Time doesn't freeze. Rather, it moves too fast, the sound of the door crashing open, the vibrations shaking the room, Mathew's gasp-

And Peter surges up against his instincts. Canada isn't the only country in the room. Weak as he is, Sealand is a country too, even if none of the others recognize it. And Sealand won't let Canada, his last and only ally, fall alone.

Then, impossibly-

Laughter.

And Peter freezes, looking towards the source, because he recognizes the voice that's laughing, and it's not a stranger. It's Mathew.

Mathew, on the bottom step, looking up at the figure standing in the door, islaughing, not bitterly, or psychotically, but in a way that sounds relieved. And something in Peter soars, something he'd thought he'd forgotten. Hope. Alfred had come after all.

He's moving, stepping on hands and forcing people to shift out of the way, but no one gets upset or grabs at him, all frozen in the shock of the moment. Under the weight of an unbelievable reality. And Peter feels it too. In a world where humans weren't "people" anymore, in a place hope was lost, impossibly, a 'hero' had come to save them.

And to Peter, someone more than that. Alfred isn't just a hero to Peter. He's a friend, and Peter's only just now letting himself understand that. He reaches Mathew, reaching for his clothes, his hand, anything, and clinging to it, he wants to be there, by Mathew's side, when Alfred and Mathew reunite. He wants to repay Alfred for everything he and jet had done for him, to turn to Alfred and proudly say; 'I found Mattie for you.'

Peter turns to see Alfred's face, but-

"Miss me?"

An unfamiliar voice, but a familiar accent, and when Peter sees the form at the top of the stairs, he stiffens. An unfamiliar person.

But Mathew is unaffected.

"Took you long enough." He quips, grinning in a way that almost rivals Alfred's beam, and Peter looks to him with wide eyes, terrified and confused.

The man who isn't Alfred sighs dramatically at that, a playful note in his tone when he speaks.

"Not my faultyoudidn't follow the plan, mate."

He sounds like Jet, and strange drawl on his words, but it isn't Jet. Jet is darker, tanned, with brown hair, and this man is paler, sandy blond hair closer to Peter's own colour than Mathew's, and though the stranger's accent is the same as Jet's, his voice is more like Mathew's, soft and gentle.

Peter doesn't know how to react. He's terrified, heart pounding so hard that blood rushes in his ears and he feels dizzy, and he knows he should be, its a stranger, someone he doesn't know, someone he cant trust, he doesn't know the stranger's intentions. But the stranger knows Mathew, and Mathew looks happy and relieved to see him. But that doesn't set Peter's heart at ease either. He remembers with a sense of growing unease that he's not sure he can trust Mathew either. It's one thing to fight for his life alongside Mathew. It's a different thing if Mathew has another ally Peter doesn't know that might have bad intentions. And-Mathew knows Peter's secret.

Peter lets go of Mathew like he's been scalded, suddenly eager to put distance between them, his whole body alight with tension and adrenaline. His motion draws Mathew's attention, and Peter finds himself staring into those unnatural purple eyes. He wants to run, to hide, to get away, but he can't. Mathew is blocking the stairs, and even if he does get past Mathew, the stranger is blocking the doorway at the top, and the basement is so packed that there's nowhere to escape behind him. Peter is trapped.

There's whispers, barely breathed, in the shifting forms behind him, a mixtureof unease and hope, like the other captives share Peter's misgivings. It feels like the entire room is waiting on bated breath for Mathew's next words, to find out if they are finally free, or if what awaits is only some new hell. And Mathew falters, like he's reading Peter's unease and fear, and the light in his eyes dim a bit, but when he speaks, his tone is bright and soft.

"Peter, this is my brother, James."

And Peter feels like there is ice in his veins as he glances over at the stranger, studying him. A brother that was neither Jet nor Alfred. True, he sounded a bit like Jet, but the similarities ended there, not enough to claim they were siblings. And Peter can't afford to be fooled. He fixes his eyes back on Mathew, unwilling to risk taking his eyes off the potential enemy in front of him for too long. Peter remembers too well how Mathew's face twisted when he realized Sealand was alive.

Peter remains vigilant.

"He's not Alfred."

Alfred was the one Mathew had said was coming, he was someone Peter trusted. Neither Mathew nor Alfred, nor Jet had ever mentioned a 'James'. And Mathew definitly heard the mistrust in Peter's voice this time, his expression falling, but he bravely continued on.

"I thought it would be Alfred," Mathew admitted sheepishly, "since James and I got separated when I was taken."

"We weren't 'separated', " James interupts suddenly, and his soft voice sounds accusing, "Someonedecided to investigate on his own instead of waiting for me, instead of following our plans, which wehavefor areason."

Mathew looked away at the accusation, undeniably guilty, but pretends he didnt hear it.

"Anyways, you can trust him. James wont hurt you, I promise."

Peter stares. Couldhe trust him? A stranger he'd never heard of before and a country that doesn't like that he's alive? But Peter wants to trust them, he wants them to be on his side. The sense of safety and protection he's learned while with Jet and Alfred is addictive, and Peter doesnt want to be afraid and alone anymore. And, technically, Mathew kept his promises. Both of them.

"I'll protect you."

And Mathew had, going to fight an unknown attacker, even at risk of his life, though in the end that fight never needed to happen.

"My brother is going to come free us."

And if Mathew wasn't lying, he'd kept this promise too. True, it wasnt Alfred, like they'd expected, but even so-

Peter wants to believe in Mathew. He searches his memory for something, anything, that can verify what Mathew is claiming, that will let Peter trust them.

And surprising even himself, he finds it.

"We were together, me and him, and Jet and another sibling, but we all got separated while looking for bunkers."

Alfred's sleepy voice, the night Alfred told Peter about Mathew.

Relief floods Peter, and with it comes shame. Shame at how he treated Mathew, hot and then cold, begging him to stay when it was dangerous,but avoiding Mathew when it was safe. And shame at himself, unable to control his feelings, unable to trust Mathew, even when mathew had been nothign but kind and helpful to him. Even when Peter wanted to trust Mathew.

A voice in the crowded basement speaks, hesitant and shaky.

"Are we...saved?"

And Mathew and his brother speak at the same, as though answering the question, but Mathew doesnt break eye contact with Peter.

"Yes. Everyone's safe."

And Peter takes a step closer to Mathew, reaching for his hand.