A/N: So here is my first Gallagher Girls fanfic! I've always been interested (and saddened) by the revelation of Matthew Morgan's death, so I thought I'd write about what he was thinking while he was being held captive by the Circle. Hope you enjoy it and reviews would be welcome.
Final Words
Every day, it was the same. They came into his 'cell', two men and two women, to interrogate him. To try to get him to tell what he knew of the CIA, and his mission. They came with guns and whips and knives, threatening him, threatening his world. But Matthew Morgan wasn't telling.
oOo
He thought a lot, of Cammie and Rachel and Joe. It was the only thing that kept him from going completely insane, cooped in a dank basement in the middle of nowhere. He thought of them to keep the despair away, the despair that came of knowing that he was going to die soon. He thought of them to keep the agonizing searing pain away when his captors interrogated him. The thought of them, safe in the US, gave him strength.
There was a lot he wanted to say to them, that he would never get the chance to say now. Like how he had come so close to defeating the Circle. He had found the key to the list, Gilly's list, and had planned to travel to Ireland to retrieve the list. But instead, the Circle had caught him. You idiot, Matt. He wanted to hit something when he thought of how he had been captured.
It had been so stupid. He had been on his way to the local supermarket, of all places, to stock up on supplies for the safe house in Athens. He had been making his way inconspicuously through the crowded street, as only a pavement artist could do, when he thought he saw her. Rachel. The woman he loved above all else. From the corner of his eye, he had seen a flash of long dark hair and familiar blue eyes, staring at him. Whispering his name. 'Matthew…' And a pang had gone through him, for he missed Rachel terribly, more than he had admitted to himself during this dangerous mission. He wanted her there, wanted to speak to her, see her, tell her the things he had never told her before. How he had been fighting against the Circle for so long, how this mission which had taken him from her was an important part of it.
He wanted her to be there, badly. He wanted that woman on the street to be her. And so he had turned, reached out to her, whispering her name as she had whispered his name. 'Rachel…' But the woman wasn't Rachel. It couldn't be Rachel. Matthew didn't know why he'd let himself believe that, other than that he'd had a sudden desperate longing for home and Rachel and Cammie. He had turned quickly away, but it had been too late. They had seen him.
And the last thing he had thought, as a searing pain surged at the back of his head and the darkness descended, was that the joke was on him. He had been tricked, trapped by his own love for Rachel and his need to be with her again. They had used it against him mercilessly, placing a female spy who looked like Rachel in the street, knowing that he would see her and hesitate long enough for them to descend upon him.
Matthew shook his head at the bitter irony of it all. Yes, the joke was most certainly on him.
He would never see his wife again.
oOo
Dear Joe,
I've been made. But you probably already know that. The Circle's got me, something neither of us thought would ever happen. We were young and cocky, believing ourselves to be the best spies that ever lived, priding ourselves on our mission to take down the Circle. Now I know better.
I've found the key to destroying the Circle. There's a list, Gilly's list. She began writing it after she opened the Gallagher Academy, after the attack on President Lincoln. She knew that if the Circle were to be taken down, you had to know the names of their leaders. So she wrote the list, and hid it in a safe in her home in Ireland. I found the key to the safe. But they caught me before I could find the list. That list the key to ridding the world of the Circle, Joe.
Joe, I need you to do something for me. Look after Cammie and Rachel, will you? When they hear about me, they'll need you. Rachel won't admit it, but they will.
And one more thing: don't give up. Destroy the Circle, for me if not for anything else. Because I'm not going to be around to see it.
Look after yourself, Joe. And don't blame yourself too much for this, because it wasn't your fault.
Cheers,
Matt.
oOo
Dear Rachel,
I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left you and I'm sorry I've just broken your heart. I was an idiot. I got made. I, the pavement artist, got made. And now I'm going to die and I'm so sorry for everything.
You should enrol Cammie in the Gallagher Academy, like we always planned. One day, she'll need that spy training. One day, some people will be after her because of me, because of what's in her head. Those people won't hesitate. They'll kill her because she's a threat to them now, because she knows something that can destroy them. Keep her safe, Rachel. Promise me that.
One last thing, Rach. When I'm gone, don't mourn me for too long. Move on with your life, because you've still got one. Find someone who will treat you right, who will treat Cammie right, because God knows Cammie's going to need a father figure in her life. I know you love me, and I love you too, but you have to promise me this one thing, for both our sakes.
I love you,
Matt.
oOo
Dear Cammie,
Remember when I took you to the circus, not long before I left? Afterwards, we went out for lunch, and a woman bumped into me, and gave me a napkin. I gave you the napkin, and told you to memorise the list of names on it. I need you to remember those names. It's imperative that you never forget. In your head you hold the key to taking down the Circle, you and no one else. I need you to remember that.
Someday, you're going to be a great spy. I'm sorry I won't be around to see it, but I know you'll be amazing. When you get to Gallagher, listen to your teachers, and don't forget a word they say. It's all going to be important for the future.
Daddy
oOo
He waited until they left, stomping up the basement steps, grumbling about his silence.
He hauled himself towards the wall, wincing as bruises, old and new, screamed their protests. He dug his fingernails into the wall, and wrote as the blood ran in rivulets down his body and his fingers ached with pain. Just three letters. M-A-M. Matthew Andrew Morgan. So that at least one person, one day, would know he had been there.
oOo
Abby,
Hey. It's Matt. Look, I know you're going to feel pretty guilty about what happened in Athens, but don't be. It's not your fault—I have only myself to blame for it. And I don't blame you for not being there in Rome. It was my mission, not yours or anyone else's. I was never angry at you for not coming to help me; it was a dangerous mission and I had no right trying to involve you in it, knowing that it could have cost you your life. I did it because I had to. It's over now and I don't blame you for any of it, and you shouldn't either.
Take care of Rachel and Cammie for me. Take care of yourself, too.
And one more thing: Don't be a ghost.
Love,
Matt.
oOo
The next time they descended, he knew it was the end. He knew it by the grim expressions on their faces, by their purposeful strides across the stone floor towards him. It was finished. They had given up on him, couldn't get what they wanted from him, so they were going to kill him. Matthew just managed to choke down the hysterical laughter that was bubbling up his throat. This time, the joke was on them. He hadn't given them anything, had kept his mouth shut about Cammie, Joe, and the list. They had no way of finding his family and putting an end to the threat that he and Joe posed to them. By keeping his mouth shut, he had protected all that he loved.
He had also ensured his own death by doing so. Matthew didn't care. They would have killed him anyway, even if he had given them what they wanted. If he was to die, then so be it. He would die on his own terms, in his own way.
They dragged him out of the basement and out into the sunlight. He felt the warmth on his face and thanked God for that one small blessing, this moment of joy. In the weeks of captivity, he hadn't been outside in the sun at all, and he had missed that. For a moment he basked in it, feeling the tears sting his eyes. And then he was roughly marched before the man with the machine gun that was waiting for him. They stood facing each other, more than fifty feet apart, and Matthew knew he was meant to look down but didn't. It would be his last act of defiance: looking his enemy in the face at his death.
He spread his arms wide, feeling his spirit and the corners of his mouth lift. 'Get on with it, then. Kill me. Kill your chance of defeating us.' His gaze bore into the executioner's. He wanted them to know, wanted them to regret ending his life. 'I know secrets. I know things that will destroy you.'
The man took aim—but he didn't fire. Matthew laughed. 'Kill me and you kill yourselves. I've written down what I know, and it's in a place only I know. My people will find it, and will kill you and all you've worked for.'
The man still didn't fire.
'But it doesn't matter; I'm not going to tell you. So you can kill me now, because I would never endanger my family like that.'
Footsteps pounded into the earth, and a moment later a feminine hand grasped his scalp and forced his neck back, forcing him to look her in the face. He saw the woman from the street, this time with tangled auburn hair and cold dark eyes. 'Tell us, then, Matthew Morgan,' she hissed. 'If you don't, I promise you'll regret it. Your people will regret it. I imagine you don't want anything happening to your darling wife…'
They were just words, meaningless threats. They couldn't hurt Rachel or Cammie, now that he was dying. The Circle would never waste time and resources on fulfilling a promise made to a dead man. Still, a shudder ran through him.
He made himself look her in the eyes. 'You know I won't,' he said. 'And I know you won't. So let's leave it at that, shall we?'
Her lips thinned, but she nodded. 'Goodbye, Matthew Morgan. Joe was right; you were one of the best. A pity you chose to work against us, instead of for us.'
She shoved him away and moved out of sight, nodding to the executioner. 'Kill him.'
So this was it. Despite it all, he felt no fear. His only regret was not being able to see Rachel and Cammie one last time. But perhaps it was better this way, for he realised that if they were there he would not be able to go through with this, to die with dignity.
The executioner took aim, and fired.
Matthew Morgan closed his eyes.