Another Time - 20. Matthew

The extremely pleasant dream about Alice burst like a soap bubble when the phone started ringing. With an unwilling groan, he rolled around and groped for the thing before finally opening one eye. "Yeah?" The sound was little more than a harsh exhale.

"Matthew, are you awake?"

"No." Damn, he really wasn't. He squinted at the display. "Carolyn... what's wrong?" It was New Year's morning, dammit, and fucking early to boot. With his free hand, he rubbed his eyes.

"I need you here."

His response was immediate. "What happened?" He thought of Alice, and he was awake.

"Two of my boys took a car and disappeared," Carolyn replied, sounding like she was boiling with anger.

"And what am I supposed to do now?" So much for being awake. He blinked at the ceiling and felt the urge to curl up, ignore Carolyn, and go back to sleep.

"Come here and punish them, of course. They're not back yet, so you have time to wake up."

How kind, he thought sarcastically, then frowned. Two slaves had scrammed and she was sure they'd just come back? Sure, GPS collar and all, but... urgh, he was too hungover for that shit.

"Yeah..." he said for convenience, and after she gave a sort of disapproving snort, she hung up.

Great Mother, what a way to start the new year.

He dropped the phone back on the nightstand, sat up and rubbed his face, then glanced at the time. Great, really. He'd apparently completely missed his alarm clock, and Pa hadn't come to wake him up so they could go to the morning New Year's Mass, either. Well, maybe it was better that way. He had a hangover and his old man had probably screwed the slaves till exhaustion.

With an unwilling sigh, he got up and stretched until it cracked several times, then trudged to the bathroom.

The scratch of the symbolic bare heart itched while he went down to the basement to fetch the whip from the office. Uncle Robert was lying on the couch in the lounge, snoring, otherwise the house was still silent. Admittedly, the house was almost always quiet, but this sleeping silence was different and, for him at that moment, strangely depressing. Which was probably mostly because he was now starting his new job as the community's whip master.

With a sigh, he fastened the holder for the whip to a belt loop and stroked the leather. He would have to ask Pa or Uncle Robert how to properly maintain the wretched thing. At the thought of having to wash blood off of it later, his hungover stomach churned, encouraging him in his decision to skip breakfast.

The sight of the half-empty whiskey bottle and the equally half-empty cigarette pack made him feel a little ashamed when he finally stepped out onto the front patio. While the others had watched the fireworks, he had sat here alone, toasting to Tom in his mind and imagining what his party would have looked like if he hadn't been a slave living next door.

Great, was the answer. With whiskey- his fingertips brushed over the bottle- loud music and way too much bare skin for a cold night like this. But the thought was moot, for already the big-pictured party of ten years ago had remained nothing but fantasy.

He swallowed hard and pocketed the cigarettes. The second dreary train of thought, namely that he would have loved to hold Alice in his arms and look up at the illuminated sky with her, was something he could- and would- change with regard to next year's end. He had promised. To Sarah and to himself.

When he entered the Mitchell home and nodded in greeting to Carolyn, he was unpleasantly surprised. Not only did she look tired and angry, but she looked quite old. "Happy New Year."

"You still sound like cigarettes and cheap bourbon," she returned, eyeing him critically.

Blushing, he cleared his throat. "The last night of the year tastes even more bitter without them."

To this she grunted very un-ladylike and shook her head weakly. "It would taste sweeter if you had a wife to go to bed with."

He blushed even harder, but before he could say anything to that, he heard footsteps and Carolyn gave a growl:

"Henry!"

"Yes, miss?" The chubby boy looked spooked and paled a good bit more when he saw the whip at Matthew's belt.

"Get Alice over here."

"Yes, miss." He hurried away and she grunted again.

"My new year really could have started out nicer. I certainly hope you plan to brighten it up with a not-so-surprising surprise soon?"

"Um..." What was he supposed to say to that? That, as bullshit as it sounded, he had a list of things to work off now at the beginning of the year before he could talk to Alice? It probably didn't matter what he would say about it, but the disappointment briefly flitting across Carolyn's face hurt. Sometimes it was easy to forget that she and his ma had been best friends. He lowered his eyes and felt like a silly little boy.

Before the moment could get really awkward, though, the front door opened and two slaves entered. One of them was Tom.

And Tom looked bad. His eyes were red and puffy, his lower lip bloody, and at the sight of his mistress and Matthew, his shoulders slumped, guilt written all over his face.

What have you done, Matthew asked in his mind, unsettled by the unexpected sight.

"You two are nothing but trouble!" Carolyn said loudly and clearly pissed off.

Not for the first time, Matthew wholeheartedly regretted rejecting Tom back then. It hurt incredibly to see him like that.

"I'm sorry, Mistress." Tom said quietly and with his head hanging, meek, lost, broken.

Matthew swallowed hard, his hand gliding to the whip on his belt. Great Mother, he couldn't do this.