Iscariot

We build it up, we tear it down, we leave our pieces on the ground.

Early afternoon and Matthew stood at the foot of the walk, staring up at James' house as he considered his options. Hesitating. He hated hesitating, hated hiding, hated how much he wanted to turn around and leave. Avoiding his brothers wasn't an option. Right now, time was precious, even more so with Mika in the Abyssal Plains. Her abductor now had a head start of days on them in the demon world, yet still, Matthew balked.

He hadn't seen Damien in over three months. They "spoke" regularly in texts or on the phone, but they hadn't met up in person for a while. Living our lives.

They'd lived together before his brother left for school. Face it, before he moved to watch Mika in Urbana. Damien couldn't take being away from her back then. For more than four years his brother held her in his heart until he realized Diana's spell had made Mika unobtainable. Only then did Damien finally leave her but he never did let her go.

I'm sorry, Matthew thought up towards the window. There was no way his brother didn't know what happened between him and Mika. I'm not sorry for being with her but I'm sorry if it hurt you.

Matthew finally understood Erik's duality, how he resented his sexuality as much as embraced it, but he couldn't hate himself. He couldn't resent living. He wouldn't regret what they'd shared, what Mika had given to him. She offered but it was my choice to take.

Guilt wasn't something Matthew was used to, either. He'd always kept himself out of situations that could lead to it. It hadn't been difficult, before.

James led the way when they finally broke free from the Abyssal Plain, he and his honor, his discipline. Matthew had admired him for it and ultimately internalized it. Honor was another word for guilt-free. If you lived with honor, behaved with honor, your choices wouldn't come back to haunt you.

Theoretically.

But real life? How did Mika put it? She was a mess? No. Real life is the mess. You could live with as much honor as possible and life would still find a way to taint you. But that was what living was all about. Getting dirty.

And coming clean.

Yet Matthew still couldn't find it in himself to approach the house.

The bedroom curtain twitched and he saw a shadow shift behind it. He stood still, forcing his mind away from everything except Mika's trail, that she had gone through a gate. He focused his thoughts on the Plains as well as on his worries of their eldest brother. Simon always saw more than he told, but he'd told Matthew enough of what James had been up to.

The front door opened and James stepped out, closing it behind him. Matthew remained silent as the Demon Lord came to join him. His brother looked rough, his wounds from the fight were healed but his eyes were sunken behind his glasses. He wasn't meeting Matthew's gaze.

Something happened. Fear for Damien rushed into Matthew, foremost in his mind. First Sam, then Erik, now Damien? He reached into his pocket, refusing to be taken off-guard. His fingers closed around the knife's handle as he summoned it, the steel cold against his skin.

"If you're going to throw it, get it over with." James stopped a few feet from him, recognizing the motion. His lips thinned, color rising on his cheeks as he waited. His hands remained down at his sides, leaving himself completely open, unarmed.

"Damien?" Matthew didn't relax an inch.

"Sleeping. He can't hear us, for now," James finally met his eyes with haggard sorrow. "We spoke." They'd actually talked for hours until Damien finally dropped, only a mere hour before. "I know I've made mistakes. I've wronged you, Matthew. Whether or not you believe me, I am sorry. You may speak your mind as well if you wish."