Breaking Free

“Mike, I'm sorry.”

“What are ya talking 'bout? Come on, get movin'!” Mike turned around when his brother was lifting his arm. Suddenly, Mike faced the gun he himself had thrust in Gabe's hand only an hour before.

“You will not go. They will kill you.” Gabe's low voice was barely audible, his words drowned by the howling of an early autumn wind. Mike was forced to scream against the rolling thunder and the rain drumming on tin roofs and splashing against windows. His twin was drenched from head to toe. The usually tousled hair was dripping with water, heavy strands hanging in front of his eyes.

Mike realized how much they had changed since the last time he had stood in this very place. Back then, their heads had been shaven, their faces boyish. He had been slim, and Gabe... Mike tried to forget the image of the past, when he had seen his brother for the first time in two years. Nothing but skin and bones, hardly able to stand on his own feet. The handsome features distorted and pinched. A dull-eyed, broken ragdoll.

Spending day after day with the same routine consisting of sleeping, eating and workouts, confined to the limited space of their cell, Mike had lost track of time. Had it been six or seven years since they had been bought free from the asylum and sold to that creepy company of freaks? It didn't matter.

Finally, they had returned. They had seized the chance and escaped, jumped out of the driving car when their guard had been distracted only for a moment. Mike grinned, for the first and probably last time in his life thanking Tyler, who, in Mike's eyes, had for once proven to be useful when he demanded Jean's attention.

They had been more than lucky that they survived this stunt with only minor injuries. The several scratches weren't worth mentioning, as weren't Gabe's bruised rips and Mike's swollen ankle. They had experienced worse wounds of all kinds, and tonight, once they stepped through the front doors and fired their guns, they would finally close one of those that persistently had refused to heal.
The rain had already washed the blood from Gabe's forehead. His twin had been right – it was just a small cut above his temple, looking worse than it was, Mike had worried too much.
In the end, the worst injury happened to Mike's upper arm. But thanks to Gabe's firm grip the broken bone had snapped back in place easily. As long as Mike didn't move it too much he should be fine. They would find something to use as a bandage later. For now, the bone remained in its meant position, and it was only the left arm anyway; his right arm was in perfect shape and handling a gun or throwing out punches shouldn't be a problem. The pain flashing through his shoulder and down his back with every step on the hard and slippery cobblestone road didn't bother him. It remembered him he really was awake, and the white washed building stoutly standing in front of the gray sky was real and not a dream.

Mike shivered, not only from the cold that began to creep through his bones. His brother was shivering, too, but something else was amiss. Mike had expected to see his own excitement mirrored in his twin's face. Finally, they would have their chance, they would get their revenge and pay them back. Everyone. The useless guards. The doctors that had been talking and talking and talking, as if they knew everything. Yet, they had been blind to the happenings behind their backs, when the so called male nurses and aides ruled the corridors at night, once the fine and oh so smart doctors had returned to their cozy homes.

Gabe's eyes were void of any excitement. His stare was clouded, the usual bright blue looking like dulled, gray steel. Mike blinked when rainwater dripped into his eyes, trying to grasp the discomforting whispers racing through his mind that would explain the uneasy feeling forming in his guts. Gabe wasn't the skinny teenager – closer to death than life - anymore. He hadn't only gained weight - like Mike, also a toned, muscular shape, with strong arms and broad shoulders. They had been taught to use weapons, and to use their bodies as weapons – whyever their 'owners' thought it was a good idea, Mike didn't question it.

They weren't children anymore, if they had ever been, and their bodies had stopped resembling anything childlike years ago.

Those who didn't know them, those who didn't know who they where, where they came from and what had happened to them would have ever guessed what kind of past connected them with the asylum.
Thick, wet hair framed Gabe's sharp features, the cheeks full and healthy, just like his own. Nowadays, nobody would dare to come to close and lay a hand on him, and even if they did, Mike would smash them the second Gabe's muscled would begin to tense up, and both of them knew that.

Somehow, Mike hadn't been aware of the changes in his brother's eyes over the years. Or more likely, he had become used to it, to see them shine. With amusement, with anger or fear, even lust.
Even when he spaced out, locking his mind away from the world around him, they would only go vacant, but not dead.

These, however, were the lifeless eyes from six or seven years ago.

This was wrong, they didn't belong to Gabe, he wasn't the broken child anymore. A wave of anger made him shudder. He didn't want to see Gabe like this. The empty expression, the dullness... he wanted them to stop ridiculing his brother. They were strong, they had learned to fight!

“Bullshit! Damn, idiot, we aren't helpless kids! We can take out five of those fucking security guards easily, and at this hour there usually were only two or three!” he yelled. The unmoved face irritated him, and for a moment he wondered if he had only imagined to hear Gabe speaking before. The gun was still pointing at his shoulder.

“What's the plan, man? Ya wanna stop them from killing me by killing me?” Opening his arms as if offering himself as a convenient target, Mike laughed, ignoring the pain in his left arm when the ends of the broken bone ground against each other.
“Geez, don't be a coward! What ya wanna do, go back? No! No way! Gabe, dammit!” He stuffed his own gun in the waistband of his pants and walked over to his brother. Gabe's arm dropped when his twin came closer and hang limb by his side when Mike took him by his shoulders and shook him.

“How 'bout trusting your big brother a bit?” Mike's hands ran over his twins' cheeks, shoving the wet hair out of his face. “Let's go already. Come and enjoy the show, and I promise to save the best bits for you. Fuck, I've been waiting for this for years, man. I wanna see those assholes choke on their own fucking blood and brainmatter! Please, Gabe, don't ruin this, who knows when we get another chance like this.” His desperate plea ended in a growl as excitement of what was going to happen whirled through his mind, mixing with blinding rage when he thought of what had happened here in the past. He buried his fingers in his brother's hair, pulling him into a kiss. Their lips were wet and cold from the rain, and a chill ran down his spine when he felt his brother's warm breath.

“Ouch! Fuck you!” Mike let go of him, taking a step back when Gabe bit him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand – blood. And his brother was standing still, his face as blank and unmoved as hit had been since they had reached this spot so close to the asylum.

“Idiot. Ain't I'm doing all this shit for you? Come on now, wanna finish this and be outta here before the other fags find us. Didn't break my fucking arm to get caught again.” Grumbling to himself, he took the gun from his waistband. He licked over his lip, feeling the crack in the skin where Gabe's teeth had broken through. The metallic taste was still strong. He looked at Gabe, watching how a thin thread of blood trickled down his brother's chin. Suddenly, Mike grinned.

“This counts as foreplay, gonna get even for that later. Let's go, we're running out of time.”
He grabbed his brother's hand and tried to pull him along, but Gabe didn't move.

“I'm not going in there.”

Giving a deep groan of frustration, Mike let go of his twin's wrist.

“FINE!” In a dramatic gesture, he raised his arms towards the sky, not even turning around to look at his brother. He felt one of his rages boiling up, just the mood he would need for his task. It was bad enough to imagine Gabe's blank expression with his dead, dull gaze, seeing it now was something he didn't need.

“Be a sissy and wait here. I'm gonna do this alone.” Water splashed up his legs when he stomped towards the building, readying the gun. Smashing the skulls of whoever he would meet first would feel better, but he didn't want to take any risks. The first guards of the asylum he would simply shoot down. Maybe into their throats and stomachs, that would do them justice. In his mind, he recalled the faces of two of the guys that had been in charge of his twin. They wouldn't get away with bleeding to death. A bullet to the guts wasn't enough to make them pay for two years of torture and abuse. Mike would make sure they received what they deserved, and he would enjoy every second.

“I'm not going in there!”

Hearing the very same words for the second time, there was something in Gabe's voice that made Mike stop and turn around - an urgent, almost pleading desperation, but also unshakeable firmness.

“Got that the first time, so why on... Gabe! Stop this bullshit!” His eyes wide open, he didn't dare to blink when the rain kept running over his face. In front of him, Gabe hadn't moved an inch. Slowly, he was lifting his arm again, cocking the gun with a click.

“Okay, shoot me, and what's next? Are ya gonna bury me or leave me here, running for it?” This was one of the moments he hated, when he looked at his twin and wasn't able to read what was going on in his mind. His features were still as empty as before, but Mike sensed the storm raging behind this tensed, void facade. He could only hope that he'd find the words Gabe needed to hear to snap out of it.

“So you want me dead? Wanna leave ya alone for good? Or are ya just gonna knock me out? And after that? Are you gonna call a doc? And lie to him so he wouldn't call the police? YOU of all people?” Holding his breath, he watched Gabe's mouth twitch. Something in the blue eyes flickered, giving them for a second their shine back. The storm inside of him was calming down, and Mike thought he could almost hear the gears of his brother's brain work.

“You are right.”

Just when Mike was about to sigh with relief, a faint, sad smile appeared on Gabe's face, telling Mike that everything was just getting worse.

“Gabe...!” In alarm, Mike wanted to take a step towards his brother, but stopped. The gun was lifted once more, this time, pointing at Gabe's own temple.

“I'm sorry. I don't want you to go because I cannot. I'm useless, and you will never be free as long as I hold you back. It's time you take care of yourself already, and run.” Slowly, his hand shaking, he pulled the trigger.

“NO!”

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the street and was finally silenced by the constant drumming of the rain.

Mike tossed his gun away and leaped at his twin, catching him before his head hit the hard stone. Gabe's own gun slid over the ground and disappeared unnoticed in a puddle.

“Idiot! Dammit, ya freaking idiot!” Mike screamed into the pale, silent face as he put his brother down. “Fucking bullshit! Ya think I gonna let ya opt out like this? Leaving me behind with your dumb corpse?” He pulled and stretched the collar of Gabe's shirt until the fabric ripped, revealing the dark hole in his shoulder. Cursing to himself, he ignored his blood-covered hands and the red smears they left on his own skin as he pulled his own shirt over his head. Pressing it against the wound his bullet had torn into the flesh, he hoped to stop the bleeding.

“If ya die on me here I'm gonna kill ya!” Mike spat, anxiously watching the read stream seeping through the makeshift compression dressing consisting of his shirt and the pressure of his hands. A shot in the shoulder shouldn't be lethal. There were no vital organs and even if he hit a main blood vessel, stopping the bleeding should save Gabe from any real danger. He was definitely more likely to survive this than a bullet fired straight through his skull. Still, this was so much blood...

“You are not making sense.” A low chuckle caught his attention. Reluctant to take his eyes away from his hands and their task, Mike glanced at his twin's face. Gabe's eyes were closed, but he was smiling. Not the same sad smile from before. Rather that kind of amused smile that made it difficult for Mike to decide if he wanted to hug his brother or to punch his face. As neither was an option, he gave a snort in response.

“You're not making any fucking sense, dumbass. Thought you were over this 'wanna die' bullshit and -“ He stopped mid-sentence. There had been a time, after their sudden discharge from the asylum, when he would never have left Gabe alone with anything pointy or sharp or that could be turned into a rope.
Let alone with anything like a gun.

“How's your arm?”

“What?” Mike's thoughts were interrupted by his twin's voice. It was faint, already becoming hoarse, and Mike wasn't sure if it was because of the blood loss or because of the cold. Kneeling on the wet ground, he noticed he felt chilly himself. Lying on his back, it had to be worse for Gabe. This wasn't good. This wasn't how he had imagined their escape.

“Your arm. It's broken, remember?” Gabe sighed, flinching when he tried to sit up.

“Keep lying down, ya idiot. My arm's fine.” Mike looked around. Nobody had noticed them, or heard the gunshot. The asylum was the only building inhabited by people all round the clock. The handful of other structures by the main road belonged to a factory. Mike had never cared what was manufactured here, or if the place was only deserted because it was a weekend, or if had been closed. Important to him was that nobody was here to catch them, but also nobody to help.

But at least they should be able to find a shelter from the rain, and maybe something he could use to dress up Gabe's wound, and his own arm. If the company was closed, it could buy them some time, otherwise they would have to find a way to get away and hide somewhere else. If they were lucky, they could find more weapons, and maybe something to eat. Or dry clothes. If not... anyway, he wouldn't be able to move his brother until he was sure the bleeding stopped and wouldn't start again.

“Fuck it all. Have to get ya out of the cold.” Cursing to himself, he wiped the rain from his forehead, leaving another trace of blood that was soon washed over his whole face.

“Call him.”

“Hu?” A cold hand touched Mike's cheek, slowly stroking over the stubble. He looked at his smiling brother in confusion.

“You know who. There must be a telephone somewhere. Call him. He'll help us.”

“No!” One hand still pressing onto the wound, he brushed Gabe's off with the other. “Are you kidding me?! He's gonna take us back! Ya can't be serious!” Staring at the calm face looking up at him Mike saw his brother was serious.


“He betrayed us. You know what happened to us the last time you trusted him. What happened to you!” Mike continued to protest.

“Mike. We have no food, we both are injured. The city is hours away. People come back here on Monday. And I... I don't want to stay here. Not so close. Please Mike, call him.” Gabe reached for one of Mike's blood-covered hands.

“Can't wander off and leave ya here. And I don't remember his number.” Stubbornly, he gnawed on his lip. The small wound from before broke open again. Funny how a few drops were enough to fill a mouth with the taste of blood, he thought by himself, staring at the shirt beneath his hands, unable to tell if it the black fabric looked even darker because of his brother's blood or the rain.

“I won't die from a shoulder wound. I'll wait over there.” Gabe turned his head, nodding at a nearby tree. “And I remember the number.”

“And what should I tell him so he wouldn't sent us to jail right away? Or back there?” He pointed behind his shoulder, at the asylum, but Gabe grinned.

“Well, you of all people should be able to come up with a good explanation. And he won't. He got us out of there.”

“Okay, I give up.” He understood, unable to find it funny. Carefully, he removed the shirt. The wound looked still raw, but the blood had stopped streaming. However, if Gabe moved too much, when running or trying to fight, it would start again. The bullet had to be removed, and the wound stitched.

“Come.” He helped his twin up and half carried, half dragged him away from the road, to one of the trees. Letting him glide to the ground, he propped his brother up against the tree trunk. He sat down next to him and pressed the shirt against the wound, insisting Gabe would keep it in place once he was gone. As he stood up, he wiped his wet and bloodstained hands on his rain-soaked pants, grumbling to himself when he only succeeded to smear the blood even more over his skin.


“Mike.”

“What is it?” He had repeated the numbers Gabe had dictated him several times until he felt confident he would remember, and was about to dash over to the next building, searching for a working telephone. With a frown, he looked down at his shivering twin. Soon, it would be dark, and the wind was freshening up.

“Next time we escape, let's just run away. Far away from this place, and I won't be useless.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Mike stuck out his tongue and ran off.


* * *


“I think Mike told me more than he wanted to when he called me. I was really surprised to hear his voice when I answered the phone.”
Once Sydney and Martin had left the sickbay with the cursing and hissing Mike, the man in the trench coat grabbed a chair and sat down. Holding a cup of coffee with one hand, his other hand run through his wiry hair. When he had met the twins for the first time they had been scrawny teenagers, and only a few single hairs over his ears had been gray.
Now it was only a matter of time when most of his hair was gray instead of brown.
His friendly but worried eyes observed the younger twin. The wound was hidden beneath the white dressing and slowly, the cover was returning to his face.

“So he shot you so you wouldn't shoot yourself,” the detective continued. He offered the cup to the twin, but Gabe ignored him, staring at the wall behind him. With a sigh, the man took a sip himself.

“Haven't seen you two in a while. Compared to the last time, you look really well. Considering that one of you has been shot, the other has a broken arm, and both of you are covered in bruises... guess that says a lot about the last time.” He gave a laugh. “Jumping out of a running car on a highway, stealing guns from an unobserved police car, finding your way back to that place... reckless as always. Let me guess, going there was Mike's idea. Thought so.” He sighed again when he thought he saw something twitch in Gabe's face.

“Talking about guns,” he continued. He put the cup back onto the table and reached into the pocket of his coat, producing one of the guns Mike had stolen. With raised eyebrows, he held it up.

“Found this one in a puddle. It wasn't loaded, but I think you know that. You never planned to harm yourself, right?” Noticing the blush on the twin's face, he grinned. He had lowered his voice, aware that the room was monitored. Sydney had only reluctantly left him alone with the twin, insisting at first that at least Jean, their usual guard, should stay, but the detective insisted on talking with Gabe alone, convinced that the twin wouldn't attack him. Finally, Sydney had yielded, after he had promised his old friend to see him later and reveal to him what magic he used to make Gabe trust him enough to remain so calm, even without his brother present.

There was not much to reveal, except that it was one of his rules to not betray the trust of others, especially not of the twins. So Sydney and his friends would have to contain their curiosity. He couldn't prevent them from watching the conversation, but there was no need why they should hear what he had to say. He had failed the twins once, and the consequences had been devastating for the boys.

'Well, they aren't boys anymore.' He smiled to himself as he mustered the young man. The scratches and the bandage aside – Gabe had never looked that healthy, at least not physically. Years ago, when he had encountered a pair of run down teenage twins for the first time, they had still been more children than men. They had been dirty, hungry, worn out and distrusting everyone.

He only wished Gabe's mental health would be more like it used to be before they had been sent to the asylum. His smile disappeared, and a sudden rush of guilt rolled over him. However, there was nothing he could do to make his mistakes undone, and he comforted himself with the thought that Gabe seemed a lot better since the day he and Sydney had gotten them out of that place, unaware at that time to what horrors they had put a stop.

“I'm really glad about that, you know. I mean, that you want to live.” He almost whispered, grinning again as he imagined Sydney sitting in front of the monitors, straining his ears to overhear them.

“People here are taking good care of you and your brother. I wish you two would understand how lucky you are and stop trying to run away. Well, but maybe you do.” He nodded at the gun in his hand. “That was the reason you tricked Mike, wasn't it? So he wouldn't kill and ruin everything? You planned he would shoot you. I know you guys, a shoulder wound wouldn't have stopped you from running away. Not when you were a scrawny runt ten years ago, and certainly not now, now that you've grown into a strong man.” Chuckling, he put the gun back into his pocket.

“You wanted him to call me and bring you back, because this place is good for both of you, isn't that right?”

Gabe didn't answer, nor did his face give away anything that the detective could read as a yes o no. Silently, he watched the twin. There used to be a time Gabe would have answered, and he wished he could restore the twin's trust in him. Well, at least Gabe remembered the promise he had given him – to call anytime when they got into trouble, and he would try to help them, without involving anyone else from the police officially. After what the twins to endure because he once had broken that promise, he neither blamed Mike for openly hating him, nor Gabe for remaining silent.

A knock at the door put an abrupt end to his hope of finding a way to reach Gabe. With a sigh, he stood up. As it was, he was probably lucky that, for the sake of old times, Gabe would ignore him, instead of trying to kill him. He had kept an eye on them from the distance – Sydney himself had broken his boss' strict rules about confidentiality and sent a copy of the twins' files to the detective. He knew what they were capable of, and that they had reached a point where they wouldn't hesitate anymore to destroy anything or anyone they saw as a threat to their safety.

“Guess that's your medic, or Sydney, that curious son of a bitch. Was good to see you again, kid.” Without thinking about it, he ruffled through the twins now dry hair as he walked past him.

“I'd go everywhere with him.”

The hand already at the knob at the door, the detective turned around.

“What did you say?” Holding his breath as if he feared the sound of inhaling would drown Gabe's voice, he listened.

“Everywhere. But not there.” Still staring at the wall, Gabe fell silent again. Before the detective could say anything, a second, more impatient knocking followed.

“I understand. Then... don't forget my number, okay?” When Gabe nodded, he opened the door.


* end *