So yeah, I've decided to give this story a try, I hope it will work out!

The previous chapter will be the pronologue.

BTW, THANKS so much for all the wonderfull reviews! Oh and I'm still looking for a beta, somebody interested?

Chapter 1

Matthias, Matthew and Alfred

On a rainy Saturday afternoon, Arthur was placed in a grave next to his father. Alfred didn't remember much of that day, that whole day had been fuzzy in his mind and blurred in front of his eyes. He was later told that the ceremony had been beautiful, that many people had showed up to pay their last respects, that even the sky had seemed to be weeping for the loss of his beloved brother. He couldn't for the life off him remember these things, neither the words spoken at the church nor the faces of all those present nor the cold rain on his skin. The only thing he could clearly remember about that day was how much this funeral reminded him of the one his parents had, he had been in a same state then, blankly staring ahead, trying to deny the truth, not wanting to accept the reality. Yes, in many ways Arthur's funeral was the same as that one so many years ago, but there were two noticeable differences;

Standing there, watching as his brother disappeared in front of his eyes, his twin next to him breaking down; Alfred himself couldn't cry, not one tear. Maybe he had used them all up the night he'd seen Arthur bleed to death, maybe there was nothing to cry about anymore, maybe he was just so cold-hearted he couldn't even squeeze out one little tear at his own brothers funeral.

Whatever the case, Alfred just stood there, watching, as history repeated itself and yet again, he had to say goodbye far too soon. Only this time, there wasn't even that reassuring hand in his, which could've given him the drive and courage to face this cruel world yet again.

Not long after that, the police dropped Arthur's case, deeming it a simple burglary gone terribly wrong. The evidence had been looked at, papers had been filled, everybody questioned; the police was unable to crack it and tossed it away, giving Arthur's attacker the chance to escape with his terrible crime unpunished. No closure, no nothing. The police didn't do jack-shit, Alfred would never forgive them for giving up so easily.

Although they had to leave it for some time when it was still considered a crime scene, Matthew and Alfred returned to the home they'd grew up in, and decided to keep living there. It was one of the only things the two could agree on; it seemed like an invisible barrier had been placed between them, one they could not cross. They did not talk. When they did notice each other it was to fight and argue…although, mostly Alfred was the one doing the shouting and yelling while Matthew could break the other down with silently vicious remarks, so well placed that the never silent Alfred was often rendered speechless. It was strange, they had always been different, but only now it became apparent how different they really were. In the aftermath of the rush to the hospital, the funeral, the police investigation and their general grieve, they seemed to have lost sight of each other, creating a huge rift between the twins. One that could not easily be crossed. Though, Alfred had to admit, it had partly been his own fault, in the beginning, just after all that had happened, Matthew had tried to reach out, had tried the grab his hand to share their grief; but Alfred had pushed him away. Neither of them tried to help each other after that.

But as stated before, the one thing they could both agree on was the desire to stay in that house. Alfred didn't really know why he wanted to life in a house that caused him such a considerable trauma and he also didn't know why Matthew agreed with Alfred's loud exclamation that he wanted to go back, but he did and so they came to live in their home again. Though neither of them dared to take one step into Arthur's bedroom again; the door remained closed.

Matthias was great, Alfred had to admit this, the man helped them out and tried to take care of them in his own way. He planned the funeral, was there when they were questioned and was able to pull a few strings so that the house remained theirs. Matthias also decided to move in with them for a while, just to help them out with their grieve and anger. He told them he promised Arthur he would take care of the two of them if something happened and he did just that. Though at that point, Alfred couldn't really care less, he was to focused on his own life to notice anybody else.

Grief is handled differently.

Matthew became overly neat and motherly. He would spend hours cleaning and dusting and tidying things up. He insisted he'd cook, wash the dishes, do the laundry etc. Matthew didn't grant himself one moment to relax, to think, to reload. He was busy, busy, busy. All day long. He studied a lot too, buried himself into paperwork and books. He was always doing something useful or helping someone out.

Alfred was the complete opposite, he retreated completely into his own world. If he wasn't sitting in his room listening to loud music and smoking tobacco he was outside going to every party that was in the vicinity. He was rude and mean to anyone, didn't listen to Matthias when he reprimanded him and seemed to completely forget he had a boyfriend. At one point, after finding a drunken Alfred yet again making out with someone else, Kiku finally had enough and left.

Matthias truly tried everything to help the two brothers, but with all his friendliness and charisma, he wasn't the one they wanted, he wasn't Arthur. He tried to make Matthew relax, he tried to reprimand every time Alfred came home drunk. But nothing seemed to work, they tolerated him, but they certainly didn't listen to him, though Alfred remained the worst; he was rude, obnoxious and sometimes even endangered his own health. Of course, Matthias had his own grief to deal with too; Arthur had been his best friend, his comrade, but the only way he could go on was to honour Arthur's wish. So he couldn't leave the difficult situation, he couldn't just walk away, Arthur would've never forgiven him. So he tried, send the boys to a psychiatrist, locked Alfred's door when he wanted to go out again, forced Matthew to take five seconds to relax. Matthias just couldn't accept that he was failing at the task Arthur had appointed to him.

And so it went on for three months, the only change in the situation was that college began, which Matthew attended, but Alfred had given up on (no matter how much Matthias complained about it), but one Saturday night, everything changed.

Alfred was lying on his bed, doing absolutely nothing but listening to music, he was alone in the house; Matthew was out studying with some classmates and Matthias was working an important case. Alfred was aware that in about two hours a house party would start a few blocks from there and he had every intention to go; he was so going to crash it! But first, he could kill for a couple of drinks, unfortunately, Matthias had gotten rid of the liquor in the house. But fortunately, Alfred knew that Matthias had only wanted Alfred to believe the alcohol was gone, and hid his own personal stash. In the attic.

Grinning at his own brilliance, Alfred exited his room and walked the stairs to the attic. The attic was quite big and full of old stuff, none of them really used it much; it was more like a storage room than an attic. It was big, with a filthy rug decorating the floor and high shelves on the wall. And there, on the highest shelve stood a big brown box. Alfred grinned again, Matthias was so gullible to believe Alfred wouldn't be able to find out where the liquor was stored! Just last week, Alfred had seen Matthias take that box to the attic, at the same time the alcohol was removed. Alfred wasn't a rocket scientist, but he wasn't an idiot either, that box undoubtedly contained sweet delicious mind-numbing goodness and he was going to get it.

Alfred confidently grabbed a chair and placed it under the shelf, then in one swift motion he moved to stand on it. The chair creaked and protested but held. If he put his arms up and reached he could just touch the box, but just when he had a firm hold, the chair ominously creaked again and before Alfred could even shift his position, it broke with a very loud creak, causing Alfred and the box which he held -not so tightly- to fall onto the floor with a loud bang.

Groaning, Alfred sat up, caressing his bum; that was going to leave a serious mark, it hurt like a bitch.

"Damn it!" He yelled in frustration. "Can't I ever catch a break?"

Then he realized something.

The box had made a suspiciously tame sound for it to be filled with bottles of alcohol. Frowning, Alfred looked next to him were the box lay.

"Fuck."

He should've known he would be screwed over, the box was on its side, contents spilling out, and it sure as hell weren't bottles that were spilling out, no, it was just some lame papers and binders. He should've known Matthias would be more secretive about his stash, damn it all to hell! Angry, he slapped the box away from him, making more stuff spill out. After that he went to sulk on the floor, knees bend and his arms over them. He was feeling crappy again, the kind of crappy that was treatable with alcohol, to be denied the delicious beverage was just plain cruel. No matter how much Matthias preached that it was bad for him, what did that jackass know anyway?

Right then, something shiny caught the corner of his eye. Curious, Alfred turned towards the papers that were spilled across the floor. He could see something silver shining beneath them. Slowly he crawled to the object, fishing it out from the papers.

His eyes widened.

It was Arthur's.

Arthur's pendant, the one he never took off.

What was it doing here? Why wasn't it buried with Arthur?

His eyes fell back to the papers, Then he froze.

Statements, blueprints, suspect lists; the police reports from Arthur's murder.

What the hell was Matthias thinking?

Shaking, Alfred looked to the binder that was lying a little away from him. He grabbed it.

ARTHUR KIRKLAND

The whole map was filled with Arthur's personal information, report cards, bank transactions, solicitations, even personal letters. Surprised, Alfred looked at the different documents; what was Matthias doing with all these? Why was he collecting all Arthur's information? Some pages seemed to be marked, turning the page to the first mark, Alfred eyes widened. It was Arthur's handwriting; a letter it seemed, with some sentences underlined. Alfred quickly began reading.

Dearest Matthias,

I hope you'll never read this letter for it would mean that I met an untimely end. If you're reading this; I'm sorry I couldn't hold on, whichever reason that may have been. I'm also sorry that I couldn't return you feelings, I know I never gave you a solid reason and it pains me to admit that the answers to your questions will be buried with me; it's simply too hard for me to talk about my teenage years. But I want you to know it had nothing to do with you … You've always been a very good friend to me and I'm happy I met you. But most of all, I'm sorry for the burden I'm about to lay on you…

I asked you once what you would do if I were to die, you remember right? I hope you meant what you said back then, because I intent to make full use of your offer.

Please, take care of Alfred and Matthew in my place. I don't know how old they will be when you read this, but please, do what's necessarily so that they can deal with my dead. I know my brothers, I know they will not deal with this thing the right way, they will not attempt to properly grieve, in fact, they will do everything but that. Please, I beg of you, try to help them anyway you can; they've already lost too much, I do not want them to lose their future too. By the way, you've got my blessing to whoop their butts if they are too rude, especially Alfred! Don't let him walk all over you now!

I know I never talked much about my time in Great Britain and I'm sorry if that made you feel insecure about our relationship, I never meant for that. The only thing I'm able to tell you is that I was happy there once, but circumstances made my life very unpleasant.

Please, I know you, don't go looking into my past; leave it alone. What's done is done, you can't bring me back. My mother lives in London under the name of Elizabeth White, please tell her what's become of me.

You take care now, find a good wife or husband, bloody commit for a change.

I wish for you to be happy.

I'll miss you, and the boys too; be sure to tell them that.

Arthur.

…

He was not going to cry, he was not.

What did it matter anyway? Arthur was gone! What did some crappy letter really mean? Not a damn thing! Arthur had left them and left behind a cheap imitation of his brother to take care of them… Take care of them; they were old enough to take care of themselves! This letter; full of bull, it didn't matter anymore. Who was Arthur kidding?

How could he think they would be fine after he died?

How could he think some stupid letter with instructions to Matthias would make any difference in the way his death would be dealt with?

'take care of Alfred and Matthew in my place'

Who was he fucking kidding?

He wouldn't cry.

Hand shaking, Alfred moved the page to the second marker. It was the suspect list, all the names crossed off. Alfred snapped the binder closed, he had seen enough; he had wanted to get drunk not be confronted with his death older brother. What was Matthias doing with these documents? Had he some sick obsession with his brother?

Or…

Was he trying to find out the truth about his green-eyed tight-lipped fool of a brother?

"I should have expected this…"

Recognizing the voice, Alfred slowly turned around. In the door opening stood Matthias, his big shoulders slumped and his expression saddened.

"Matthias…What is all this?"

Matthias took two steps forward, before crouching and taking the binder from his hands, then he rose again, looking down on him.
"You know what this is Alfred." Matthias turned around, walking back towards the doorway. "Come with me to the kitchen."

Alfred obediently followed after the tall man. Yes, he knew what Matthias was doing, he should've guessed Matthias wouldn't give up on Arthur's murder without a fight. He should've known. Matthias always was persistent when it came to his brother.

Silently, Alfred went to sit by the kitchen table, watching as the depressed looking giant began to make some coffee. Wicked, he seriously needed some caffeine right about now. A short while later, both had steaming cups of (delicious) coffee in front of them. Alfred sipped his and sneaked a glance at the man in front of him. "So…are you going to explain to me why you have a whole binder of super-personal/inappropriate information about my big brother? "

"I never intended for you to find out…"

"That you're a creepy stalker?"

"Quit it Alfred, I'm too tired to listen to your childishness."

Alfred looked up at Matthias; he really did look tired. It must've been a few hard months for him too. But it was his own fault really, Alfred reasoned with himself, he was the one that offered to take care of them. No matter what Arthur had written in that letter; ultimately it had been Matthias's own choice.

But now…

"Your still looking for his killer aren't you?" Alfred asked the older man, voice for once dead serious. "You haven't given up." Like I thought you did, like I did…

Matthias nodded slowly. "I couldn't believe that his case was abandoned so easily, I know you hated me for that, Alfred, hated me for just giving up like that. It's probably part of the reason why you've been such an insufferable asshole lately-"

"Hey!"

"I started gathering information about your brother, his life here in America is pretty traceable, but his life before he came here… I know almost nothing."

Alfred perked up. "Almost?"

"That letter, he mentioned his mother in that letter, I've managed to trace her down. She lives in the outer parts of London… I don't know anyone here who would've wanted to hurt Arthur, but the way he was murdered was distinctly personal. I think that by figuring out his past we might find the killer… and if not… maybe we'll find out a little more about the life you father took him away from."

"How can we be sure that his killer is in Arthur's past?"

Matthias looked into Alfred's eyes. "Arthur told me."

Broadly grinning Matthias slammed Arthur's font door open (without so much as a knock) and walked briskly to the living room. But, hearing the commotion, Arthur already came running.

"Bloody hell, Matthias! Would it kill you to ring the doorbell, you almost gave me a heart attack."

Matthias laughed. "Don't pop a vein, Arthur! Relax! I thought it would be a good idea for us to go hit the bars!"

Arthur looked at him as if he had just suggested to go to a Justin Bieber concert "It's two in the bloody afternoon on a bloody Sunday. Are you off your rocker?" huffing, Arthur turned and walked back to his living room, Matthias followed (still grinning like hell) and went to sit by the kitchen table, dimly playing with the tablecloth while Arthur went to the counter to make some tea.

"Alfred's right, Mr Killjoy; you need to remove that stick up your ass."

Arthur turned and glared. "Don't be vulgar, idiot. No wonder Alfred has adapted such a shameless vocabulary, he's been listening to you for god knows how long!"

Matthias shrugged. "The boy has a knack for finding things to irritate you with." Arthur grumbled while pouring hot water into two cups. "By the way, where are the two rascals?"

"Alfred's with Kiku; I really don't want to know what they're doing."

"Eeeeew"

"Quite, Matthew's with that Cuban exchange student, helping him with homework. He's such a little angel!" Arthur smiled fondly while he placed two cups on the table.

"Did you just squeal?"

"I did no such thing."

"You do realize he's taller and broader than you are?"

"Shut it."

Just then, the sound of an incoming fax was heard (yes, Arthur still owned a fax machine). Matthias had to snicker about that; although the short blonde haired man was not even thirty years old, he sometimes(always) acted like an cranky old man.

Maybe it was something British… then again, it could also just be Arthur.

Matthias frowned when he saw the other stiffen while he was reading the fax. The blonde's hand that was holding the paper began to shake (in hurt? Anger? Fear?) and his face became a tad paler.

"Arthur? What is it?"

The man didn't answer, his eyes still trained on whatever was written on that piece of paper.

"Arthur?"

No response.

Now he was getting worried, Matthias stood from his stool and tried once again to get his friend's attention. "Arthur!"

Surprised as if he had just now realized Matthias was in the room with him, Arthur's head shot up. His eyes were blank and unreadable but his face was still pale. "…Yes?"

"Don't 'yes' me!" he said. "What's wrong?"

Arthur seemed to freeze for a moment, before a small smile found its way on his face, and he happily waved the paper. "Nothing's wrong, Matthias! Just a letter from an old friend, someone… someone from my time in England. It's good to hear from him again!"

His voice sounded joyful, his eyes were shining gleefully and his smile stretched over his whole face.

To Matthias, it wasn't hard to see that Arthur was faking it.

And when Matthias, several hours later, fisted the piece of paper from the trash can, he could see what had shocked Arthur so badly.

'This is your last chance Arthur. Give me what I want, I'm not going to ask again.

If you don't, you'll surely regret it.

-AP'

Alfred shot up. "He was getting threatened? When?"

Matthias looked down. "A few weeks before the murder. I tried to talk about it to him, but he said it was nothing, just a silly joke between the two. "

"And you believed him?"

"Have you forgotten how persuasive your brother could be?"

Alfred shoulders sagged. "So what now?"

"I'm going to England, I've finally found his mother. I'm going to tell her the news about his dead, from there on, I'll find out the truth."

Alfred looked at the other man, Matthias had changed, no longer all smiles and teasing. Alfred hadn't noticed before, but Arthur's dead had affected him a great deal too. Judging from Arthur's letter, Matthias might've really loved his older brother. It must've been hard, taking care of Matthew and him too.

Not that Alfred had made it any easier on him, he realized with a stab of guilt.

"Let me go with you."

Matthew mummed quietly to himself while walking back to his house. Happily swinging the bag of goodies he had picked up on the way home. This study session had gone good, he was doing great in college. Matthew smiled softly to himself, when he got home he should cook something for the two other men; they needed to eat!

After that, maybe he could reorganise the bookcase; Alfred had the habit of messing it all up, not that he often read. But Matthias had complained yesterday that he couldn't find a book, so Matthew would make sure it wouldn't happen again.

It was nice weather for walking, a decent temperature, not to hot, not to cold. It was already dark, the nights sky visible. Matthew smiled softly again and spread his arms, breathing in.

It was all going to be okay.

Finally he made it to his home, unlocking the door he went inside. Matthew removed his shoes from his feet and grabbed the bag, moving to go to the kitchen. He was surprised to hear two voices coming from there; Matthias and Alfred, they weren't even screaming at each other.

Mm strange.

Shrugging, he opened the door and stepped into the (rather small) kitchen. Matthias and Alfred both seemed surprised to see him, (hadn't they heard him come in?) they were sitting at the kitchen table.

Matthew smiled at them. "Good evening, I've gotten groceries, shall I cook something?" without waiting for an answer he turned to the kitchen counter, unpacking the bag.

Really, he was the perfect brother, why was Matthias always complaining?

"Matthew!" Alfred's excited voice spoke up, loud and brash. Matthew whirled around, surprised. Where was the anger? Why was he sounding happy? Matthew hadn't heard the other's voice sound like that since before his death … Alfred's face too… Something had changed.

Matthew stiffened when he saw Alfred clutching that letter.

"Mattie!" Mattie? Alfred was calling him Mattie again? "We're going to England!"

Matthew staggered on his feet, England? Alfred couldn't possibly be serious!

"…What?"

Matthias signed. "No, tact as usual… You see Matthew-"

"We're going to find the bastard who killed Arthur, Mattie! We're finally going to get the son of a bitch!"

Matthew could almost hear Arthur's 'language' before he fully understood the words his twin was spewing. Matthew frowned, was his brother delusional? "What are you talking about, Alfred? We aren't going to England."

"Yes we are! Listen to me Matthew! This letter." Alfred frantically waved the letter in Matthews face. "It tells us who Arthur's mom is! Matthias has been investigating and,-"

"That letter also says to leave the past be." Matthew's cold voice interrupted.

"-Yeah, but we don't… How do you know that?" Alfred seemed dumbfounded, Matthias was frowning too.

"I've found the binder a few weeks ago, Matthias has been investigating, I know that."

Alfred continued to look at him, speechless. Matthias got up from his seat, still frowning. "You knew?"

Matthew smiled sweetly at him. "You aren't the best at keeping something a secret, uncle Matthias."

Matthias walked towards him. "But if you knew… Why didn't you ask me about it? Weren't you eager to know more about his dead too? Weren't you mad at me for keeping it quiet?"

Matthew's face hardened, the smile slipping from his face. "I am mad, but not because you didn't tell me. I'm mad because you can't let it rest."

"Let it rest?" Alfred cried out. "Don't you want justice?" Alfred shot forward and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Don't you want to know what happened?" Blue eyes bored themselves in his, alight with fire; it seemed that Alfred was returning to his old self.

Matthew looked down, hair obscuring his eyes. "Didn't you read the letter?" He asked calmly. "Both of you" he couldn't hide the disdain in his voice. "Didn't you read it?"

"Mattie! You're not making sense,-"

"Didn't he tell you in the letter?" Matthew's face shot up and he wildly slapped Alfred's hands from his shoulders. "Don't go looking for my past, that's what he wrote!" He was angry, more angry than he had been in a long while, didn't they understand?

Seeing Alfred's face break out in a relieved grin didn't exactly help temper his anger. "That's all? Mattie, come on, you can't take everything serious what that old geezer said-"

SLAP

Alfred face was slammed to the side by his palm, Matthew knew Alfred hadn't been expecting it; his eyes were wide with surprise. A red mark already forming on his cheek. "You're just too fucking SELFISH! The both of you! After all Arthur has done for us, can't WE give him at least this much! Can't we at least respect his final wishes?"

Alfred slowly turned to his twin. Was this the same Matthew he always had to save from bullies? The same kid who couldn't finish one sentence when in company of strangers? The most gentle boy ever to walk the face of the earth?

"…you hit me." Alfred slowly said, before angrily grabbing the other's shoulders again. "No matter what that letter says, somebody hurt our brother and it's our DUTY to find out WHO! Don't you care? Don't you fucking give a damn about what happened?"

Matthews eyes were spewing fire, he struggled to get free, but Alfred's grip was too strong. In retaliation, he grabbed Alfred's collar. "How dare you insinuate that I don't care! You, who have been doing nothing but destroy this family for the past moths! I'VE been taking care of you! You ungrateful ass!"

"At least it's better than some traitor!"

"Traitor? I'm not a traitor, you are! Telling everyone that you're a hero, when you are a GOOD for NOTHING!"

"At least I CARE!"

"Care? Care! I forget; Who was the one who knocked Arthur down while intoxicated!"

Silence met his statement and Matthew knew he had gone too far. He knew Alfred had never forgiven himself for that night. But he couldn't help it; he was angry, sad, confused.

"You two, stop it." A voice spoke up.

Matthias. They had forgotten about him.

"We are going to England. Because even though Arthur didn't want you to know about his past, first and foremost he wanted you two to be happy. Both of you need closure. We are going to England and both of you will become happy once more."

Matthew turned around, Alfred's hands having fallen limp.

"Matthias…"

"I made a promise." A hand attempted to hide the tears, futile. "And I'm damn well going to keep it."

A Letter from you

Arthur,

I don't like you.

You're smelly and ugly and you have huge eyebrows!

I hope I see you as less as possible.

Bye,

Francis

P.S Your wrong, French is a beautiful language!

I know that the letter from you bit doesn't make much sense now, but it will later!

I hope you enjoyed it!

Please review, I'm not to sure about this story and I would like to have some feedback, whether good or bad.