Betwixt and Between

By Blaklite

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Chapter One: Just Visiting

Matthew always felt disoriented after crossing over, despite the fact that he really should have been used to it by now. How often did he make this trip? Three, four times a month now, on average? People would have said he was getting better, that he was starting to move on. Matthew, on the other hand, thought he was getting worse. He used to do this two or three times a week. Was he starting to lose purpose? Hope? Well, yes, and yes, but he had lost both long before any of this.

The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was that there was very little to notice. The ceiling he was looking at was grey, as were the walls, the sink, the shelves, everything. Everything was a variant shade of grey. There was no temperature, or rather it was so normal it was unnoticeable. No draft wormed its way into the room, as there was no weather in the place he was in to create any. It was a dull world meant to distract none of its prisoners from their (almost) eternal punishment. But, alas, he digressed.

Sitting up straight in the empty clawfoot bathtub, Matthew unwrapped his arms from their criss-crossed position on his chest to grasp either side of the tub's rim to pull himself up. Straightening the jacket of his two-piece suit, being mindful not to crush the white tulip in his left hand, Matthew stepped out of the basin and walked towards the closed door. The doorknob was made of metal and he knew that the nerves in his hand should be registering a drop in temperature to signify that the handle was cold, but he felt nothing of it except its solidity. It's all he really needed to open the door, but even that little loss of life found so abundantly on Earth was enough to drive anyone crazy in here. And surely, most souls did go insane in this place.

Pulling open the door, Matthew stepped from his Mississauga apartment into the familiar back alley in The Bronx he had seen countless times (though only once on Earth). He hated being 'outside' in this world, not only because everything was still only coloured in shades of grey, but because you could never tell if it was day or night. The grey sky was of a certain shade that could foul you into believing it was either or both, and it never changed. Nothing in this world ever changed, not even the cyclical routines of the inmates.

But this is where he had to be, because everything had changed here. His life had been twisted into an equally shitty direction by what had happened in this alley back on Earth four years ago, and what continued to happen in this alley here in Purgatory day after day. Fate was a bitch even on the best of days.

Heading deeper into the alley, Matt turned the corner to come face-to-face with the event that had sparked the fire, though the woodpile had been growing for years. He stood there and watched with his hands in his pants pockets as three shadowed, faceless figures punched and kicked his brother, pinning him to the grey brick wall. The beating couldn't possibly get much worse, there wasn't an inch on Alfred that wasn't bloody, or bruised, or broken. He was as good as dead. And yet, one of the figures pulled a knife from some concealed pocket and stabbed into his torso (thirteen times, the coroner report had said) until the front of his white shirt was stained a deep red, one of the few colours currently in this world. As Al sank to the dirty, grey floor of the alley, the three figures left, never once noticing Matthew's presence. They weren't meant to notice.

Matthew slowly walked over to sit against the wall beside Al. He waited patiently for the last remnants of his brother's pain to fade away as the wounds began to heal themselves. Not exactly the most original or exciting of murders, but painful and shitty nonetheless. He felt bad for Alfred for a moment, before he remembered that his brother deserved this.

"So, what brings you to my fine piece of paradise, brother?" Al asked without much interest, probably because he already knew the answer. Those blue eyes didn't even turn to look at him as those broken and barely functioning fingers lit a cigarette that he had taken out of his jacket pocket, one of the few things that had been in his possession when he died that night. Had he not just witnessed the replay of his brother's murder, Matthew would have assumed that Alfred and he were just having a normal chat. After dying the same death so many times, it started to become boring, annoyingly so even.

"It's been awhile since I've dropped in last. I figured I'd come see you," Matthew responded, refusing the cigarette Alfred offered him. Smoking may do nothing for Alfred now, but Matthew could still be affected back on Earth. And he had never really enjoyed it, quitting after only a month when he was in his late teens. He had had other vices to nurse…

"How long?" Alfred asked in a weary tone, as if he almost didn't want to hear the answer.

"Two weeks."

"That long, huh? Feels like it's been two millennia here…" Time did not exist anywhere but on Earth. What could have been a week in Purgatory was really only a few seconds on Earth. And since people in Purgatory only ever relived their deaths…well, it really did feel like forever here.

A moment of silence passed between the only two painted figures in their little corner of Purgatory. You can bleach the surroundings of a soul, but not the soul itself, apparently. It was hypocritical really; the supernatural could bend as many rules on Earth as it so fucking pleased, but as soon as a rule is made in a supernatural setting, it's almost unbreakable. Including the rules for messing with souls.

"How's the whole investigation going?" Al pressed on. Matthew detected curiosity, but the hope that had once been there was gone.

"Nowhere, really. No news on the name. And I haven't a fuckin' clue where Raum could be, and neither does anyone else. My sources can't even tell me if he's back in Hell or not. I'm half tempted to go the fuck down there myself and drag his ass back out."

Alfred chuckled a bit, a hollow sound, so unlike how he used to be. It still shocked Matthew sometimes how far his brother had fallen, even though he had fallen long before he even got to Purgatory. The other blond used to be so vivacious, so full of life and energy. They could have turned off the sun, and strung him up in the sky as a replacement and no one would have been any wiser, so bright had his light been. But that was when they were kids. They had both been more innocent back then.

"Matt…why don't you let me go?" Matthew looked at his brother just as the other did the same. He noticed that all the cuts and bruises were gone, for the moment at least. "Why don't you leave me to my fate? You know I deserve it, I know I deserve it. You could have a life, again, a family. You could be happy."

Matthew couldn't help but grin tightly, snort, and look away. "My life ended when I got hit by that truck thirteen years ago. My family was finished when they found your body in that alleyway four years ago. And my happiness died when I caught my wife cheating on me with that hotshot soccer player from Cameroon three years ago. I've lost everything, Al. She even took my dog." Sea met sky as the pair locked eyes. Alfred remembered how attached his brother had been to that white husky, Kuma-something. He would have traded his soul if it meant saving that dog from death. "You do deserve to go to Hell, but not yet. And not without me."

It was Alfred's turn to grin and snort. "Matt, we both know you're never going to end up where I'm going. You were always the better son."

"And you were never the bad one, Al. You know who's to blame here, and it's not you."

"Isn't it, though?" This forced Matthew to pause. Was his brother…giving up? "I mean, maybe I did all those things…on my own. Humans have free will, we can sin on our own."

Matthew's disbelieving look changed to one of determination and slight disgust. "I refuse to believe that. I'm not going to give up, Al."

"Then just leave me here, like this. I'll end up in Hell eventually, but, for sixty years at least, I can suffer here. You said it yourself, I deserve this."

"It's not about whether you deserve it or not, Al, it's about when you deserve it. You left too early. And it was unfair for all of us." Seeing movement in the corner of his eye, Matthew knew that it was time for him to leave. The figures had returned and it was time for Al to continue his punishment.

Stubbing out his cigarette in a pool of his own blood, Al spoke, resigned to his doom. "Time for another round." He didn't get up even when Matthew stood. "Take care, ya hear? Don't do anything stupid out there."

"Don't worry, bro. I'm always getting into trouble nowadays," Matthew responded, grinning back meekly to match Alfred's less-than-perfect smile. Alfred grabbed Matthew's outstretched hand so he could be pulled up off of the dull ground of Purgatory New York City. Before he turned and left down the alleyway, Matthew deposited the white tulip in Alfred's hand.

Looking down at the flower as his brother walked away, Alfred smile genuinely, even if it was still sad. "Tulips, always white tulips…" And then the beating began anew, the perfect white petals becoming stained by the puddle of blood they were regretfully dropped in.

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A Note From Blaklite: It's probably not as clear in this chapter as it will be in others, but this fanfic is heavily inspired by the movie Constantine and the comic it is (loosely) based on, Hellblazer. Just to make it especially clear, I do not hold the rights to either of these things. On another note, despite the fact that I will be borrowing concepts from these two mediums, I will also be making up my own stuff as I go along (such as the idea of Purgatory). I haven't read Hellblazer so any fans of the comic please excuse whatever faults I make, though they will sometimes be intentional in order to function in this plot.

So, continue? Scrap it? Save it for a rainy day? Please review and let me know.