Whatever Alfred did to bring him back was beyond Mathew's understanding. He'd been gone for almost a year before Alfred managed it, and yet his rotting and decaying body is just as pristine and healthy - at least to the outside eye - as it had been before he died. Before he fell through the ice on the pond. Before the hypothermia forced him to leave, earlier than he liked. And now he's back, different than before. It isn't just the bloodlust, or the hunger for flesh, or the aggression and anger he feels all the time. He'd changed physically too.

For starters, he couldn't sleep. He didn't need to use the bathroom either, and had difficulty keeping down food. Normal food, at least. The raw meat and the blood- those stayed down, but each "meal" still left Mathew feeling queasy, for different reasons. That and he couldn't be injured. Wounds and injuries healed themselves, right in front of his eyes, no matter how severe. Which meant Mathew couldn't even put himself back to rest.

I'm tired.

But that all would end today. Mathew had been watching the door all day, waiting. Whether Alfred liked it or not, help was coming, and Mathew couldn't wait to see his older brother again.

He'd almost forgotten his anger - No, that isn't mine! It's not me! - when the doorbell finally rang.

Alfred answered the door.

"Hello- A-Arthur!"

The fear and guilt coloured Alfred's tone almost immediately. His twin never had been any good at hiding his emotions, and Alfred was even worse today. His fingers went white with his grip on the doorframe, and his face visibly paled. His voice shook as he tried to act casual.

"Artie? What are you doing here?"

And even though Mathew couldn't see Arthur from where he sat, he could almost picture his older brother's face as he responded in a flustered voice.

"What? You called me! You said you had something important you needed my help with!"

"What? I didn't? What would I-"

And Mathew saw the exact moment Alfred figured it out, flashing wide and startled eyes towards Mathew. Mathew looked away. I'm sorry. Alfred would feel betrayed, Mathew knew this, but it couldn't be helped. They needed Arthur to set everything right again.

"Alfred!" Arthur fussed, trying to push past Alfred, "Why are you being so strange? And what's with all the bandages? You-"

Alfred tried to block Arthur from entering, from seeing into the room. Mathew moved towards the doorway. Arthur finally managed to break partially past, and Alfred's babble of excuses cut off suddenly as Arthur gasped. Mathew met his big brother's eyes.

"Hey, Art. I missed you."

And Alfred looked like he was breaking apart.

"Mathew?" Arthur's voice shook, and he looked like he'd seen a ghost. "It can't be, you-"

Mathew tried to smile, but his lips refused to cooperate.

"Yes. But I'm back now."

And Arthur walked towards him like a fawn taking its first steps, shaking on his legs. He reached a hand out to Mathew, and Mathew pushed down the unreasonable rage (no! That's not me!) he felt at that. Then Arthur collapsed onto Mathew, nearly crushing his youngest brother in a hug. And Mathew didn't say anything.

Arthur would fix things, make them right again, save Mathew from this monster he'd become. But it would hurt his older brother, so much more than the first time did, in a way Band-Aids can't heal. So Mathew stayed still.

He could wait a bit longer. Arthur deserved it.

Alfred made a noise like a frog being strangled in the background.

Everything was going to end soon, and both Mathew and Alfred knew it.