plan (logan)

[Will Andrews]

Blue shoes, red shoes, white shoes, black shoes, black shoes, no shoes...
I glance up fairly quickly at the break in routine, watching with an incredulous yet amused expression as a man in a thick, moth eaten coat shuffles past barefoot.
You get some right strange people out here, I suppose. I'm no better, I suppose.
It's not completely normal to just sit on a bench like this and stare at people's shoes as they amble past, but it's sort of interesting. More interesting than looking at their faces.
When people are walking briskly through parks like this one on a cold January day like this one, their faces are all nastily closed up with no expression because they don't want to draw attention. It's just boring to watch.
Well, they can't hide their shoes from me. Apart from that guy...the guy in the thick coat can hide his shoes from me, being as he's not wearing any.

I think I've gone a bit loopy, actually.
Ha.
I grin wryly to myself, bobbing my head from side to side as I acknowledge my own little joke.
How amusing it is indeed, to claim that I've gone a bit loopy, when I've spent nearly a decade in a psychiatric ward.
Ha...ha ha.
It's a pleasant kind of loopy. I mean, no one has to know that I've gone a bit wrong because I'm not going to hurt anyone. It's just nice for me as well. I'm not really worried about anything, I'm just having a grand old time looking at people's shoes as they walk past.

Really, I should be a little bit worried.
So I'm out in the big wide world again and I've got a reasonably firm grasp on reality again and what do I do with my newfound freedom?
I sit on a bench in a muggle park and observe people's shoes.
Well, there we go then. What a wonderful plan. Let's just stay here and do that.
I splutter with unamused laughter as I try and use sarcasm on myself, because it really did just sound stupid, but then quickly move a hand up to hide my face on the pretense of scratching my nose as someone stops to look at me quizzically for a moment.
They carry on.
I breathe a sigh of relief.

I do need a plan though.
I need some sort of sequence of events to put into action and then I won't feel like a total failure.
I imagine I look like a total failure. People will be walking past thinking that I'm a tramp or a vagrant or some such.
Then I realise that's exactly what I am. I don't have any money, I don't have a home...so I guess that does make me a vagrant.
Huh.
So I really do need a plan then.
I'm a little hesitant about contacting anyone that I used to know, as I have been missing for over a decade now, and because I don't know where I would find anyone nowadays. If they have any sense they would have gone far away from here by now.
But again, I really do not have any money or anywhere to go.
Maybe that means that I do not need to have a plan then. Maybe I'll be a vagrant full time and I'll hang around on benches and beg for spare change and eat out of bins.
Hm...appealing.
The internally directed sarcasm isn't as amusing this time. More pitiful than anything.
Damn.

[Logan Andrews]

Another day and another pointless, tedious walk.
It's fairly addictive though. I started the whole aimless walking thing when the walls started to close in, but now it's sort of a preemptive gesture. Get up, go for walk, then it all really depends on where I find myself how long the walk will last.
I think it's going to be a quick walk today though. I've decided I'm going to stick to the muggle world in the immediate vicinity of Arden's, in light of Fitzy's recent appearance and that whole realistion that I really genuinely can't just stay holed up forever and hope that they stop looking for me.
The muggle world is not as interesting as the various wizarding streets I prefer to frequent, and it's also a lot tougher going. There's a lifetime's worth of pure hatred and disgust stored up in my head for all the people I'm surrounded by and I constantly have to ignore it.
It's even worse today because I also have my wand in my pocket and I'm very aware that it's there. Too aware really. I've had to start bringing it out with me again, despite the raised level of temptation, because I'm concerned that I may have to end up trying to defend myself.
I think I'd rather be killed resisting arrest than ever go back to Azkaban, although I don't really want to die very much either so I'll just have to stay careful and out of sight.

I'm also getting very bored of winter, I note half-heartedly because at the moment my mind is still on bleaker and bigger things.
I wish it would just stop being winter and be a sensible temperature again. Is it spring soon? I really don't have any idea how long it is until it starts to get warmer again because I'm not keeping an accurate track of the days as they go by. I've no idea what day of the week it is, or the date, or the month even. I'm fairly sure it's either late December or early January, but that's as much as I'm aware of.
Maybe I should just give in and go back before I freeze. I'm hyper sensitive to the cold nowadays anyway, spending all that time in a place as cold as Azkaban can have that effect on a person.
I don't want to give up just yet though. This will no doubt be one of the very few things that I actually do today.

I pause for a few seconds as I come to the entrance to a muggle park. There's bound to be a few people in there, so I'm not sure if I should go through, go round or turn back entirely. Or maybe because it's so cold there won't be many people there.
I think I'll go with that logic, actually, so I head into the park, clenching my teeth precautionarily so I probably look like I'm in pain or something. Brilliant.
But it appears I was right and there aren't that many people. Just a few, and most of them seem to be the homeless looking sort.
It's as I'm walking past one bench with a particularly confused looking man on it, that something clicks up in my brain that something wasn't quite right there. I look over my shoulder, but he's still looking confused and doesn't seem to pay me any heed, and there is still something not quite right.
I think that I maybe know him from somewhere, which doesn't make much sense at all, but there is something very familiar about him indeed. Unnervingly so.

[Will Andrews]

I'm still frowning bemusedly into space and being generally concerned over my current predicament when I'm aware of a slight change in the light on the periphery as if someone's suddenly stopped there and thrown the whole world off balance.
Gee thanks, knobhe-...
I even stop in my own thoughts as I actually turn to look.
Holy hell.
Talk about coming face to face with one's demon.

Or I could be delusional. That's most likely it. I've spent a decade in a psychiatric ward, taking pills three times a day in an attempt to keep me sane and connected to this reality...of course I'm going to have a little trouble reconnecting, of course I'm going to have little blips where I think I see something impossible like this
Because I think I've just seen my brother in the muggle world.
I blink stupidly over in his direction, expecting to see either nothing at all or a completely different person standing there, but no...it's still him.

Of course I'm sure of it. So it's been over a decade since I've seen him, so I sort of assumed someone would have offed the asshole by now...I still know my brother when I see him.
It helps that we're supposedly 'identical'...never really seen that myself but I do know that we look fairly similar in the face, no matter how different our clothes, or hair, or expressions are. There's always been that defiant element to it, of course, the 'i don't want to look anything like you' element that I'm sure most twins get and they spend time going out of their way to look different.
I don't think that in most sets of twins, one will try and permanently scar the other one to make very clear the difference. I run my hand idly over the very faded scar on the side of my head which disappears up into my hairline...we were only eight at the time, if I recall, and we were very violent children, so I can't hold that against him.

What I can hold against him however...is that he's still alive for one thing...but that he tried to kill me, that he wiped clean everything in my head by accident instead, that I've spent ten years thinking I was completely crazy but never knowing for sure because of what he did. I don't even want to get started on what he's done to other people, innocents, and especially what he may or may not have done to people that I actually care about in the time being.
So for a moment I'm fairly sure my expression is dark, bordering between scowl and that strange growling sort of expression where a predatory animal pulls back their lips form their teeth to make it damn clear they're not pleased and I contemplate...I don't know...doing something ridiculous like tackling the bastard or something.

But that would be ridiculous. And stupid. And I don't want him to actually kill me this time. And also by the incomprehension on his face, he has not recognised me.
Bastard.
If there's anything worse than him recognising me, it's the fact that he doesn't, that he looks totally lost...I'm actually vaguely insulted, which is nonsensical.
But nothing's ever made sense when it comes to my family.
And I think I'm going to get out of here, so I stand as if I'm dignified and have not been staring at him the entire time it took for me to think all of this, and brush myself down, dither briefly in which way to go next before finally deciding the opposite way would be best.

[/blockquote]

[Logan Andrews]

It gets a little bit weird when that vaguely familiar guy on the bench turns to frown confusedly in my direction instead, and I shift my weight awkwardly from one foot to the other as if I may have done something wrong.
I'm fairly sure I've done something wrong when his expression shifts to something murderous instead and very nearly take a step back.
I'm not scared obviously, because I'm sure I could dispatch of any muggle with minimum fuss, but I am a little bit confused because I'm really not sure what I have done, why he's familiar, and why he looks so angry all of a sudden because I don't really know any muggles...so...

Oh.
I think it's the scowl that does it. It twists the face into something that I recognise because I am aware of what I look like and that expression is one of mine.
In the same way that a positive expression on my face can liken me to Will, a negative expression on his can liken him to me.
That's ridiculous though, because I got rid of him years ago. Which is a very callous way to think it, but really...I needed a way out and he was going to get himself killed anyway if he kept on like he did, so I used his life to get away. It's honestly that simple.
Except apparently it's not...because he's there. Right there. Getting up and walking quite hastily in the other direction.

I stare after him for a moment with an expression best described as...incredulous, and then it's more of an involuntary reaction that I follow, hurrying to catch up.
"Hey, you."
Hm, I was going to call him by his name but I couldn't get it out. That was weird, like a verbal block that just sprung up and forced a different word out instead.

[Will Andrews]

Hey, you...no, hey you...hey you asshole...hey you get the hell away from me...
I don't know what that thought train was apart from slightly random and thoroughly nonsensical and...ugh.
I actually shudder at hearing his voice, which is very strange. I don't think I could really stand him before he went all weird and started killing and torturing people and enjoying it. I mean, even if you take away the fact that he's dangerous and unbalanced, he's still not a very pleasant person, with his selfishness and bullying tendencies and that domineering urge for complete and utter power...
Ha, I wonder why no one realised he was going to go all strange in the head.

Hell, I wonder why no one realised I was going to go all strange in the head. Maybe I would have been alright in a normal environment or maybe I still would have ended up in the nut house, but I think that my state of mind probably has a lot to do with my gene pool.
With the parents who ignored us, the older brother who manipulated us, the sister who slunk around like she was scared to be seen and only added to our feeling of power, and of course the twin who went completely...wrong.
No, I can't go there. Happy thoughts. I'm good at happy thoughts, that's what sets me apart from them. I am a happy, good individual and I made some mistakes and I did some very wrong things and I may be going to hell, but right now...here on earth...I am different and I am a good person, a happy person.

But...ah...
The part of my nature that is determined to get me killed pipes up with a lovely little suggestion.
If I made all those mistakes all that time ago - cue the unpleasant little prickle at my left arm - does it not stand to reason that other people could have made mistakes to?
My conscience gives a meaningful little nudge in the direction of my current source of turmoil.
I suppose it is entirely feasible...it has been ten years...ten years is a long time, and if no one's offed him yet...maybe...
But probably not. He's probably just gotten more dangerous and unbalanced and better at not getting caught or something.
But there is still a slither thin possibility that maybe there is a very different person walking after me and I really can't turn my back on it. I am particularly fond of second chances.

I swivel suddenly, mid-stride, to face the other way again.
In theory this seems like a good idea, but my ill-physical grace has other plans and I end up stumbling and having to throw my hands out to stop myself from falling over.
They collide with nothing, mercifully, and I manage to steady myself by keeping my hands spread out like this for a few seconds. And then I proceed to lower them back to my sides in a cautious, jerky fashion in case I decide to just randomly stumble without falling.
Then I remember what I'm doing and how I've just made a right prat of myself after the whole dramatic storming away trip.
"Hey," I reply with a small nod as if I wasn't just fleeing-then-falling.
"Ah...you."
I tried to add 'Logan' onto the end of the first sentiment, but something crawled down my throat and died so I could only force 'you' as an alternative.
Then I realise I've just repeated what he said right back to me, and have once again made a complete idiot of myself.
Nicely handled, William.

[Logan Andrews]

I take half a step back when he turns round so abruptly, just to keep an atmosphere of space. There has to be space...probably just a little bit more than the normal amount for a normal conversation, because this is not normal and he's not normal.
For some reason it's thoroughly annoying that he's just repeated back exactly what I said. Could he not give me something to reply to? Something proper?
And why am I even thinking this?
Could he not just have stayed dead?

I never really meant it. I mean...well, I did. I did try and mean it, I really did want him dead because...because he's really annoying and we've never gotten along and I'm so ashamed that we're related, and if I didn't do it someone else would have killed him.
He was that sort of friendly idiot, the death eater that deliberately does things wrong so he can get a good night's sleep knowing he didn't hurt anyone, the one that aggravated all of the people like me out there. Which there were a lot of back then.
So someone would have killed him if he kept on like he did. And if someone did kill him, then I'd have to kill them in retaliation because even if I didn't like him, I'd still have to avenge him according to the doctrane of...whatever warped family loyalty I have. So really, it was better for all concerned if I just did it myself and spent a few months hating it and then got over it.
But I was never actually going to do it. I was never really going to kill him...I just had all these back-up, contingency plans for justification if I ever did have to. And then I needed a way out and hey, there he was.
But I never really meant it.

There's actually a huge part of me that is very relieved so see him alive and well. It's tainted, naturally, with the reality that really...we haven't gotten along with any semblance of anything that might be considered affability since we were about twelve...but he's still tied to me, reluctantly, by blood.
More so than Finley and Adalia and our parents even, because technically we have the same genes. That's very unfortunate, of course.
But I wonder why I've never really examined how I felt about doing it...I think I did hate it, hate myself, for a little while afterwards...but then I really did get over it. I guess it was a little bit sharper, a painful, guilty little thorn in my side when Azkaban brought me all that clarity, but I don't think I've ever felt entirely normal about it.
And now he's alive...I don't even have to worry, do I? Or maybe I have to worry more, because actually, I've tried and failed to kill him twice now.
Those are only counting the proper attempts of course, rather than the times when we were kids and we'd try and drown each other or try and trip each other onto sharp, garden implements.

And I realise I am just standing here and staring at him like...like he's just come back from the dead...which he has.
"Ah...you're alive then," I comment rather unnecessarily, because I'm sure he knows this by now.
Unless it's just some stranger who happens to look like him, who I've happened to corner, and have just informed that they are indeed alive.
That might be a bit awkward, but I am very sure that he is who I think he is. I'm less sure about the alive part, actually, because maybe he's not somehow.

[Will Andrews]

Yeah...back away!
It was more of a half-step backwards really, and if some crazy person was throwing their arms around like I was doing just then...I'd probably back away too.
But still...there is a small blip of savage happiness that my brother - my twisted, murdering psychopath of a brother - just backed away from me.
I like it.
I also like the way he seems vaguely unsettled, uncomfortable even.

"Yeah...I'm alive," I nod, also unnecessarily.
Pointing out the obvious fills up conversation space though. If we do this, then we don't have to talk about other things. Like the whole murdering each other thing. I think we managed to completely ignore the fact that we killed our parents and burnt down the house, not to mention that he left me inside to burn with it. We managed not to talk about for three years.
So there's no need to mention this...really, is there?

Unfortunately I seem to have other ideas.
I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm a good, happy person. I swear I am, I have to be to make up for them or there's no hope at all.
So I don't know why a sudden, violent barrage of unpleasant, bitter, nasty little words choose this moment to throw themselves up my throat. I have to clamp my mouth shut to stop them, because otherwise I might start to yell.

"No thanks to you," I add with a small nod, just to make sure that he knows that I'm not going to skirt around it.
I know what he's like, him and his mind games. If I'm not careful he'll start to try and play me for control. And I don't think that I want him to get it either.
People like him always have to be in control, but no...not this time. Not today. Not with me.

"You're alive still..." I point out the obvious, shaking my head faintly with the mystification at it all. "I sort of assumed someone would have offed you by now."
That's the truth, but I probably didn't need to say it like that. So what if he wouldn't spare me the same courtesy?

Oh fuck it, I'm getting all mixed up. One minute I'm avidly proclaiming that I'm going to beat him at his own head games, the next I'm criticising myself on taking an impolite tone.
Wasn't the reason I turned round in the first place because there might have been a slim possibility that he wasn't the same anymore?
And now I'm behaving like a complete and utter asshole?
Fuck it all.

[Logan Andrews]

I can see that.
I'm getting just a little bit annoyed already, in fact. Because so far all he's done is basically repeat back everything I've said, and I really wish he'd give me something to reply to.
But then he goes on, and I actually physically flinch backwards for a brief second before I catch myself from reacting any further and remind myself that he has every right to be a bit annoyed.
It's just that wasn't a very 'will' thing to say.
Yeah, no thanks to me indeed, but I'm not going to talk about it. We ignore things like that. We always have done. So I don't know what he's playing at.
"How are you alive?" I press after a moment, gritting my teeth because it really is quite hard to go against the grain and ask him questions.

Then I pause again, because that was even more of a strange thing for Will to say. I'm fairly sure he's wished me death many times in the past, but he's never said it out loud like that, and he's never sounded quite so choked and bitter.
Oh great, I really fucked him up. All I meant to do was kill him.
"I sort of thought someone would have offed me by now, as well," I shrug, "I'm as surprised as you are."
Actually, I think I'm maybe a bit more surprised. I sort of always thought I'd die young, living a life like I did, but I just kept going and going and going, and I got to twenty-five and I was still here, and now I'm nearly thirty and I'm still here, and I'll probably still be here in another five years, and then another five years and then another...and so on.
I'm periodically surprised by this, but it actually appears I might have a normal life span. Funny how things work out like that.

[Will Andrews]

"Good question," I roll a shrug off my shoulders, "I guess you failed."
I take a very vicious pleasure in being able to say that. Yeah, it's great to be alive and all, but right now I'm much gladder about being able to tell him that he failed.
I enjoy it more than I should, actually, because I'm behaving like a twat and so far he's actually been more polite than I have and that is poor show.

I could go on and explain where I've been for the past ten years, but I don't like the idea of him knowing.
I think he'd probably find it funny. I'm sure he'd get a good laugh over the fact that I'm the one that's spent a decade in an institution and we both know he's the one that's insane.
Well, I'm not quite right either. But really, it should have been him.
I would have lived a better life over the past ten years than he did. I bet he's spent it torturing and killing and being a generally sadistic fucker, and I'd have done it better.
But I don't know that, so I shouldn't think it.

I don't think I'm such a good person either, actually.
I'm not thinking like a good person. I'm thinking like an arrogant asshole...
It's the close proximity that's all...it's just being so near to him so suddenly...it's messed me up a little. That's all it is.
I don't appreciate it though.

"Or at least locked up," I shrug again, "I thought if you weren't dead, you'd be locked up."
I didn't actually. I was fairly certain someone would have finally killed him by now, but logically, if he's alive I'd have thought that he'd be...well, in Azkaban.
I sort of hoped as well, for the sake of humanity and all.

[Logan Andrews]

I roll my eyes.
I bet he enjoyed being able to say that. Even though this new, bitter, cruel Will has replaced my brainless, upbeat, friendly brother...I'm still pretty sure I can work out what he's thinking. He's not that hard to read.
He lets everything show on his face...but that's because he is brainless, too open and honest and happy and friendly...and everything I'm not, basically.
Except, I think that I would like to be able to tell him that he'd failed as well. So that's one thing we have in common.

"Guess I must have done," I agree with a vaguely bored looking nod. "Still wasn't quite the answer I was looking for. So...what? You got lost or something?"
He looks sort of like he came to somewhere and then wandered off and got lost. It's probably feasible. I don't think I'd put it past Will to go wandering off and remain lost for ten years before he ambles back into the picture and is mildly surprised that people have noticed his absence.
It's no wonder he drives me mad.

I feel sort of nauseous all of a sudden though.
"I guess you were wrong too then," I shrug, overly forced indifference, trying too hard to be nonchalant. "Still alive, still a free man."
Technically I am a free man, I suppose...but it doesn't feel it when I'm in hiding, skulking around the muggle world to make up for the fact that I can't go anywhere wizarding and then sometimes going there anywhere. It also doesn't help that I'm fairly sure this is all a waste of time and I'm going to end up back in Azkaban anyway.

[Will Andrews]

"Yes, Logan, I got lost for ten years and have only just found my way home."
I'm so preoccupied in being sarcastic that the mental block about his name crumbles and I manage to get it out.
It does, however, serve the purpose of making this feel a lot more genuine. As in yes, this really is Logan I'm talking to.
Shit.

I also have to wonder if he really thinks I'm that stupid.
I realise I can be a bit scatterbrained at times and that I don't know something about everything, and sometimes it appears that I might not know anything at all, but I'm not really stupid. I'm just a bit dim, and that's largely by choice.
Who can blame me for not wanting to take it everything when I was surrounded by nasty, poisonous people and their nasty, poisonous opinions?
But still...I'm not foolish enough that I would get lost for a decade and have only just come home. It also appears that he's forgotten, but I had a pretty good life at the time I disappeared and I wouldn't have left it voluntarily.

"Unfortunate," I reply in a low murmur.
Maybe Azkaban would have done him some good, straightened him out and all. Of course, if it was up to me and I had the power to release him, I'd let him go the second he seemed sane, and then he'd kill someone or something. Can't trust him, so he'd have to stay in a cell even if he did go normal, and then it wouldn't be fair because it can't be fair to be sane and in Azkaban at the same time.
Maybe it wouldn't have done him any good at all...he'd probably be better off dead.
I just know that it's probably not better for anyone concerned that he's alive and free.

"So how's Addie and Fin?" I ask, tilting my head back slightly to jerk myself out of the thoughtfully, depressing reverie.
I don't want to talk to him particularly, but I do want to know how people are and I can ask him certain questions. Really, he's entitled to give me an answer probably.
There are some people I can't ask after where Logan's concerned of course, half-because I'm afraid of the answer and half-because he'd probably lie. I can't ask after Chris, for instance, because I'm afraid Logan's probably killed him by now. I don't dare ask after Morgan, either, because I'm worried he might have killed her too or he'll give me an answer that isn't true just to see my reaction or maybe he's forgotten to go after her entirely and I don't want to risk reminding him.
But probably...after I disappeared, he had no reason to even be aware of her, he probably left her alone, so he wouldn't know anyway. But I don't want to tempt fate.
I think it's fairly safe to ask after our brother and sister though. That should be fine.

[Logan Andrews]

"And you also didn't answer the question, William," I reply.
Now he's said my name, I think I've got over my mental block on his and I can say it. Great. That doesn't really help me.
I think I've come to terms with the fact that he genuinely is here...and I don't even care how anymore because it's honestly a load of my mind and I'm very relieved that he's actually alive.
I never want to see him again, of course, but it's good that he's still here.
I'm a little bit annoyed that I did fail with that, of course, but I had a fairly high rate of failure around that time. The whole late adolescence bit where everything went a bit uncertain for a while, before I got back into the swing of it properly in my early twenties.

I'm also going to ignore him there. Yes, I'm sure he thinks it's very unfortunate that I'm not in Azkaban, which is why I'm sure if I told him I'd already been there I'm sure he'd turn me in without much hesitation.
I also think he's one of the few people who if they turned me in, I wouldn't turn round and immediately turn him in, in return. I don't think they'd pay much attention to the fact that he was never that bad, as long as they saw the mark.
I don't think I would though. I've already done enough to him, he can go find himself a life now. I don't care enough to be malicious anymore now.

"Addie's fine, last I saw," I shrug.
Of course he'd ask, of course he'd care. Even about Finley.
Because he's the sort of idiot with that unconditional familial affection....well, apart from when it comes to me, because I think attempted murder negates the whole thing. So maybe it's not quite unconditional after all.
"She has a couple of kids," I elaborate vaguely, shrugging again so he doesn't have to ask further because I don't want to talk about Adalia because I don't know where she is. I hope he doesn't ask more either, because I don't know what their names are or how old they are or anything.

"Fin's dead."
This seems a bit abrupt, as well, after the lovely trivial little news about our sister. I don't know though...it's a little hard to get that out. I actually grieved when Fin died, admittedly not like a normal person does, but I felt grief all the same. It seemed natural to name my son after him, didn't it?
But I always liked Fin, more than I ever liked Will. I respected Fin, but I can't respect Will. I guess, left to our own devices though, Fin and I would have probably killed each other too.

[Will Andrews]

"Maybe it's none of your business," I mutter, although the effect of this is somewhat lost because I do lower my voice significantly and accompany it with shuffling my feet slightly.
It's very hard to talk back to Logan. I also wish that he wouldn't call me William. I don't care if it's my name, it's overly formal and I am not so my name is Will...being called William makes it harder to talk back because it's like being scolded.
I'm fairly sure that's one of the reasons he does it. Another reason might be that he's aggravating. Another that he likes all that formality jazz because he's so up himself.

"Good," I say firmly next though. Firmly to show I'm not going to give him an answer, while also to affirm that this really is good. I nod enthusiastically at the same time, so all in all I probably look a bit deficient but I don't care one bit.
It is good that Addie is fine. I sort of assumed that she would be dead as well, but she wouldn't deserve that of course. I really thought that because people like Addie are people who give in too easily...and every time I've wondered about what became her I seem to just think of her as if she's not alive anymore, as if she cracked under the strain. It's very good to hear that she's alright.

"W-what?" I actually splutter at that, and I imagine I look quite mortified for a second or two, "Fin's dead? How?"
It's very strange...really, Finley and Logan were nearly the same person except Finley was older and tended to be lazier, but it was a lot easier to hate Logan. I guess I never really wanted to hate my big brother but had no such reservations against hating my twin.
It's probably a factor that I spent more time with Logan than I did with Finley.
Nor do I really want to think of him as dead. It, again, is probably best for all concerned if he is...but still...I don't think I could wish death on Logan completely, let alone Finley...I don't know. It's all a bit messed up anyway.
"You didn't kill him did you?" The thought hits me like a ton of bricks and I feel quite sick. He probably did...I wouldn't put it past him.

[Logan Andrews]

I raise an eyebrow sharply at that, but don't comment because I think it's humiliating enough for him to look and sound like that so he doesn't need me to make it worse.
I also don't want to feel any more like I'm reprimanding him. I guess it's always been a bit like that, because I'm technically older and of course, have always made that into a thing to grant me superiority, but it's also meant there've been times when I've exercised this older mentality.
Of course, it was on my advice that he got that mark on his arm anyway...which was quite bad advice really. And that's the sort of thing I've told him to do since we were kids, and he usually does it. But in the same breath, there's also been times when he's stopped me from going too far. So I suppose it's interchangable, but mostly I'm the one who's always been in control. That's vaguely pathetic on both of our parts.
I decide I don't want to know anyway. I don't think I'm actually going to force him to give me an answer. I'm sure I'll find out at some point where he's been.

I shrug in response to that, because I'm sure it is good, wonderful even, but I really don't care about Adalia that much.
She was just part of the furniture when we were growing up, and even though we lived in the same space for several years, she was still nothing more than part of the furniture there too. Except I guess she came in handy for minding Finley a lot of the time...and also those times before her kids learnt not to talk to me where she would quickly distract them and lure them away.
So I suppose she's not all that bad...but it's hard to feel affection for someone I barely know. I suppose Will knows her better, he always has.

I'm slightly surprised he's taken that as badly as he did.
I mean he could have taken it worse, but I expected him to be largely unfazed. He's been dead for a long time...but ah, I guess, Will's only just found out. He's not used to it. I guess he thought Finley was still alive after all this time.
And I'm also annoyed at that too, so I snap immediately, "Of course I didn't kill him."
I wouldn't...no, I would...but I didn't and I don't like being accused of things that I didn't do. Well, actually, sometimes it can be amusing. But I don't like being accused of doing things that I find upsetting or annoying, and Finley's death was a hearty mix of both of those and it wasn't me who did it.
"Someone else did. I don't know who."
If I did know who, I would...I don't know, but they'd pay for it. It was probably Order idiots, and most of them probably got killed too, so whoever did it probably isn't even alive anymore.

[Will Andrews]

Wonderfully helpful as always... I decide idly when he barely replies at all.
I've wondered about that, actually. He's not very verbose at all, unless he's torturing someone and then he doesn't shut up because he likes to talk to people who are going to be dead soon because he's strange and sick. But the point is, he's not very verbose and I ramble too much...
Does that mean anything maybe? Like I got the talkative nature and he got the quiet one...
Like he got the compulsive need to inflict pain and I like to heal it all away again?
Like he's a liar and I'm honest? Like he's fairly quick and I'm a little bit slow? Like he remembers and I forget?
I don't know. Maybe if you put us together we would have one whole functioning personality, but separately we're just have two halves and that's why both of us went wrong in the head.

"D'you know where I could find her?" I prompt when he just shrugs.
I'd much rather talk to Addie than Logan. I'm fairly sure she'd be glad to see me at least. I'm sure she'd help me out, and I'm sure she'd tell me what happened to anyone if I asked and I don't think she'd lie to me.
Addie's my friend, my sister, and I love her. Logan may be my brother but he's not my friend and I definitely do not love him.
There's also no guarantee he'd tell me the truth here. He could tell me somewhere random, just for the hell of it, or maybe he has an agenda and might try and off me on the quiet or something. I don't even know why I asked, because there's no point trusting him to tell me, but it's either that or find her on my own and I have no idea where to start.

Huh.
So I think I hit a nerve there, because that's the first time he's snapped at me so far. I'm impressed, I thought he'd have been more irritable and sooner than this.
Would it be weird to be glad?
Not about Fin, I mean, cos that's just sort of sad.
I'm just glad I got a reaction, and I'm sort of wondering how I could make it worse, if I could make him really lose it because I'm fairly sure that'd be satisfying.
But also I don't like the way he sounded so indignant when I accused him. So of course he didn't kill Finley but he spared no sleep over disposing of me?
Gee, thanks.
"Did you try to kill him?" I ask, tilting my head curiously.
That was mostly to annoy him, but also out of curiosity. If he tried to kill me...uh, more than once...what's to say he didn't try the same thing with Fin?

[Logan Andrews]

"No..." I say slowly, then shrug again to make it clear, "No idea."
She disappeared ages ago, back when I was still locked up, and I couldn't find her when I got out. It was probably this that sort of forced my hand when it came to hiding places and is the reason I ended up on Arden's doorstep instead. Mind, that didn't work out so badly.
That, however, still doesn't change the fact that I don't know where Adalia is. I'd quite like to, to ask her what the hell she was playing at just running off like that with no warning, and also to find out if she has my son, or if not if she knows where I might find him.

"No, I didn't try and kill him."
I'm torn between the desire to sigh and to snap at him again because he doesn't know anything and should just shut the hell up.
I half wish he'd just stayed dead, but that's very fleeting and I am still glad that he's not for the most part, because that means less guilt for me, which I'm not going to complain about.
"Don't talk about things you don't understand."
To make up for the first remark which sounded more exasperated than anything, I have to snap the second at him. Just so we're clear that I'm not pleased.

[Will Andrews]

Helpful.
I let it go with a brief shrug. Of course he doesn't know, of course he doesn't care. Why on earth would he?
I'll find her on my own, so I don't need his help. And I'll find Row and Chris and everyone else too, on my own, without his contribution and probably without his approval.
That'll teach him.
No, he probably won't care about that either, but I don't care whether he cares or not.
I'm getting a bit muddled up again so I stop and shake my head to clear it before I can even focus on what he's said.

But it's only then that I realise shaking my head maybe wasn't a good idea because it could be perceived as disagreement.
I hope he didn't notice or anything, and if he did I hope he doesn't think that I was shaking my head at what he said.
I think I actually believe him that he didn't try and kill Fin, so I'm not trying to disagree, really.
Whoops.

I think I'm going to go out of my way to annoy him now, because that was a very irritating thing of him to say.
"Don't talk about things I don't understand?" I repeat, shaking my head with something quite like disgust in my voice. "Oh, I understand. You're not nearly as omniscient as you think you are and I'm not nearly as thick as you think I am. And I'm not-...I'm not worthless either, so it wasn't okay for you to just-...just do what you did, so stop acting like it didn't happen and stop playing the whole...calm and sane card, because we both know you're neither of those things, and don't tell me that I don't understand because I do. So..."
Ah, can't think of a concluding statement. Damnit. That pretty much ruined that lovely little speech.
"Fuck you." I settle on after a very brief pause.
It wasn't quite the closing statement that I was aiming for, but it will have to do.

[Logan Andrews]

I frown faintly, shaking my head at that.
I don't really want to reply either, to any of that, none of it.
I've long since realised that I don't know as much as I thought I did about anything, which lead to questioning whether or not I knew anything at all. It was part of that horrible clarity and all the self-discovery that sanity brought me.
Accompanying realisations like 'everything I've ever worked towards is meaningless', 'i have no purpose' and 'i have no reason to live but am far too way of what might be waiting for me on the otherside to do anything about it'.
So yes, I already know all that. I already worked it all out when I became sane.
Thank you for reminding me William.
And he's wrong as well. I'm not 'playing the calm and sane card'. There's no way of explaining to him that I'm not quite the same anymore, because then I'd have to explain about Azkaban to even make that believable and I'm not explaining about Azkaban.

And also I didn't think he was worthless...
No, actually, I really did. I've always thought that, because he is...he can't do anything right, or at least he can't do any of the things right that I think count as worthy. And he acts like a complete idiot all of the time, and he associates with all sorts of people. So really...yes, I did think he was worthless and was ashamed of him.
I still think he's worthless and I'm still ashamed of him...but that doesn't mean I'm going to kill him for it.
I didn't kill him because of that either. Just because I needed a way out. That was it really. And I'm sorry about it.

I don't say this, just shake my head again and wish I hadn't hit a trigger that would make him rant.
I don't even know how that happened...except that we'd probably been civil for far too long. We can't manage civil, I suppose.

[Will Andrews]

For fuck's sake!
I'm not very good at being angry...I tend to sulk instead, or just not get angry at all.
But that's ridiculous. I tried really hard to put together a sensible, honest little outburst, and all he can do is frown a bit and shake his head and still be so...calm and put together and I hate it, because before he would have lost his temper ages ago and hexed me or something and I don't understand.
But I don't think I want to understand. No, not anymore.
I'm done.

So I tell him this.
"I'm done."
I don't want to ever see him again. I hate the way it makes me feel to see him. I hate not being able to hate him properly because of stupid family loyalty...because every time I try, one of those rare harmonious moments will pop into my head and I'll think that well, he wasn't that bad all the time, and the hatred will dissolve. I hate feeling worthless to, which I do whenever he's around, because he looks at me like I am, worthless and embarrassing when I'm the one who should be ashamed of him and not the other way around.
I walk forward a few paces, straight past him, but I make sure to clip my shoulder very hard against is in the process.
Yeah, fuck you.
It feels very relieving when I have got past him though and I keep walking, fairly quickly, away. I suppose I don't have to see him again, unless we run into each other again.
I like that.