Work Text:
“Hate this 9-to-5 bullshit,” Matthew sighed to himself as he laid down his briefcase in the office. Sure, being able to teleport straight to work helped, but he’d still rather be doing literally anything else than letting his eyes glaze over as he read updates on each branch and province. He rifled through it to find something interesting to start the morning with. The Youth Criminal Justice Act was going to be read by the Senate again in two weeks time, so that might be a good place to —
“Dude, get to the commons room pronto,” One of the newer interns skirted into the door frame, a wild look in his eyes.
“I thought Heather’s party was tomorrow?” ‘I left the potholder I made at home, damn it. Whatever, I’m sure she’ll forgive me,’ he thought.
“It is; just — fuckin’ come on. Like NOW now,” Matthew shrugged and followed his coworker, and their walking turned to jogging turned to a sprint until they reached the door. Instead of the normal laughter and idle chatter Matthew was used too, it was eerily silent save for the TV:
“— That is once again a picture of one of the towers of the World Trade Center.'“
“We can see these pictures, it’s obviously uh - something devastating has happened and again — unconfirmed reports that a plane has crashed into one of the Towers there.”
The reporters kept speculating about what happened while the rest of his coworkers started speaking up. Folks from the House, Senate, the Cabinet, ministers, and all branches who were in the building started wandering in as well, trying to find others to watch the news with.
“Someone at ATC must’ve been asleep at the wheel or somethin’; that system’s been outdated for ages,” someone said.
“Yes, but this would’ve required both pilots to also be too out of it to notice they were flying straight into a skyscraper of all things,”
“If it was a plane in the first place. They just said it was ‘unconfirmed reports’, not that a plane definitely did it,”
“Still a terrible accident. We’ll draft something about well wishes to their fire department or something similar,”
‘Al’s probably there already,’ Matthew mused as he listened to his colleagues. ‘Hell, if someone hit the CN Tower, I’d be over in a heartbeat too. Though turning invisible doesn’t help as much as super strength…’ He stayed to chat with the others; with this big of an event happening no one wanted to get any work done. The intricate patterning on the wall behind the TV started to shift and morph in front of Matthew’s eyes, meaning it was time to look away to give his past-overdosed brain a break. The carpet underneath wasn’t as bad, but the window in his office would’ve been —
“HOLY SHIT — “
"Oh another one just hit! Something else just hit — a very large plane just flew directly over my head,”
“We just saw a plane circling the building a second ago on the shot before that,”
On the screen, another explosion rocked the second tower, and the screen filled with more smoke and ash.
Too many things would have to go wrong for this to happen…
Which meant this was intentional.
“Everyone back to your posts now! Emergency session — spread the word!” a Cabinet member said.
“But what if the US Embassy is attacked next!”
“Who gives a shit — what if we’re attacked next! Or what if whoever is controlling the planes is on some of ours too!”
“Shut up and go!”
Matthew didn’t wait for any more discussion and ran for the hall. When he got to the main chambers, the Prime Minister was already there, and Matthew stopped himself seconds away from crashing into him.
“Get to Yukon and get any and all planes around there grounded — US intel says they’ve potentially been hijacked. Nav and Transport have already activated emergency measures. Connect with NORAD once you’re there,” he said as other officials started streaming in, “Go, now!”
Canada nodded and felt another tug as his core as he teleported to the opposite end of his lands. He grabbed his uniform and changed, the room filling with others doing the same. While he loved flying, this was not an ideal circumstance to do it in. After a very quick briefing, they were off to the races and the roar of jet engines filled the skies.
It was late evening by the time Matthew got back to his house, a little cabin in a little town in the middle of nowhere. He felt drained from the stress of the day, especially the false alarm hijacking of Korean Air 85. His landline blinked with messages, and it took every ounce of strength to press play.
"One message from Boss: Didn’t catch you at the Hill again, but thanks for your help today. We got everything grounded, but some towns are overwhelmed. If you could swing by and help out places like Gander, that’d be great. Send my well wishes to your brother,” Matthew sighed and double checked he had enough coffee to last the next few days, because teleporting his entire truck to Newfoundland was going to be exhausting on top of everything else.
“One message from Ivan: Hello. It is 2100 here, and I haven’t seen Fedya yet. I will let you know when he’s safe. The rubble looks like he might be holding something up underneath it, or at least I hope. It is hard to breathe. Goodbye,” Matthew froze at that. He wished that he could go down and help, but his own people were already in a tight spot according to his Boss.
As long as his brother was eventually okay, he’d be fine.
When Matthew woke up on the 13th, he still felt like molasses replaced his bones from the past two days. He bounced around the provinces helping where he could, mostly translation, and eventually settled on moving supplies around in Gander, Newfoundland. He left his truck down there, the drive too long and his magic too tired to bring it back to his isolated cabin.
As he stumbled across the wooden floors to the kitchen, he noticed the landline had another message for him. With coffee brewing, he clicked to hear it;
“One message from Ivan: Hello. Your brother is safe now, but is out of it. He’s still in a daze due to what happened, but I’m sure he’ll talk to you soon. We should cancel our hockey match tomorrow since we will both be busy. Let me know about next week instead! I will kick your ass. Goodbye,”
…Well at least Ivan confirmed that Alfred was physically safe. After the craziness had calmed down his brother would probably pop by to say thank you or something, or attend the match and cheer both of them on. Either way, not a problem for right now. He needed to check in with his government on the current situation and head back east to help a town that gained 50% of it’s population in a day.
He was in the middle of translating some Mandarin in a Gander school gymnasium for a couple when another helper came running to him out of breath.
“Phone…someone important…looked everywhere for you,” They huffed out, “Principal’s office,”
Matthew nodded and said a quick goodbye to the couple before making his way to see who could be calling him. The principal was holding it still, idly chatting with whoever was on the other end.
“Oh, he’s here now,” she dropped the conversation and gave the phone over before leaving and shutting the door. Once he was confident she was out of earshot, he put it to his ear.
“Canada speaking,”
“Hey, your brother’s at the embassy and he’s acting weird,” one of his diplomats said.
“…He’s always — “
“Weirder than usual; you should probably come over here,” The call ended with a click and he set it down. ‘He’s already here?’ Matthew thought, ‘I would’ve thought he’d go to Ivan to recover after…whatever actually happened. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought?’ With a vision of the front of his American embassy in mind, Matthew feel a woosh and a bit dizzy before opening his eyes to the concrete structure.
The roads surrounding it were empty still, blocked off a click or two downstream as a result of the attacks. He pushed his way inside, and right in the foyer was his brother, pacing and wringing his hands. His shoulders were hunched up, and as Matthew drew closer he could hear him muttering “Shut up,” over and over under his breath.
“Uh…hey Al,” Matthew started. Alfred jolted to a stop, like he didn’t hear him walking up despite the hard tile underneath his boots.
“Oh shit — um. Hey Matt,” He stopped pacing, but his hands stayed in motion, twisting in on themselves like the fractals that tainted both of their visions.
“You alright? Y’know, from everything?”
“Yeah! Yeah, I’m…I just swung by to see what you were up to. Need to do somethin’ with my hands; you get it,” ‘No, not really,’ Matt thought, ‘It’s easier for me to rot in bed but whatever,’
“Do they need help with the clean up or something? I’m sure they’d appreciate — “
“ — Nope. Not…not doin’ that. Tried. Couldn’t. So, anything else? I can like build a new bridge or something. Or shovel out snow from some town or anything like that,” Matthew took a moment to really look at Alfred. His eyes were darting around the empty foyer, scanning the doorways for an invisible threat. He pushed and pulled at the skin of his hands, the gloves creaking as they tightened.
Maybe being around people wasn’t the best idea right now. Luckily, Matthew got a call an hour or so ago for the perfect task.
“I appreciate this, really,” Bonnie said, hands on her hips as she watched the Nations load up Matthew’s old truck with dog food, cat food, litter, and a lot of fruit that had been dropped off at the SPCA, “Don’t know if I’ll be able to get much rest with everything that happened, but I’ll try. And tell the keepers there that we have some folks coming in from the mainland to help with the bonobos,”
“Don’t worry about it; you’ve done a wonderful job so far. We’ll see if we can convince the zoo keepers to get some shut-eye,” Matthew replied. Alfred was already in the passenger seat, having not said anything the entire time they were loading it up. Once they were driving away from the animal shelter and toward Gander International Airport did Matthew try to poke and see what was going on.
“I know it’s not the most exciting, and there’s a lot of downtime, but it’s something,” He said, stealing a few glances at his brother.
“No, it’s good,” Alfred sighed, “Just made me think of all the pets whose owners won’t return home now,”
“That’ll do it. But um…at least we’re going to see some happy ones that have alive owners? I know seeing Kuma always cheers me up at least a bit,”
Matthew flashed his credentials at the entrance, and after a quick confirmation call to the Hill they were let in. They drove past the 38 passenger planes that had landed, the airport eerily devoid of sound beyond the seagulls, to Hangar 1. He backed up the truck to a small door on the side before putting it in park and knocking on the door. There was a faint “Come on in!” from inside, and the two ran in as fast as possible to prevent their special guests from escaping.
Meows, barks, and two bonobos imitating the barks sprang to accompany them, a rush of sound after the quiet tarmac. The bonobo keepers waved a tired hello and walked over, shaking their hands.
“I’m assuming you’re the delivery men? We can probably set up next to the door here to do it quick given someone distracts our furry friends or helps us wrangle them back into the kennels. We wanted them to run around for a bit,” One of the keepers said.
“I think your buddy has the ‘distraction’ part covered. With the other volunteers here, we should be all set,” the other said. Matthew turned to see dogs swarming his brother, who finally had a smile to break up the dreary morning. Despite recent events, it would’ve been hard for anyone to stay upset in a dog pile. They motioned over for a few volunteers and they all made for the truck to unload it, with one keeper staying behind with Alfred to distract/play with the animals.
“That reminds me; there’s a small team driving over to help you two out so you can get some rest. It’ll hopefully only be a few more days, but you still need some sleep,” Matthew said. The keeper that was with him brightened up and he saw a hidden tension leave her shoulders.
“Thank god, because there’s only so many espressos I can drink before it just doesn’t have an effect anymore,” she laughed. With the extra hands, the truck was emptied all in one go. And sure, there were probably other places they could head too, but it wouldn’t hurt to stick around for a little bit. Alfred was happily chatting with the other keeper in Dutch while playing fetch with half of the dogs, while the other (Beth, as Matthew soon learned), stayed by Matthew.
“Those fruits you dropped off will be perfect; I’m glad we didn’t just get a bunch of salads,” she said.
“I'm sure you did, but they were just redirected before it got here,”
“I’m glad everyone’s been so helpful, though. Sounds like at least some of the Canadian stereotypes are correct,”
“It’s to make up for the fact that we see the Geneva Conventions as Geneva suggestions during wars,” Matthew replied. ‘Bad joke, stupid joke, why the fuck — ‘
“Don’t know much about Canadian history, but I’ll take your word for it…” she trailed off, her gaze lingering on the volunteers setting up the supplies, “God, what happened was just fucking awful. I mean, planes get hijacked all the time, but it never ended like this. What changed?”
“I’m sure we’ll find out eventually. Uh…” Matthew racked his brain for somewhere else to take the conversation, “What got you into zookeeping?” They chatted until everything was in place (and a bit longer after), until they could stall no more and had to leave.
“So…what were you doing before this?” Alfred asked once they were back at the truck.
“Oh, just helping out at the high school. I was translating mostly and setting up kitchens for folks with stricter diets. I was thinking of going back there to help, but we can also swing by the community center to see what else there is to do,”
“Cooking’s good — keeps me moving,” He relaxed into his seat and watched the landscape go by, “The dogs were cute. I’d get one but I work too much,”
“I’m just glad Kuma is independent enough to come and go as he needs. He usually finds me while I’m camping and only hangs around during winter,”
“You still camp?”
“Sometimes it feels safer in a tent or up in a tree than my bedroom,”
“…Fair enough. It was fun when we did it, though,” They drove in silence the rest of the ride, and in the corner of his eye Matthew saw Alfred closing his eyes.
Naturally, as he let out his first snore, they parked at the school.
“C’mon, you can sleep later. We got people to help. Or you can nap in there,” Matthew said. Alfred dragged his eyes open and rubbed them with the heel of his hands.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard ya,” he replied as he pulled himself out of the truck. As soon as they opened the doors, though, every ounce of calm was snapped away. America clutched at his heart, no doubt feeling some of the emotions from the sheer number of his citizens in the gym. Some were set up at chairs and tables chatting, others were swaddled in sleeping bags, but the vast majority were hovered around one of the many TVs that had been set up around the place. Just as he had been that fateful morning, they were mesmerized by the destruction and smoke the way Matthew had been when he first saw it.
He moved forward, intending to head straight to the cafeteria, but noticed his brother wasn't following.
“Alfred, come on,” he tried, 'Don't make me deal with a panic attack or something in front of everyone, please,’ he thought. People were starting to look at the pair and his skin was already crawling. Matthew pulled gently at the jacket, but he didn’t budge.
“America,” he whispered “Let’s — “
“No,”
“We can either go in and help your people eat some warm meals, or I can drop you off early at your embassy. Which do you want?” Matthew replied, “It’ll be mostly Canadians in the kitchens if that helps,”
“I just forgot how loud it was being near my people right now. But…” the hand on his shirt loosened and he forced himself upright, “Okay. Straight there,” Without letting go of the jacket, Matthew charged forward and desperately ignored the eyes burning into his back.
The kitchens were already buzzing with activity to feed hundreds of guests who probably didn’t want school cafeteria food after spending a full day on a plane. Separate kitchen areas were set up for those with stricter restrictions due to dietary or religious needs, and other delivery volunteers ran to and from the ice hockey rink that had been turned into the world’s largest walk in freezer.
Alfred’s eyes, like everyone else, gravitated to the TV — enough that his hand kept slipping while helping out in the kitchen. Out of the corner of Matthew’s vision he saw the Nation slowly move from sous chef to dishwasher over the hours and through the dinner rush, and even then he occasionally heard the shatter of porcelain. By the fourth plate, Matthew dropped what he was doing and scavenged some to-go meals for the both of them before telling the head chef that they’d be heading out.
He tried stomping on the tile when approaching, hoping it wouldn’t result in a fifth dish being broken, and was relieved when Alfred actually turned around.
“We’ve done enough for today, they said we could head out now. Want me to drop you off at the embassy? Or you could probably grab a spare sleeping bag and hang with your people here,” Matthew asked.
Alfred dried his hands with a towel, but it morphed into pulling at the fibers as his gaze darted between the TV, the busy kitchen, and the people that were stranded at the edge of his lands. Words were trapped in his throat by the way he was trying to avoid Matthew’s eyes and kept almost choking on air with the force of stopping himself from talking.
“Just spit it out, fuckin’ aye Alfred. I’m you’re brother; I’m not going to bite your head off about whatever you’re thinking,”
“Fine, Christ — can I stay with you?” he started, “I can’t — I don’t want to go back yet. Everyone’s so loud, they’re all screaming at me to hurt people; hurt my own people who I know did nothing wrong but part of me still wants to rip and tear through a place halfway across the planet in the hope of maybe finding the — I don’t have the god damn words to describe the people who actually did this. And I know you hate people sleeping near you and that you probably think I’ll think your depression home is smelly and sucks but I don’t care; literally anything would be better than going back when I just maybe started to calm to a simmer and I hate how I am when I’m angry and —” He grabbed Alfred’s jacket sleeve, dragging him out of the kitchen and into the coming night. Despite the low light level, Matthew could still see his brother shaking, just a bit.
“Okay first; fuck you about my depression house. We both know Ivan is the one that actually makes sure your place isn’t a pigsty, and if it wasn’t for him visiting yours would be just as bad,” Matthew snapped.
“I clean; I swear! And seriously, it’s — “
“Second, it’s been enough time since the 60s that I can stand having you sleep over. Not…next to each other like we used to but maybe a couch-bed situation. Just cool it or something. Good?”
“Yeah…yeah we’re good,” Before Alfred could open his mouth again, Matthew grabbed him and teleported both back to his cabin. He threw the containers of food on the table and went to put away his coat and boots, stepping over other piles of coats and boots in the process.
“By the way!” he called back to the kitchen, “The food is from what everyone else was eating, so unless we hear about mass hallucinations in an hour or two, it’s safe to eat!”
“No need to be so obvious about it, I was fine until you mentioned it!” Matthew felt his shoulders relax as Alfred tore apart his kitchen looking for silverware. He finally found it by the time he got back into the kitchen, but when he sat down to eat Alfred paused his fork right above the food. He took deep, hopefully-calming breathes, staring down the plate like it had poison mushrooms on it. Which, to be fair, was probably equivalent to what he was thinking about.
“Karma’s gonna get you; watch us visit a hospital or something tomorrow,” Alfred huffed.
“Don’t put that into the universe,” he groaned before chowing down. A minute or too later Alfred finally joined him. It was hardy, home-cooked food; a perfect meal for the day they just had. He was thankful it was in take out containers instead of having to add more dishes to the growing ecosystem in his sink.
“Can I bum a decent set of blankets and pajamas off of ya if I tackle Mount Dirty Plate?” Alfred asked.
“Depends — are you going to break them?” It came out in a mocking tone, but it was a genuine question.
“I’m…I think I’ll be alright. If I break one, I’ll stop and steal another from IKEA or something. Being away from the TV and stuff helped,” With a nod, Matthew walked to a distant closet in his house where he kept his spares. Alfred hadn’t stayed over in…years, decades probably.
They built a good habit of going camping together once both their people made National Parks, that was nice. But when the 60s hit and they had their respective experience in government mind control experiments, everything just went…downhill from there. Psychic driving drove him into the ground and it took a good while to reach some semblance of being a Nation again. The camping gear they used was old and dusty, outdated compared to modern technology. He gave the blankets a bit of a shake, groaning when he noticed the complex patterning on them that was already moving before his eyes.
Matthew’s next stop was his bedroom to grab extra pajamas. It was only September, so it was still fairly warm at night compared to the biting cold in the coming weeks. He pushed aside the trash that piled up and made for the closet, pulling out a few sets of pajama pants and shirts that weren’t too musty to be used. He and Alfred weren't the same compared to when they were young, so they would have to be rolled up quite a bit.
Once he got back to the kitchen, Alfred had managed to make a sizeable dent in the Sink Situation. He set the bed ware down with a soft thump, enough to get Alfred to turn off the water and walk over.
“Jeez, did you get the ugliest ones on purpose?” Alfred laughed, keeping his eyes from staying focused on the intricate patterning for too long.
“Don’t knock the 50s style! They were all the rage last time we used them,”
“Have they been washed since the 50s?”
“I shook them out,”
“…Y’know what, good enough. ‘Ppriciate it, bro,”
“You remember where the washroom is, knock if you need anything,” Matthew said before turning back into his own room.
Lock the door, check under the pillow, check the corners, check the door again. Everything was still in its place in case —
It’s just Alfred. It’s just his brother.
After washing up, getting dressed, and checking a few more times, Matthew finally fell into a light sleep.
Even through the locked door, the strong scent of coffee brought Matthew out of dreamland just a few minutes before the alarm.
‘Why the hell does it smell like that?’ He thought, ‘Did I leave a new candle or something burning? Was a pot left out? Oh wait, Alfred’s here…MY SYRUPS,’ Matthew sprung out of bed and raced for the kitchen, hoping the damage wasn’t too great.
“You have a whole Starbucks worth of fancy coffee shit here; all I have is creamer and sugar, what the hell,” Alfred said, already sipping from a cup. There were noticeable bags under his eyes, hence the smell from the strongest brew Matthew owned.
“How much did you take?”
“Enough. I also made food and, yes, there’s enough for both of us before you ask,”
“Oh uh…thanks,” Matthew prepared his own drink (a wonderful concoction of vanilla, pecan, and maple syrup. The good stuff, not whatever Alfred calls maple syrup.) and sat down while they dug in to the sandwiches he made.
“Any idea of what they’ll have us do, or is it just dependent on what they need then and there?” Alfred asked.
“Then and there. 6,500 or so more people means that a lot of stuff keeps randomly cropping up. We’ll pick up the truck at the gym and then head to community center. They’ll divide up everyone from there,”
Alfred convinced him to make an extra cup to bring on the road despite the Tim Hortons around every corner. While driving the truck from the school to the center, Alfred seemed…calmer than yesterday. Matthew made a mental note to guide him away from TVs if possible, and maybe (just maybe) they be able to help the whole day without incident.
The community center was already milling with people by the time they arrived, but the main coordinator that day still brightened up when he saw them.
“Matthew, you said, right? Did you pick up a friend yesterday?” he said.
“This is my brother; he swung by to help. Where do you want us?” Matthew replied.
“You’re a little late, so the only major thing I have on my list is picking up some pharmacy supplies that people dropped off at the hospital instead. Good intentions, but it’s a lot easier for the pharmacy to distribute it,”
Ah.
Fuck.
“Of course! Anything to help!” Alfred said, because he’s an asshole. It took everything in him to not slap him, but most of that effort went to staying visible and not disappearing. With a stiff nod, the pair turned away and walked out to the truck.
“OW! Really? That — “ Alfred rubbed his arm in pain where Matthew punched him once they got there.
“You fucker. You spoke this into existence and now I have to…” Matthew trailed off and ran his hands through his hair. He can’t go into the hospital; they’re not going to trap him again or trick him or anything.
“I’ll drive and get everything, you can just chill,” he shrugged.
“I hate how you drive so I’ll do it. Don’t you also hate hospitals too? We’re going to be in the same position, dumbass,”
“Okay, I hate doctors, but we’re not going to get treated or “treated". And you heard them, that was the last job and I still really want to move and do shit,”
“Whatever. Get in,” Matthew grabbed a sip of his coffee once he was in, but ended up spilling a bit with how his hands was already shaking.
“You sure you’re good?” Alfred asked.
“Fine. Shut up and buckle up,”
As they drove, Matthew didn’t know if it was the result of the strong coffee or the big ugly ball of trauma on full display that made his heart start to race. He was willingly driving to a place that only offered suffering. His innate mental map of his land unfortunately let him take his mind off the road and wander into memories. There was faint radio chatter from — nope that was Alfred.
“…Still doin’ okay? “ he started. ‘Fucking UGHHHH ALFRED,’
“If you’re so worried I can just teleport us and the truck over there,” Matthew offered, and regretted it immediately after. Bringing just both of them would be draining; bringing the truck too would make him pass out and start bleeding everywhere. Which meant being pulled into the hospital once people saw. And then he’d be asleep in the hospital and they’d pin him down enough that he couldn’t escape and his hair would stand on end from the electricity in the air —
“Nope. I’m not getting splattered across five different states,” Alfred said.
“Provinces. Not states,”
“Eh, same thing,”
“No, you have states because — never mind I’m not giving you a history lesson on your own shit,”
“Alright, alright. Point still stands though. If you think you’re good enough to drive then I’ll trust ya,”
‘Just in and out. It’ll be quick,’ Matthew thought. Not even since Alfred said he’d bring everything out. So he can just sit in the truck and stay quiet and invisible and they’ll think no one is there that they can use to try and make “better” by any way possible. Or he’ll have to go in if Alfred takes too long because they grabbed him again and want to get a two-for-one special deal on immortal test subjects. Fuck, he didn’t even bring a weapon with him or anything. His rifle was in the closet and his knife was in the bedside table still because he didn’t expect to go to a fucking hospital of ALL the places in Gander that need help.
‘Maybe it’ll be fine?’ A small part of his brain whispered, ‘That was decades ago, and there’s two of you here. You’re better at stealth now, they won’t find you. It’s just a hospital,’
“Matt, pull over,” What? He’s fine, whoever that is should stop freaking out. He’s fine. It’s just a hospital.
A hospital that has wards.
…And wards have speakers and silence and unknown drugs and electro-shock machines and a voice repeating over and over and over and over —
“Dude, c’mon. Pull over,” It’s just a hospital. It’s not the same one.
Unless they set it up again and didn’t tell him. They didn’t tell him the first time either. What if they think he needs to toughen up for the new century? What if they put him to sleep again and —
A sharp turn jerked Matthew out of his spiral and he focused to see Alfred pulling the wheel toward him and driving them off the side of the road.
“ALFRED, FUCKING STOP IT!” Matthew yelled, slamming on the breaks as they roared into the shoulder. He put a hand over his heart after, his chest heaving. Yelling shouldn’t take that much out of him, should it? He was gasping for air as his heart pounded quickly against his hand. Looking down though, he only saw the car seat instead of his jeans.
“You were flickering, and then you just turned completely invisible and didn’t even blink at it,” Alfred said, “You’re losing your shit enough to not control it, so let me drive,”
Clearly it took too long for him to form an answer; Matthew jumped when his driver side door opened and flinched as he was picked up and put in shotgun instead. Alfred started digging around in the glove box for some reason, pulling out his insurance cards, protein bars, a handheld Tetris game, and random trash.
“Do y’ have an atlas or something? ‘Cause I don’t know how to get there on my own…ugh, never mind. I’m sure there’s signs. Here,” Alfred tossed him the handheld and Matthew scrambled to catch it.
“Just stay focused on the game, dude; I’ll handle it,”
Matt found himself…not exactly relaxing as he played, but it was easier to hold onto his sanity.
He barely noticed when they parked until the truck door slammed shut and he looked up. Ice filled his veins despite the generic and unassuming double doors.
“Be back in a bit!” Alfred jumped out and presumably ran for the doors to get in, but he couldn’t bare to look. The presence of the hospital loomed over him and Matthew ducked down in front of the seat to make himself as small as possible, the Tetris game forgotten. Stealth was his only defense right now because if they couldn’t find him then they couldn’t drag him inside. He dug his fingernails into his scalp, hoping the pain would keep him grounded in reality. If he disassociated now, he wouldn’t be able to drive out of here and he’d be trapped. Again. So just stay here. Stay here. Stay here. Stay —
Some time later that Matthew couldn’t describe if you put a gun to his head, the double doors opened with a bang. Mathew peaked his head up (after ensuring he was still invisible) and nearly fainted with relief when Alfred came out with the supplies. He lunged for the driver’s seat and started the truck, even shifting into reverse and holding it while Alfred secured everything in the back.
The Alfred that opened the driver side door was not the same that went into the hospital. His eyes took too long to focus on the (from his perspective) floating seat belt, and even after he forced himself to be visible again, Alfred still had the dead stare.
“I’m driving. Shotgun, now,” Matthew said, and Alfred blindly followed. It took an extra few seconds to snap in the seat belt, but the soft click was all he needed to floor it.
“Why’d you have to jinx us,” he sighed once they were far enough away that he could fucking think.
For the rest of their errands, Alfred remained closed off. The TVs blasting the news everywhere they went didn’t help either. As soon as they were at his house, Alfred beelined for the kitchen. He looked through all the pantry and fridge, tossing out old food Matthew forgot to throw out along the way.
“Is there something I can help with or do you just want to — “ Matthew asked.
“Trying to find something to make,” he finally said, “Or like, throw shit in a pot and then eat it,”
“Oh — here,” Matthew started pulling out some vegetables and pork that were on their last legs while Alfred foraged and found a pot to cook it in.
“Honestly, I forgot I had this,” Matthew said over the running water as he filled it.
“Why? Soup or stew or whatever we’re making is like the best depression meal,” While the…thing in the pot cooked, Alfred helped clean out the kitchen and a few other areas. He slowly came back to his usual self as his hands moved and the news was far away. And as a plus, his home started to resemble a place a functioning human/Nation would live.
“Finally gonna admit that it’s not just Ivan who keeps my house clean?” Alfred laughed, “Not saying that the threat of him popping over doesn’t scare me into doing it more often,”
“So he still helps is what I’m hearing,” Matthew replied. Their meal was close enough to being done, so he scooped some out and made for the couch, with Alfred close behind.
“Do we wanna sit here and talk about today or put on a movie?” Alfred snickered.
“Movie, obviously. What freaks would talk about their emotions?”
“Exactly. So, what d’ya got?”
They landed on Hercules, a film both of them saw before and still loved all the same. But the stress of the day, the warm food, and the comforting film quickly pulled Alfred into a deep sleep. It truly amazed him that he could just…do that. Pass out anywhere. Matthew huffed a laugh at some of the snores and kept working on his current project. One of the interns was having a baby shower in a month or two, meaning he now had to fly through crocheting a baby blanket.
Near the end of the movie, Alfred started twitching and fidgeting. Matthew carefully set the hook down and got the fragile bowl away from him. As his breath started hitching, he turned on the lights and moved away. He’d only seen one or two nightmares while they’ve been camping (and vise versa for his own), but he knew the general procedure. Lights on, back away, get him some space, talk it out. And three, two, one —
Alfred jolted awake with a gasp, his eyes glowing a faint blue.
‘That’s different,’ he thought. A Nation’s eyes glowed when they drew extra magic from their land, or at least tried to in the current situation. They might be close enough to American territory for it to almost work, so a single touch might send him flying.
“Hey Al,” Matthew said, “You’re at my house. No one else is here besides us. We were watching a movie and eating food we made ourselves. You saw and handled all of it,” Despite his words and the usual method, Alfred’s eyes kept darting around and lingered on the ceiling.
“The…ceiling? Is secure?” Matthew tried. When he noticed Alfred calm a bit, a bolt of realization struck him.
Ivan did call on Tuesday saying that he couldn’t find him for a day or so. Maybe…
“We are in a two storey building, but one of those is underground. The cabin is in a forest the middle of my lands. The walls and ceiling aren’t going to collapse,” he continued, “There’s no one to save; it’s just us. Let go,” The blue glow finally left Alfred’s eyes with a couple blinks and he slumped back against the couch,”
“Fuck,” he said, running his hands down his face, “That sucked. Thanks for the save,”
“Don’t worry about it. And I know I don’t usually ask, but your eyes started glowing, so I was wondering…” Matthew trailed off. Nightmares were a sour subject for any Nation, but he’s never seen that bad of a reaction to one before. Even on his worst nights he didn’t notice a purple glow from his own eyes.
“…Thought I was holding up a skyscraper again,” he sighed, “And healing my burns. That’s also what uh…the hospital. Yeah,”
“Yeah,”
“Welp! Time to clean up and sleep!” Alfred jumped off the couch and made for the kitchen again, “Unless you wanna clean The Pot yourself,”
“God no. Have at it,” They worked to tidy up and get the rooms back to a livable state. Yet something in Matthew burned and he knew he had to force it out.
“Do you, um…sleepover in my room?” He asked. He wouldn’t get a lick of sleep, but at least Alfred could maybe rest after the past few days of hell.
“It’s alright, dude. I know. I get it. I’m fine out here; promise,” he replied, “The gesture is cool,” The big ugly ball of bad memories in him hummed with relief and the burning feeling went away.
“If you say so. Tomorrow should be when the last planes depart, so they’ll want us to help clean up I bet. Night,”
“Night!”
After his lengthy night ritual, he fell asleep just wanting everything to go back to how it was before.
Nightmares from visiting the hospital plagued him enough that he was up earlier than usual. His hands craved motion, so breakfast sounded like a good option. He opened the door —
— And almost feel flat on his face. He looked down to see the culprit and it seemed like sometime during the night, Alfred had migrated in front of his bedroom door, blankets and pillows and all.
“Stupid idiot. ‘I’m fine,’ my ass. Ugh,” there was no heat behind the words as he reoriented himself and started for the kitchen again.
Just as it had for himself yesterday, Alfred was roused by the scent of strong coffee and wandered in wearing a blanket as a cape.
“Morning blanket caterpillar,” Matthew said, “Be blessed that you get real maple syrup this morning instead of that corn syrup abomination you call — “
“Hey! Vermont still has the good shit. And Michigan. And — “
“ — What do they all have in common? Proximity to me, that’s right,” He threw a plate in front of him stacked with a few pancakes, “Eat it and weep,”
Breakfast was a quiet affair as their mouths were preoccupied, but something was still nagging Matthew at the back of his mind.
“I’d love to stay and help more, but they’ve probably drafted something I should look over in DC,” Alfred said on the last pancake, “And hopefully I didn’t make last night like, too awkward or anything. Guess I wasn’t done freaking out with Ivan,”
“All good. Speaking of him, did you tell him where you went? Or should I just expect him to try and beat me with the hockey stick next week instead of playing with it?”
“…Uh. I’ll give him a call when I get back,”
“Thanks; those sticks aren’t cheap,”
The blanket patterns danced before his eyes again as he packed them away while Alfred got dressed. Seeing the abandoned camping equipment finally scratched the itch in his brain since the morning.
“Hey, so, um,” he interrupted as Alfred put on his shoes, “Would you want to try the camping thing again? I’ve still gone on my own and stuff but it might be fun…” Alfred’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Fuck yeah, dude! I’d totally be down for that! Maybe a month from now? We can do Yellowstone again to start out or one of the newer ones I added since we last did it. How long do we wanna — “
The two discussed plans for their next trip…
neither realizing how much the world had changed.