Ignorance is Bliss || Matthew, Gil

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 473

Tags: Matthew Williams

Notes: Hope this is okay!

There were a lot of things Alfred F. Jones made it his job to do.

Sometimes it was being a government employee. Sometimes it was cleaning bathroom stalls. Sometimes it was being the new tech guy at a company, sometimes it was nothing at all.

All of those things, of course, fell under Alfred's most important job of all. Screw the government.

That manifested itself in the Freedom Fighters. They were the closest thing that Alfred had to family. All of them, united under a single cause, a single belief.

In the end, that was Alfred's job, Alfred's duty. The Freedom Fighters were his everything.

That had not always been the case, of course, but now that was all Alfred cared about. They were the ultimate objective and Alfred had no intention of letting anything get in the way of that. Till death do us part.

There were also, of course, smaller jobs for Alfred to do, and right now this was one of them.

Groceries.

Not exactly the champion of causes to be out and about, but reason nonetheless.

Alfred had some burger patties in the fridge, but he was out of eggs and milk and a few other essentials. He should be looking into getting some more kibble too. Alfred needed another hard drive as well, some other tech stuff to help the FF.

He mused over that for a moment. It'd be best to keep a low profile for a while. Alfred really would prefer to remain under the radar as much as he could and he'd come very near unable to do that. There were other matters he had to attend to though, which would require pulling a number of strings to accomplish. And after everything that had happened recently...

Alfred needed a break.

He ran every day now with My, until they were both tuckered out and flopped on the ground until Alfred eventually got up and went to go shower. And while that was nice and all, Alfred kind of wanted to just be out of the apartment. He'd used this trip as an excuse, not bringing My because he needed to carry things back to the house.

It was nice just walking around Archadia, and since Alfred had no intention of walking around with groceries, he was just wandering. Wandering leisurely and enjoying himself. Perhaps he'd go get a coffee, perhaps he'd go wander into some random shop, perhaps, perhaps. Perhaps he'd people watch or gather some intel. That was fairly low key, right?

Alfred walked slowly, perusing little side shops and taking in everything around him. His gaze wandered away from the little Russian dolls and to the people on the streets. Archadia was an interesting city after all. There was sure to be someone interesting about, someone who looked like they had a story.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Matthew Williams]

if i only could

make a deal with God

Funny… Matthew Williams had never been all that fond of crowds. Even before he was identified, he was all too happy to sneak away to some secluded spot, sheltered under the protective arms of a tree with nothing by the soft lullaby of a the leaves rustling in the breeze. And yet… after so long in the dark, after spending so much of his time alone, standing in the sun, surrounded by a sea of humanity, actually felt nice. Matthew closed his eyes and leaned his head back, feeling the sun soak into his skin. He drank it in, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. When had he last been on assignment? He knew it was still freezing, the snow had piled in great mounds lining the streets, looming over the pedestrians like an invading army. But now, the sun was out and the air was warm, and Matthew was lucky enough to be released just in time to enjoy it all—the sun and the warmth and the people. There was just one problem.

Humans were all so rotten. Matthew opened his eyes and they stung against against the sudden onslaught of light. Around him, were so many voices, they slid past him as though he was little more than a stone in their river. Dates, and chores, and arguments, and laughter… he doesn’t understand it. How can they all be so… so normal? He’d seen their faces at the arenas? Seen them contort into something that didn’t even resemble humans. He felt the bile rise in his throat as he caught sight of a few familiar faces from the Underground, just a step behind of their rotten masters. Everyone seemed so… sedated, numbed to fearful reality that formed the foundation of their town. This was enlightenment? This was the bright future Matthew had dreamed about as a kid?

Matthew could hear it ramping up, could tell by the way his heart shuddered in his chest that he wasn’t going to get off lightly. Briefly he realizes he shouldn’t have been thinking so much—nothing good ever comes from him thinking any more. The voices, comfortingly vague just a few moments ago, began to rise and build and rise until they weren’t voices anymore. Matthew covered one of his ears with his hand, willing the noise to subside, to slink back to whatever darkness it had risen from. Not now, he begged, not today! He wanted to pretend just for a few more minutes, pretend that he was still Matthew… Matthew, not EI1423. His ears were filled with the buzzing, the infernal ringing that sapped away any rage thought and replaced it with rage.

Rotten rotten rotten, all so rotten! He wanted to show them all just how rotten they were. They all believed they were so clean and perfect, all neatly packaged in suits and skirts, and lace. Matthew wanted nothing more than to show them the truth, to peel away their perfectly composed surface and expose the corruption within. His fingers twitched, aching for some panacea, the warmth of blood flowing over his skin calming the whirlwind in his head. He bit his lip, trying hard to calm down—if he killed anyone other than his contract, they’d likely through him back in the research lab and he’d never see sunlight again…

A familiar face caught Matthew’s eye. He looked up, hardly daring to believe his luck. It was him, it was him, it was him, it was him! His contract! His fingers drummed anxiously against his leg and he took a deep breath. He had to stay calm, he couldn’t let his eagerness set off his target. The last thing his employers wanted was to draw attention to this man. A brief smile curled his lips as he fell in step behind his newest pray.

It was a good day.

word count: 647

tags: Alfred F. Jones

notes: so it begins

by worldie on iof

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 622

Tags: Matthew

Notes: ...I should study

Alfred had his hands in his pockets as he walked. Just walking, like an ordinary citizen in an ordinary town.

He really should be working, should be...should be... Certainly there had to be repercussions for some of his recent actions... But they had not come yet, and until they did, there wasn't much Alfred could do to prevent that.There were other things he had to plan... Alfred tried to shove those thoughts away. He didn't want to work. He should, he should...but he didn't. He wanted a break from reality. He wanted to wander these streets like an ordinary citizen in an ordinary town.

Alfred observed people as they walked by. It was almost a training exercise, since Alfred's job (if you could call it that), required him to be able to relate to people, to be able to fool them. That counted as working, right? Alfred liked to make up stories about people, to wonder how they got there and why. It was distracting, thinking about other people's lives. Sometimes he used those backstories for himself. Playing someone else was easier than just being himself sometimes.

For some reason, Alfred's eyes zeroed in on a blonde man. He had shaggy hair that fell to the middle of his neck. It didn't look like it'd been cut recently or properly. He was of average height for a man, a few inches shorter than Alfred probably.

There was a tugging sensation in him of familiarity, though Alfred wasn't quite sure why. The man was quite average. Ordinary, dressed in ordinary clothes. There was a ragged edge to him...perhaps something had gone wrong in his life recently, but there wasn't anything else to him that would make him stand out. His skin was pale, but most people in Russia were.

The man covered one of his ears with his hand briefly, an odd gesture. Perhaps he was taking a call...though the man really didn't strike Alfred as a businessman. And then he was lowering his hand... No, not a call then. Though what, Alfred could hardly imagine. Something in his ear?

There was that odd feeling of deja vu again, as if he should know something about this man. Alfred had never seen him before in his life though, it was certainly impossible...

Matthew...

Back several years ago when Alfred had first arrived in Archadia, he had been convinced that every other person he saw on the street was his brother. That was what was happening here again. A twinge of guilt surged through Alfred. He wanted to believe that man was Matthew...but Matthew couldn't be just walking the streets. That's what Alfred had figured out when he'd gotten here. Mutants were locked up, kept well away from the public unless out on contract. And certainly, this man did not have an owner nearby.

Perhaps that's why Alfred was drawn to this man. The thought that he could be Matthew...but that was nonsense. Matthew was probably dead. Alfred had never seen him when he was looking at Weeds of Tomorrow, had never seen him the few times he'd snuck into the Underground. Alfred had stopped looking as of late. Matthew was gone.

He noticed that the man had started drumming his fingers on his leg. Anxious? For what? Or perhaps thinking...thinking of the day ahead, perhaps. Perhaps he was going to meet someone. He wasn't running yet, which meant he wasn't late, but there was certainly a purpose in his step.

Subconsciously, Alfred followed the man. It wasn't intentional, no. But he was there and interesting enough and reminded Alfred of Matthew for one reason or another and it wasn't like Alfred had anywhere to be.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Matthew Williams]

When the city goes silent

the ringing in my ears

gets violent

       

There was something so… visceral about hunting down the next target. The urging in his head left little room for emotions like fear, guilt, or empathy. Forward, it ordered. He is rotten, he is dangerous.

He must be destroyed.

In another life time, Matthew would have wanted to know why? What had he done to deserve death? His information told Matthew that he was a bureaucrat, once in charge of managing the Underground finances. But in regards to the actual crime, the damning charges, the information stayed silent. Not that it mattered. Matthew had seen the truth, saw it in his flayed skin, in the glassy eyes of his dead cellmates. He’d seen what human kind, for all of its bright and shining promises and appearances, really amounted to. Blood, madness, and despair: that was the true legacy of mankind. The truth was, it didn’t matter what his crimes were; he was guilty. He was guilty in the same way that they all were guilty. The only difference was that he was fair game according to the folder that had found its way into Matthew’s cell. And Matthew wasn’t about to question it.

The man wove his way through side streets, further and further away from the throngs. Matthew couldn’t help but smile, even in a sizable town like Archadia, swarming with the masses of humanity, there were still plenty of intimate nooks to operate in. Lots of places where he could indulge in secret, where no one would hear the screams, the pleas for mercy. He always found their pleas amusing; as if Matthew could actually grant them a reprieve! Matthew was no judge… no…. Matthew was the executioner. And those about to die should not waste time begging for mercy from the one who holds the noose.

The man turned the corner, pulling out his phone and Matthew knew his time had come. He couldn’t let him make any calls, send texts, or do anything that would ruin the narrative. This was supposed to be a suicide after all. Looking up quickly, Matthew scanned the nearby buildings and felt a thrill of excitement—one appeared to be a least 10 stories; plenty high enough to simulate a reasonable fall with enough force to obliterate any evidence of prior trauma. This was it! Heart pumping adrenaline through his veins, Matthew slid his hand into his hoodie’s kangaroo pocket, his fingers caressing the soft leather holster hidden inside with the intimacy of a lover. Everything went quiet in that moment—even his madness deferred to the thrill of the hunt. With what seemed like a single smooth motion, Matthew unsheathed his weapon—a seven inch serrated blades—just as his foot pushed off the pavement, propelling him into an all out charge.

His prey never stood a chance. He never even realized he was being followed until Matthew’s blade slid in between his 4th and 5th thoracic vertebrae, splitting his spinal column. The man let out a strangled noise like air being forced out of a balloon and fell to the ground. To Matthew’s surprise, the man’s arms went to work, using his rapidly depleting oxygen supply to drag his failing body towards the building. The blonde strode over and turned him over, watching his death throes with satisfaction. The man’s dimming eyes caught sight of the tattooed numbers peeking just over the collar of Matthew’s hoodie and Matthew could tell he knew enough to know their significance—this wasn’t his first time before an Experimental Inmate. He wondered how many mutants died due to the whims of his man? Had he been down to the labs to take in the full horror of them? Or had he stayed in his office, pretending to know nothing, interested only in the results churned out by the demons he employed. Demons in white coats. Matthew’s hand shook, clenching the blade with white knuckles, the buzzing growing louder and louder until the blonde was sure his head would explode from it. There was not enough air left in the man’s lungs, but his lips still formed the silent word.

Monster

With a snarl that barely sounded human, Matthew jumped the man, driving the knife directly into his putrid heart. He wretched the knife out and plunged it in and wrenched it out once more only to plunge it in again. With a relieved sigh, he leaned back to brush the bangs, thinking back to the man’s last damnation. Monster, eh? Now that Matthew stopped to think, the name actually had a good ring to it. The blood flowed freely, warming Matthew like nothing else could, more soothing than any balm, silencing the roar that only he could hear. The moment was a euphoria, a joyous escape from his life as the plaything, the powerless prisoner. In this moment, it was Matthew in control. Matthew could do whatever he wished. And so Matthew continued to cut, and cut, and cut, freeing more lifeblood from its fetid vessel.

And in that moment, he was happy.

word count: 840

tags: Alfred F. Jones

notes: *cries I'm so sorry... this one's pretty dark

by worldie on iof

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 757

Tags: Matthew Williams

Notes:

Alfred followed the Matthew lookalike for a while.

There was so much about the man that reminded Alfred of Matthew. It was the same shade of hair, wasn't it? And Matthew's hair had always been longer than Alfred's...but it was just false hope and illusions. Alfred knew that, he knew. But he still followed. Still chased that wisp of a hope, of a dream.

His brother...what Alfred would do to have his brother back. They had gotten so little time together, so little time to simply be brothers. And that was Alfred's fault. Alfred's fault, for separating them, for pushing both of them apart. Until the end. The end...he had been okay in the end, right? He had...he had changed, right? Or at least that's what Alfred liked to believe. What he'd like to believe...and what he didn't believe. The two of them against the world...but the world had been too much. Matthew had been caught and Alfred had run...run...like a coward...

He didn't need this. He didn't need to think of this. Alfred shook his head a little. It was pointless, useless hoping for his brother to come back. Because Matthew was gone. If not dead, then gone. He hadn't been in the Underground, hadn't been anywhere, ever...

Alfred shook his head again, trying to physically erase the thoughts from his head.

He should probably go. Should probably leave this lookalike alone should probably...

Where did he go?

Alfred looked around him. He had just been following this man a few seconds ago. There was no way he had simply disappeared or that Alfred had lost track of him. He couldn't have gone far...

There was something odd about it, something suspicious, something... And Alfred could not crush the small hope inside of him that this man was Matthew, that he was trying to hide, trying to escape...

Curiosity compelled him to pick up his pace, curiosity and reasons he could not explain. There was a small alley to the side and—aha, there! Alfred saw someone dart down another path. Alfred rounded the corner and walked quickly.

It wasn't Matthew, it wasn't Matthew. It couldn't be Matthew, of course not. Alfred knew that, knew it...but every inch of him said no. No. Matthew was not dead, Matthew was alive, alive and in front of him...

The man turned through another corner. Then another.

Alfred was chasing a dream, an illusion. A hallucination of his brother even. He knew that, he knew that...

Alfred broke into a run.

He had to be sure. He had to. He couldn't let the possibility slip through his fingers.

Alfred knew his way around the streets of Archadia well, probably too well. His blood reaced through his ears, his shoes pounded against the pavement and Alfred spun around the last corner in a frenzy...

His steps skidded to a halt as the scene in front of him came into view.

Red. Alfred saw red.

Red on the ground, red on a knife...it all flashed before him in an instance. A man lying on the ground, a man that Alfred hadn't even noticed before, but that wasn't what Alfred's focus was on. No, he was focused on the man on top of him, the man straddling him. He was focused on the glint of the blade, the way the silvery surface reflected the meager sunlight that had made its way into Russia somehow. He was focused on the blood, the red, dark and deep and oozing. It was spilling out, spilling out from the man underneath into a shallow, deep red pool.

And the man on top, Matthew's lookalike, paused for a second. Just a second. And Alfred saw a bloody hand, that pale skin covered in warm, wet blood and he swore he could see the man smile and Alfred could feel his stomach turn. Then the knife was being lowered once again and Alfred didn't need to see what the man was doing...

Alfred was frozen, his feet frozen to the ground. A thousand voices screamed inside his head, but he heard nothing. Just the pounding of blood rushing through his ears. Just the sight of the blood on the ground.

He should have run. It was a murder, this man was a murderer. He should have run. But he couldn't. Alfred could not will his feet to move. He did not know if he even had a will to move.

Instead, he spoke in a horrified whisper.

"Matthew?"

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Matthew Williams]

if i only could

make a deal with God

He wouldn’t have heard it ordinarily. He rarely heard much other than the persistent ringing, the voices that filled his mind, leaving little room for the outside world. But now, now that the blood oozing through his fingers soothed the torrents of noise inside him, his senses could run amok—the horrified whisper might as well been a shout to Matthew’s hypersensitive hearing.

And yet, for a brief moment, Matthew didn’t believe it. After all, Al had been an all too common visitor in his mind, a constant presence over the years It seemed far more likely that it was just a leftover… a piece of madness that refused to be placated. And yet, as Matthew turned towards the source of that whisper, he saw the foreign and yet all too familiar silhouette standing in the alleyway. There was no doubt in Matthew’s mind—none of his hallucinations had ever been visual. It had to be real.

The blade fell to the ground like a guillotine, the blade clattering profanely against the pavement. Gone was the killer, the hitman, gone was EI1423. The man that rose to meet him was just a boy, lost and confused and afraid. In that moment, he was 15 again, reaching out for his brother, his protector, his sanity.

“Al….” the name felt foreign on his tongue, though it had never strayed far from his thoughts. It was funny in a way, Alfred’s voice had been a near constant in his life, ever since his dark stint in the Underground’s laboratories, and yet he’d never stopped to consider what had actually become of his brother. Perhaps it was easier not to acknowledge any other reality other than the one in which he resided. And yet, there he was, strong as Matthew always imagined him. It was a miracle! His brother, his older brother was actually there, was physically standing in front of him. He had found him! Matthew got to his feet in a daze. Even the thrill of his latest kill paled in comparison to this feeling, the euphoria that was coursing through his veins. His brother was there, looking just as how Matthew imagined he’d look, handsome and dashing and… terrified?

Matthew faltered to a stop, his head tilting, trying to wrap itself around the very idea. Al was scared? But that was impossible. Nothing scared his brother! What could he possibly be afraid of? Matthew looked back towards the carnage he’d just wrought. Certain that the target was most assuredly dead—and therefore no longer a threat, he turned back to Alfred, concern shining plainly on his face. Why was his brother so frightened? There was nothing there that could harm either of them. Perhaps he was still in shock? That Matthew could understand, he could barely believe it either. After nearly 5 years of wishing, of longing, his brother was there, was really there. Matthew took a step forward again, all thoughts focused on touching him, on reassuring himself that his brother was actually a part of this reality.

“Al. I… you’re here… you’re here…. You’re really here, aren’t you?” His fingers reached out for the other blonde. He didn’t notice the blood that still stained his porcelain skin, all of his focus was tied into the man before him. For the first time in years, Matthew couldn’t believe his luck. He had his brother back. Now everything would be better, he would put Matthew back together again, he would silence the voices. Al would have the answers, Al always had the answers. And now that he was here, he’d put everything right.

word count: 602

tags: Alfred F. Jones

notes: Poor insane Mattie...

by worldie on iof

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 590

Tags: Matthew Williams

Notes: Sorry Matt

Alfred stared.

It was like someone had doused Alfred in cold water. Shivers ran just under his skin, the shock rippling through Alfred as he tried to fully process the scene that lay in front of him. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice was telling him to run, to leave before anything else happened. Yet Alfred could not will himself to move. The world seemed silent, the only sound was the noise of his blood pulsing through his veins.

And then the man turned. Turned and stood to his feet, and Alfred saw a flash of violet. Violet eyes that Alfred had known as far back as he could remember, violet eyes that had permeated his childhood. And Alfred knew then, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Matthew.

Alfred's stomach twisted sickeningly as his brother rose to his feet. There had been many times when Alfred had dreamt of his reunion with his brother. He had imagined every possible scenario, every word that he would say, that Matthew would say. There were possibilities where Matthew screamed, where Matthew yelled, where Matthew coldly turned Alfred away. There were even times where Matthew forgave him, though Alfred could never let himself dwell on those for too long.

In his mind, Alfred had preserved his brother as the boy he had once known. The kind, softspoken, loving brother. The golden child of the family. Even in his imagination, his brother could not have changed that much. He could hate Alfred, and for good reason. There were times Alfred had imagined Matthew as bitter and cynical, times where Matthew spoke to Alfred with an iciness that left Alfred awake at night, left him filled with a dread and guilt that seeped into every waking moment.

Yet even then, he was still very much his brother, still Matthew in essence.

Never before had Alfred imagined Matthew as a killer.

"Al..."

The voice sounded both foreign and familiar to Alfred's ears, like a strange bout of deja vu. The sound of his nickname, the one he so despised now because of everything it brought to mind. Every mistake Alfred had ever made, every regret Alfred had ever had. It was an echo of a previous lifetime, one that Alfred wished desperately to forget.

Matthew walked towards him as if in a trance. Alfred's mouth felt dry. His brother. His brother, standing right in front of him. Everything in the past five years had been for Matthew. Every con Alfred had ever pulled, every risk he had ever taken...all for Matthew. Matthew was Alfred's dream, Alfred's goal, Alfred's endgame. Everything began and ended with Matthew.

Yet Alfred could not help but let his gaze drift towards the body on the ground, the blood pooling into the cracks in the cement.

Alfred could hear the words that Matthew was speaking, but none of them made it through the pounding in his ears.

Matthew reached out to touch Alfred, as if he could not believe Alfred was actually real. His brother's eyes shone with joy, with disbelief, with...

Out of the corner of his eye, Alfred saw Matthew's hand, covered with red.

Alfred jerked away instinctively, taking a step back as his eyes widened. Suddenly it was like he had woken from a dream, as if he had stepped out of quicksand and could move again.

Dread swept through Alfred. It pooled in his stomach, he could taste it in his mouth. Dread and fear and...

Alfred found his voice again.

"Matthew...what the hell?"

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Matthew Williams]

if i only could

make a deal with God

There was a long silence. They stood apart, no more than five feet between them, and yet it might as well have been a canyon. Matthew squinted, trying to rework Al’s words into something he could understand. He had dreamed of their reunion, back when he was still capable of dreams, of sleep. Al would greet him with that infectious smile of his, pull him into a hug that threatened to crush the air from Matthew’s lungs, and Matthew would feel safe for the first time in five years. He had relived that dream, clinging to it, even as the rest of his reality crumbled away. He imagined the warmth of Al’s eyes, lightened to a clear sky-blue by the elation, the way his voice would wash over Matthew—far more comforting than anything his mind could conjure up because it would be real. He had rehashed the planned reunion over and over and over again, and never once, did he imagine it going any other way.

He certainly hadn’t imagined this.

Al was afraid of him. Actually afraid of his own brother. Matthew frowned, searching Al’s face for some semblance of the brother he’d so carefully constructed in his mind. But there was no joy, no relief in those wide azure eyes, just terror and shock. Briefly, Matthew wondered if this was the expression the scientists saw as they came to collect him for the next round of tests. They still looked so similar, sure Al might stand an inch or so taller, and maybe there was a little less meat on Matthew’s frame, but that pale skin, that unruly blonde hair, even the bruise-colored rings under their eyes matched. It was only the red that was different. Matthew stared at his stained fingers for a moment, brow furrowed as though he might find the answer to Al’s question in the patterns splashed across his porcelain skin. Finally, he lowered his hand and looked back to Al, expression blank.

“I don’t… understand… Why are you looking at me like that? I’d never hurt you. You’re not rotten. Not like him.” He didn’t spare the corpse a look as he gestured vaguely behind him. He didn’t care about the body, or the person it had been just moments before. His brother was in front of him and that mattered far more than his latest disposal. “He was evil, Al. He was nothing but decay. But you don’t have to be afraid anymore! I took care of him for you! Now you don’t have to worry about anything!” He raised his arms, euphoria seeping into his expression once more. His brother was just confused. He didn’t see the rot in the man the same way Matthew did. Matthew just had to explain himself and everything would be right again! His eyes gleamed madly, the amethyst of his irises made all the more brilliant with the tinted light cast by the setting sun. Al would understand.

Al would understand….

word count: 497

tags: Alfred F. Jones

notes: 

by worldie on iof

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 618

Tags: Matthew Williams

Notes: I'm really sorry for the font color I will deal with that soon

He regretted it immediately.

It was such a small action, but it was such a telling one too. Alfred could read people. He did it all the time on cons. Every person had tells, little twitches that hinted at their true thoughts.

Alfred wanted to take it back. At least, certainly part of him did. Part of him wanted to cry out that he'd made a mistake, that yes, Matthew was really here, that this was what he wanted, what he had been working for.

But there was always that part that could not overlook the corpse right behind Matthew, the fact that his brother, his innocent, wholesome, perfect brother was the one who had been stabbing him.

Over and over and over and...

Alfred couldn't...

Matthew didn't understand. Alfred could tell. The way his brow furrowed, like he was trying to solve another science problem. The way he frowned ever so slightly, as if confused. And the way his eyes did not reflect any of what Alfred hoped to see in him.

This couldn't be Matthew. This couldn't. This was...was some joke. Some dream. Some nightmare. Some other way the world was trying to screw Alfred over. This was some doppelganger of his twin, some twisted version of his brother that they were using to...to something. There just...this couldn't be...

Alfred knew Matthew. Alfred knew Matthew better than he knew himself in many ways. At least, that's what Alfred believed. He knew his brother's smile and his brother's laugh, those faintly violet eyes, that curl of hair that never stuck in place that always matched Alfred's cowlick. But more than that, Alfred knew Matthew's heart. His kindness, his inability to harm even the smallest animal, his gentleness...

Yet...he was right here...

Alfred swallowed.

Matthew spoke again. Didn't understand, didn't understand... Alfred didn't understand either. Didn't understand who this stranger was, who his brother was...because this was his brother. It was Matthew, Alfred could not deny the man in front of him. How had this happened? How had he changed? What had they done with his brother?

Alfred numbly listened to Matthew speak. Rotten, evil, decay...those weren't words that Matthew used. Alfred wouldn't have been surprised if he had romanticized his brother over the years, but this...this wasn't the boy he'd grown up with, the twin he'd cared for, the brother he'd chased after.

Matthew's eyes lit up, raising his arms as if he was an actor presenting his latest piece.

Alfred felt sick.

This was just...this was just wrong.

He grabbed Matthew's arm, yanking it down from where Matthew had lifted it, as if somehow that would resolve the entire situation. Snap back into reality, Alfred begged. Come back to me. Matthew was real, so very real. Alfred could feel the warmth radiating from him. Real.

"You killed him," Alfred repeated, horrified. The words tasted dirty on his tongue. Kill. Matthew couldn't... "You killed that man, Matthew, he..." Alfred let go of Matthew, pushing past his brother as he stumbled towards the man, nearly falling over as he reached for a pulse. Anything, anything to deny the reality that was quickly becoming clear to him.

Nothing. Not a single heartbeat.

Alfred dropped the man's hand and backed away as if it was diseased. Alfred's stomach turned. He hadn't been paying attention when trying to find that man's pulse. Now his hand, like Matthew's was covered with red, the man's warm and drying blood on his fingertips...

And then there was Matthew. Matthew, who was just standing there, as if this was somehow normal, as if this was just another day to him.

Alfred was at a loss for words.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Matthew Williams]

if i only could

make a deal with God

It just didn’t make sense. Matthew stood to the side, watching dispassionately as his brother fretted over a cast off piece of fetid meat, the only remains of a putrid life. He just didn’t understand. Why waste their reunion on that garbage? With a sigh, he pulled out a cloth, lovingly wiping down his knife, polishing away the red staining the silvered surface. He didn’t look up at Al, couldn’t hide the irritated furrow of his brow as Al continued to blather on about the fact that he’d killed someone. As if that was something unusual! Didn’t Al know how this world worked? Mutants killed mutants, humans killed mutants, humans killed humans, mutants killed humans… it was the only constant that had held true in Matt’s life. How could Al not know this rule? Was he really so blind.

“Yes, Al, I killed him.” He said flatly, stepping over to rest his hand on the man’s forehead, his eyes glowing faintly as the man began to rise, lifting up and up and up like a leaf caught in an updraft. Matt got to his feet, his hand raised up towards the man’s body. “He was a monster. He knew what this was,” his free hand gestured to the tattoo over his collarbone. “He knew there were mutants being experimented on, being broken. He may have had a direct role, he may have only known, it doesn’t matter.” He grabbed Al’s arm, pulling him away from the site. “Remember what Dad used to say? ‘Allowing bad things to happen is as bad as committing those acts yourself.’ He allowed bad things, Al. Horrible things. I’m just… righting some wrongs.”

His fingers clenched into a fist and fell to his side, even as his other one held onto Al like a vice. The man’s body went into a dive, spiraling to the earth like a missile. Matthew watched silently, his eyes tracking the progress. He smiled faintly as the body met the unforgiving pavement, the muted pleasure shining profanely in his gaze. Finally, he turned to Al, eying him thoughtfully for a long time before finally releasing him, tugging off his stained sweatshirt and wrapping it into a tight bundle. “It doesn't make sense... I was sure Al would understand,” he murmured almost sadly, clearly not talking to the man before him anymore. “’I was sure he’d…” He paused for a moment; clearly listening to something only he could hear. Finally a bright smile blossomed on his expression.

“Ohhhh, of course!” He nodded eagerly, tucking his sweatshirt under his arm and shoving his hands into his pockets. He paused again, still nodding in an almost absent fashion. “Oh, you’re so smart!” He exclaimed, a mad sort of euphoria claiming him, erasing the fear, the confusion, the heartache of Al's rejection. He didn’t spare Al another look as he turned to leave. The man behind him wasn’t real, didn’t fit into Matt’s reality, therefore he wasn’t a part of it. Because Al was still with him, whispering reassuring comforts, just like always. He’d been such a fool, Matthew decided, letting some fake deceive him. Al was with him, just as he always had been.

Content once more, Matthew retreated into his mind, into the only reality that still made sense.

word count: 533

tags: Alfred F. Jones

notes: Man, Al... I'm so sorry...

by worldie on iof

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 702

Tags: Matthew Williams

Notes: I gave in and wrote it lol.

There it was again, that distinct urge to vomit. Alfred tried hastily to wipe off the blood on his hands, scrambling to his feet and backing away from the man's body.

Matthew walked over and Alfred watched, words failing him as his brother lifted the man upwards simply with his touch.

Alfred remembered the first time he'd seen Matthew use his powers. It was a memory he'd never forget, not in ten years, not in a hundred. Yet he'd never imagined...never imagined Matthew would use it to kill someone. That ability...well it was true that that had been possible, Alfred had just never thought...not Matthew. Matthew was too sweet, too kind, too...

God, what had they done to him in there?

Alfred's gaze fell on Matthew's collarbone. A tattoo, a constant reminder that he was owned. Briefly, the scene flashed through Alfred's mind. Masked strangers, holding down his brother, hurting him. Anger boiled beneath Alfred's fear and confusion. They'd broken him, changed him, claimed him as their own...

Suddenly Matthew was tugging on Alfred's arm, pulling him away from the body with surprising strength. Or perhaps it was because Alfred was letting himself be dragged away. He felt like he was moving in slow motion, like he was just waking up, except this was the real nightmare.

Allowing bad things to happen is as bad as committing those acts yourself. Alfred remembered that line. Allowing bad things to happen...like this? Because Matthew had done this. No amount of denying could ever resolve that in Alfred's mind. He had killed a man, ruthlessly, and perhaps there was a reason but...

Why in the world was Matthew out here? How had he not been caught? If he was simply around, how had Alfred never known? How had he never seen his brother—his twin—walking down the street? How did Matthew know this man? How, how, how...the questions never ended.

I'm just...righting some wrongs.

This was wrong, this was wrong, this was all so wrong. This wasn't real, right? This was just some...some nightmare. He was just asleep, he could wake up from this...

Matthew's fingernails dug into Alfred's skin painfully.

This was no nightmare.

The man's body plummeted to the ground and Alfred flinched visibly, looking away. He didn't want to see the body, didn't want to see any of this.

Wake up, wake up.

Matthew's grip on his arm loosened.

This was worse than any nightmare. And god, Alfred had had his share of those. Over the past few months...there was scarcely a night that Alfred wasn't jolted awake. He always hesitated when opening the door, wary of whoever might be just behind it. It'd been getting better, slowly, carefully. The nightmares only happened every few days now. But he'd never imagined...

“It doesn't make sense...I was sure Al would understand. I was sure he'd...”

Alfred stared at Matthew. His brother had a far off look in his eyes. Who was he even talking to?

Alfred opened his mouth, his voice cracking a little. “Matt...I'm right--”

His brother ignored him, smiling brightly at something else. Someone else? “Ohhhh, of course! Oh, you're so smart!”

There was that mad glint in Matthew's eyes again, and this one scared Alfred more. Scared Alfred more than when he'd been stabbing that man, scared Alfred more than when the body had hit the ground with a sickening crunch.

Matthew turned from him and began walking away. Alfred's eyes widened.

No. Not after this long. Not after this long, his brother was not about to walk away from him. Alfred barely knew who he was, didn't even recognize the man in front of him...but he was Matthew all the same. And there was no way in hell Alfred was letting his brother just walk away. Not now.

“Matthew!” Alfred ran to catch up with him. “Matthew, look at me, don't you dare walk away, I'm right here.” Alfred grabbed his brother's arm. “Snap out of it!”

He had to. He had to. Matthew couldn't just disappear. His brother had to be in there. They couldn't have taken even that from him. Alfred couldn't let that happen.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Matthew Williams]

if i only could

make a deal with God

Matthew was miles away, mind already blurring the edges of this newest memory, convincing him that it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. Not the stranger with his brother’s face, not the rejection, not the disgust he saw in those cerulean eyes. It wasn’t real. His brother wouldn’t do that to him, wouldn’t reject him. Al had been there, had been the constant, the sole voice that kept the others at bay. It was Al’s voice that Mattie listened to, just as he always did. And if his Al said that the man before him was a trick, an illusion, a lie, then that’s what he was. Mattie didn’t think to investigate further. It wasn’t real.

But then there was the hand gripping his wrist and there! Suddenly Matthew felt a fresh round of confusion set in. Because those fingers, latched around his wrist like a vice, felt solid and real and it felt like Al! Even after all these years, Mattie could still recognize that touch. It was the same hand that had clumsily tugged Matthew along for some new misadventure, the same hand that he clung to when the rest of the world grew too scary and his classmates seemed more intimidating than any adversary in Mattie’s books. It was the hand that Matthew felt slip from his grasp as the drugs ransacked his system and the men in black suits converged like vultures, intent to tear him away from everything he’d ever known. Matthew could never forget that touch. But… but it couldn’t be. It didn’t make sense, because his Al was there, just like always. He was whispering in Matthew’s ear that this was a trick and yet Al was also there… gripping his arm and demanding (begging even!) that Matthew focus. Focus on him. And Matthew wanted to, he just didn’t know which Al to focus on. Which was the trick? Because they couldn’t both be real.

Matthew shook his head, trying to rid it of the horrendous throbbing. His tremulous grasp on his reality was slipping, the euphoria from his latest kill a distant memory. And without it, the roaring in his blood was back, building and building and building to a terrifying crescendo. And it was directed towards a single target. With a feral snarl, the knife was back in his hand and he spun, slashing blindly at the hand. The intruder. The threat to his carefully constructed reality.

“Don’t touch me,” he breathed, backing away from the other man, knife still held at the ready, his violet eyes flashing madly in the dim alley. “You… you aren’t him. You can’t be! My brother… my brother loves me. He doesn’t look at me like that… like… like… I’m… like I’m a rabid dog! He loves me.” And Matthew had to believe that, couldn’t accept that he’d fought so hard, endured so much, for someone who could look at him with such fear. The possibility that he had worked so hard to get back to a brother that didn’t want him in the end, was painful. Devastating. The thought brought tears to Matthew’s eyes and he rubbed at them furiously with his free hand, the knife still poised to attack. “My brother isn’t afraid of me. He isn’t afraid of anything.”

The voice in his head seemed to gain strength from Matthew’s words. And Matthew felt his chest swell at the praise he received from his Al. This was right. That was the brother he trusted, the one had kept him company through the darkest nights, through the tortuous injections, through the endless poking and prodding and cutting. Not this frail creature standing before him.

“You’re not my brother.” He said icily, finally straightening and sheathing his knife once more. He looked at the fake Al, the intruder who had come so close to toppling his world, and his lips thinned into a severe line. “ You won’t trick me. Touch me again and I’ll kill you.”

And he meant every word.

word count: 667

tags: Alfred F. Jones

notes: 

by worldie on iof

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 725

Tags: Matthew Williams

Notes: Alfred's last ditch attempt

Back in high school, Emily Jackson broke up with Alfred during lunch break. When Alfred asked for an explanation, she told him this: “You're always the one who leaves. It would have happened anyways.”

Alfred had never really understood what exactly Emily meant when she said that. In fact, Alfred distinctively remembered angrily saying that that wasn't even a reason. He was pretty sure that Emily had flipped him off for it. He'd dismissed the memory from his mind, and it had quickly been replaced with much more pressing memories less than a year later.

Now that Alfred thought about it though, maybe what she said held some truth. Alfred hated being left behind. That much he knew. It was much easier to be the one leaving, to be going somewhere instead of staying in the same place. Perhaps Alfred subconsciously always decided to leave first to avoid being left behind.

Standing here with Matthew—Matthew—right in front of him, Alfred held onto Matthew like he was his lifeline. Alfred didn't want to be left behind, not by Matthew. So maybe he wasn't the brother that Alfred had left. So maybe...maybe he was the exact opposite of the Matthew he had known. So what? He was Matthew, still, he had to be, Alfred had waited for this day for five years, had been without family, without anyone really. So this wasn't the perfect reunion Alfred had imagined every day for five years, so what? This was what he got, and life was fucking unfair, but this was what he got and he would take it, because this was Matthew and that had to mean something, it had to, it had to.

Alfred didn't see Matthew move until the blade was slicing through his skin. Alfred yelped and swore, letting go of his brother as his hand burst into pain. “Fuck...” Alfred clutched his hand, feeling the warm, sticky blood stream down his arm.

It hurt, it hurt... Alfred couldn't tell how deep the cut was. With luck, it would only be a superficial cut but...fuck. Matthew had actually attacked him. Alfred didn't...Alfred hadn't believed he would. Even if Matthew had changed, even if Matthew was someone completely different, he...

A drop of blood fell on Alfred's shoe, the red mixing with the dirt.

It took Alfred a long time to regain his voice, too long. As for Matthew...he was standing over there, knife still in his hand. He looked insane, the way Alfred always imagined villains in movies to be. Except this was his brother.

Too far gone. Alfred felt sick as the thought occurred to him, could taste the bile in his throat. Not his brother. Not his brother. Matthew wasn't...he couldn't be. He couldn't, Matthew was all Alfred had left, he couldn't...

“Touch me again and I'll kill you.”

Alfred felt numb and cold, like somehow had doused him with a bucket of water.

“Touch me again and I'll kill you.”

Alfred stared at Matthew, stared at the way those hostile violet eyes glinted, the complete lack of empathy or trust. Alfred had come so far, had searched for so long for this? For his brother to...

He wouldn't. He couldn't. Everything, all of this, that was for Matthew. Everything about Alfred's life revolved around his brother, there was nothing more important, nothing else made sense if Matthew wasn't Matthew.

“Mattie...” The nickname felt foreign on his tongue. This man was not Mattie. This man was someone else entirely. “It's me. It is, You don't believe me but it's me, Alfred, please. You have to be able to...you have to be able to see that.”

Alfred was begging, he knew, but Matthew had to believe. If there was any ounce of Matthew in there, if there was any molecule of his brother in there, he had to. “I do love you, Mattie, it's me, please. I'm right here, we can work this out, I'm your brother. You know that. You know that.”

He stepped towards Matthew. “Mattie” —this time the nickname was easier, Alfred could almost believe— “Come home with me. It's me, Alfred. You're not gonna hurt me. We can be a family again. Please.” Alfred swallowed. “This isn't you, Mattie, please...”

He had to believe Matthew was in there somewhere. He had to. If he didn't...Alfred wasn't sure what he'd do.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Matthew Williams]

if i only could

make a deal with God

There was blood. Matthew watched it ooze from the torn skin, snaking in thick rivulets, drawn down by gravity. For a minute, it was all Matthew could see, could understand. The blood was a comfort, a constant that he could rely on. Blood never changed. But it was also one more confounder.

Can illusions bleed? Matthew frowned, his head tilting slightly, his mind spinning under the possibility. Because if he had hurt the man in front of him, did that mean that he wasn’t another trick? Could that possibly mean… Al was really here? Al was in front of him, was here. His brain hurt at the possibility, because his Al was telling him that it was a trick, that it couldn’t be… but he looked at the man before him, cradling his bleeding hand. And suddenly it didn’t matter what the voices whispered in his ear. That was his brother.

“A-Al?” He took a step back, his violet eyes wide behind his glasses, finally raising his eyes to meet Alfred’s gaze. He didn’t understand. How could that be his brother? How could someone so fragile, so fearful… so… human… how could he possibly be the savior that Matthew had prayed for? He wanted to run, wanted to pretend this whole confusing meeting had never happened. What was he supposed to do with this brother? What good was this?

But he didn’t run. Because if it was Al, then maybe it didn’t matter. He didn’t believe that he could be saved, not anymore. Maybe all he needed from this stranger was something to remind him that he had once been a functional person. He’d dreamt once, he had looked to the future with hope once. A career… a little house with a few kids and a beautiful wife to welcome him home with a smile… a place to belong…. A place where he mattered. Maybe all he wanted from Al was a reminder that he had mattered once.

But if that was Al… then that blood… that was Al’s blood too, right? One couldn’t exist without the other. Matthew’s hand shook as he stepped closer reaching out to take Al’s injured hand in his own. It could have been deeper, the cut, but still… It was going to scar. Matthew had been injured enough to know what cuts tend to linger. He had hurt Al, had hurt his brother. And he was always going to carry that with him forever. He stared at the blood, at the injury he’d caused, the harm that had befallen his brother at his hand.

“Al… I did this? I… I hurt you…” He felt sick. “I’m… I hurt you…” He felt so ashamed. His brother, the only person he had left in his corner and Matthew hurt him. He didn’t deserve Alfred, didn’t deserve anything his brother had to offer. He looked down at the hand, another mistake, another regret. He really was a weapon. He only brought harm. He couldn’t stay with Al. He was going to hurt him more. He was going to bring nothing but harm to Al. And Al… Al wanted Matthew to come with him? Why? So he could hurt him more? Matthew stepped back, shaking his head.

“I can’t… Al… I can’t go with you… I can’t… I-I… don’t follow me, please Al. Don’t follow me. I’ll hurt you. I’ll kill you.” He stepped back again, still shaking. “I can’t. I can’t. I’m going to… I can’t.”

And so he ran. He’d gotten good at running. It was the only thing he could do. Run. It was safe. It was better this way. Al wouldn’t understand. But then again, he’d still be alive.

He’d still be alive.

Matthew couldn’t accept the alternative.

word count: 624

tags: Alfred F. Jones

notes: Well... you got to him

by worldie on iof

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 804

Tags: Matthew Williams

Notes: Guess this is the end of the line.

His brother back.

That was all Alfred wanted. That had always been what Alfred wanted. Nothing else mattered in Alfred's life. Everything could wait, wait until his brother was safe and sound and Alfred had finally redeemed himself.

But now...

Alfred stood there, holding his bleeding hand and for the first time, he thought that this might be it. The end of the line. All everything Alfred had ever worked for...gone. Meaningless. In a few short minutes, his world had shattered and this time, Alfred didn't know how to pick up the pieces.

Matthew was all Alfred had. All that kept him going, that single, desperate wish. Except...now...

Matthew looked up at him with those familiar violet eyes. Alfred swallowed as they stared at each other. His brother. His twin. Those violet eyes had defined Alfred's life. Everything had been shaped around Matthew. Ever since they were kids, it had always been the two of them. Even when Alfred had tried to deny it, even when Alfred and Matthew had drifted apart, it had always been the two of them. They were brothers after all.

Matthew looked...almost...confused. As if he didn't understand Alfred's words. Alfred wanted nothing more than to reach out to his brother, to pull him into a hug, say it was alright, he was here. But then...would Matthew...

He thought of the corpse lying on the ground behind him, the blood running down his hand.

This wasn't supposed to end like this.

Then Matthew spoke.

It was like the fog had lifted from his eyes, as if he was actually seeing Alfred for the first time. And then all of Alfred's thoughts seemed to vanish, as if they'd never existed. It was as if time had reversed upon itself. Alfred could forgive, could forgive anything and everything for Matthew. Hope blossomed in his chest like a flower in the spring. He could have his brother back, he could. Matthew stepped closer, taking Alfred's hand in his own, eyes running over the cut he had made. Alfred didn't care. They could be a family. They always had been, but this time it would last. It would last. That's what Alfred had promised Matthew all those years ago, right? They were family forever. After their mother had died, after Alfred had followed his father on the path towards destruction, after he'd realized all his mistakes...Alfred had promised Matthew that they would be family.

Alfred barely heard Matthew's words, his disbelief that he had hurt Alfred washing over his head. Brushed away, forgotten. All Alfred could see was his brother again, in front of him. Forever, this time, Alfred was sure, it would be forever.

And then Matthew stepped backwards, Alfred's hand dropping back to his side. Alfred blinked in confusion as Matthew's shoulders shook.

"I can't."

For a moment, Alfred didn't understand what Matthew was saying. He couldn't what? They could do anything together, they were brothers. Yet as Matthew spoke, the more he shook, as if his words were slowly breaking him apart.

Then it dawned on Alfred. Matthew was going to leave.

"No..." Alfred began. "Matt—"

Alfred reached out to grab onto his brother, but Matthew was already running. No. No, this wasn't happening. He wasn't losing his brother, not after all this, no, no he couldn't, he couldn't, Matthew couldn't leave, not now...

Alfred started after the man but his foot lost traction against the ground and Alfred felt himself slipping. He caught himself, barely, but by then Matthew was out of sight.

No. No. No. Alfred refused...this couldn't be happening. Alfred sprinted in the direction that Matthew had gone in, twisting through the alleyways, desperately turning left and right on a whim. He knew these backstreets, had spent his share of time in them, and it was only this knowledge that kept Alfred from being lost. Yet...perhaps he still was lost. He had no idea where he was going, his mind steering him towards wherever it thought right. He...

"Matthew!" Alfred shouted. "Matthew! Matt—"

He arrived onto an actual street, his shout dying in his throat. The cars, the people on the sidewalk, they all seemed to be an illusion and for a second, Alfred stepped back in shock. Everything that had just happened with Matthew had seemed so...detached from this world he now found himself in. His hesitation was only momentary though. Alfred looked desperately around him, searching for that familiar blonde hair, that single, specific gait. He didn't notice the blood dripping down his fingers, making small splatters on the concrete below.

Matthew was nowhere to be seen.

Gone. Matthew was gone. Alfred had missed his chance, his one opportunity. His brother had trusted him to save him and now? Now Alfred had failed Matthew again.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia