Telephone
AN: this was written for the_other_sandy on LJ who requested this prompt:
Matt Williams flees to Asia where he winds up working as an accountant in Wo Fat's organization without knowing who Wo Fat is to Five-0. Up to you what happens next. Maybe Matt overhears a contract being put out on the members of Five-0, maybe Wo Fat finds out about Matt and tries to use him against Danny. I just want Matt to have to choose between the path he's on now and his brother.
As it goes without saying, I'm having a prompt party on LJ. If you'd like to find out more info, just go to my LJ under the name of trulyslytherin and click on the prompt post.
What in the flying fuck was he going to do?
Closing the door behind him, it took Matthew Williams several tried with shaking hands before he could slide the deadbolt across. He forced himself to walk across the back of the sofa to the small bar, where he retrieved a small glass and a bottle of scotch before plonking down onto the sofa. He really badly needed that drink, because it had all gone so horribly wrong.
He didn't want it to be true. Perhaps for the first time in years, he had felt clean when he started working here in Hong Kong. He had felt that this was his new start, but things had come full circle. Again.
His employer had been none other than a Mr Wo Fat, a man who owned several of the nightclubs in Hong Kong who just so happened to be the same Wo Fat who had killed Pat Jameson and tried to blame her death on Steve, Danny's Steve. Sure, he went under a different alias but when Matt met his employer for the first time, he did a double take. He was the same man that was listed as wanted by Interpol at the request of Five-0. While his hair might have been longer and the nerd glasses obstructed most of his eyes, the general description matched.
The scotch burned on its way down, licking his insides with warmth and soon the first glass was finished. He poured himself another fat three fingers and rather than savouring the taste of the alcohol, he downed it in one go, shuddering. He wasn't drinking to enjoy, he was drinking to try and forget the whole situation, avoid facing the harsh reality that things could go very wrong horribly fast.
What was he going to do? If Matt went public about this there was the very real chance that his life expectancy was going to plummet close to zero. He wasn't born yesterday, Wo Fat was notorious for the power he wielded with the Yakuza and the Triads, and if he were to let Danny know that he was in danger, that there was contract being tendered for his permanent silence…
A small voice reminded him that perhaps the reason why he was getting drunk was that he wanted to avoid having to make the decision. He often made bad ones, ones which had caused loved ones great pain and had caused him to move to Hawaii to escape the shame, before the heat started again. He didn't want to choose, he didn't want to play the role of God in this context.
He didn't want to be responsible for another murder, another burden on his soul.
The thought left such a bitter taste on his tongue that he hadn't realised that the glass was empty. Frustrated, he growled as he lifted the bottle to his lips and started tugging at the amber liquid. The edges of the world were starting to get a little fuzzy, and he was starting to calm down. He could breathe again.
He sat there for a long time, rolling the bottle between his sweaty palms, oddly soothed by the sight of the amber alcohol sloshing back and forth behind the glass, much the same way that the tide pulled into the ocean, caressing the shore, the same way as they had done since the beginning of time in Hawaii.
He sighed, there was no choice about it. Matt had to let Danny know. It was Danny, for fuck's sake – his own little brother. He had been a total asshole for most of their childhood and adulthood and his descent from moral ambiguity to downright psychopath would be complete. He didn't think his conscience could bear it.
Mentally resigning him to his potential fate, he picked up the phone and pulled it across to him, lifting the handset to his ear. He hesitantly began to dial Danny's number. Perhaps if he ran before they discovered what he had done-
A loud crash shocked him onto his feet, but by then the alcohol had slowed his reflexes and his head was woozy. The bottle rolled out of his hand onto the floor, spilling out its contents onto the carpet.
The phone dropped from his hand and rolled onto the ground as the door split open to reveal two men dressed in black. Wood splintered everywhere as they stepped inside before the larger one went to grab him. He put up a struggle, managing to scratch his assailant across the right cheek before a wad of material was shoved into his mouth and duct-tape was wrapped around his mouth, around his head as his hands were cuffed together. Fear coiled inside him and he was going to be sick as they frogmarched him out of the apartment, the cool press of the gun a reminder of just where the power rested.
In the meanwhile, the silence of the phone continued to be heard in the room, until a series of continuous beeps started and the line died.
All comments are appreciated, thank you.