This Town is Big Enough...

Arthur had dosed off, only to be startled awake by the pounding at the door. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, trying to be as awake as he could. Or at least enough so he knew what he was saying and what others were saying and doing. The knocking kept pounding, almost becoming more of a bang, causing Arthur to groan. He eased himself out of the chair, knowing storming over would bother his side too much, and made his way over to the door as quickly as he felt he should go. He tore open the door, almost being hit in the face from the impatient knockers would had pushed themselves up against the door and were surprised when it was open. Arthur knew he had a hard, cold, unforgiving look to his face when he opened the door, and he didn’t need the town’s people’s backing away to remind him of it. Of course the moment they registered the door was open the complains come piling in. Arthur heard chatter more than anything, maybe one or two things here and there about how this and that happened. He slammed the door, hearing the crowd at the door quiet at the sudden action. The Briton opened the door before they could start knocking again. Again the volume of complaints grew again.

Eventually the crowd got the idea that he was going to keep slamming the door in their faces if they kept talking over each other. It took about two minutes of opening and closing the door, however. Arthur glanced and them emotionlessly. The sort of started back at him. “Your bloody problems and complaints will be dealt with later.” Arthur said firmly before going to close the door.

A plush man stopped him from closing it, causes Arthur’s green eyes to glare harshly at the man. “Where is Sheriff Jones?”

“Asleep.” Arthur said sharply. “Any more questions?” The crowd glanced at each other for a bit. “Now, if you don’t have something overly urgent…leave.” Arthur said pointing quickly away from Alfred’s small house. The people looked at each other before turning and leaving the house, obviously deciding they did not want to test the angry Briton before them.

Arthur went to close the door again once a good about of people had given up trying to get someone to deal with the problems. However this time he was stopped and the door was shoved back harshly, causing Arthur to stumble back as someone entered the house. Arthur whipped his head to glare wildly at the person with no manners, only to find his eyes glaring at an older, more experienced sheriff. Arthur’s eyes hardened more when the man looked at him.

“I believe I have an urgent matter,” He said his hand resting on his gun, like Arthur might try something.

“It can wait.” Arthur said, because if it was a scolding it could, in fact if it was anything aside from someone dying it could probably wait.

The older sheriff shook his head, “I don’t think it can, Kirkland.” He said coldly, a tone Arthur was very use to hearing when people found out he was a criminal.

“Don’t even think of trying anything with me.” Arthur warned, he could feel his hold on his temper slipping. He would lose it if the man insisted on talking with Alfred or him.

The sheriff raised an eyebrow. “I’ll give you an option then.” He said his voice still cold. “No, you can go wake up Sheriff Jones for me, and delay being locked away, or you can refuse and leave me no choice but to apprehend you and wake Sheriff Jones myself.”

Arthur snapped, every bit of composer and concern about waking Alfred was out the window. Arthur was going to open his mouth and hell was going to be let loss. “I think you’re a bit fuzzy on what’s happened the past few days. First of all, that wanker of a sheriff, who probably wrote you with some sob story about how Alfred was off his rocker or whatever, had as dealing with a fake train heist. He was bloody paid off so Alfred would specifically be on that train. Which makes me wonder if you’re bloody paid off too?” Arthur snapped harshly, taking a step closer to the sheriff, who was about to open his mouth. “Shut it! Second of all, I was bloody shot,” Arthur gestured to his side. “The bloody bullet would have taken a very good man away, a really good man, if I wasn’t there. Third, obviously having your partner shot is stressful as hell. Fourth, we were chased by Ivan Braginski,” Arthur saw the man pale a bit at the name, he jumped on it, “oh, you’ve heard of him. That blood fantastic! Fifth, our sleeping patterns have been thrown to the bloody dogs!

“Now if you would so kindly leave, I’m sure Alfred will come get you when he can!” Arthur shouted pointing at the door, panting slightly from his rant. He wondered how many people had stopped and listened to what they could.

The sheriff gave him a hard look. Arthur half expected him to grab him and tie him up and leave to wake Alfred. However the man turned and left, in a somewhat shocked way, closing the door behind him. Arthur made his way back to the table and sat down, felling as if he could fall asleep. There was a reawakened fear of going to jail, this time not because his freedom would be gone, but he would be away from Alfred.

It was midday by the time Alfred awoke. At first, he was confused by his surrounding's (the past few days had left him disoriented that even his own bedroom seemed strange to him), but soon the memories came flooding back to him. Ah yes, he was home again. He smiled happily and stretched out against the bed. "Mmm..." He moaned softly, cracking a couple joints in his neck. A bath was definitely in order today. He had been under far too much stress as of late not to jump on the opportunity to bathe. Especially since he doubted he would be given another opportunity to enjoy the simple luxuries again for a long, long time. Too much work to do, so little time to do it. It would be a miracle if he ever found time to sleep again.

Alfred slipped out of bed, running a hand through his mussed up hair. He didn't bother to adjust his loose pants (which were hanging somewhat precariously down his slender hips) as he stepped out into the main room. "Artie?" He said with a yawn, glancing around the the area with sleepy curiosity. Huh, no screaming townspeople, no broken furniture or dishes, no blood or bodies even - it looked like Arthu really did manage to keep everybody away while he slept. The American turned to the man sitting at the stable, shock evident on his features. "You must be a wizard! How did you do it?! I can never get those people to leave, especially after being gone for as long as I have been!" He rushed over to the smaller blond and hugged him happily from behind. An entire morning's nap without a single interruption (well, at least not one he had registered while sleeping), that was more then he could ever have asked for. "You're my hero Artie!" He exclaimed happily, leaning in to give him a gratefully peck on the lips. An entire morning undisturbed... that was a miracle all on it's own!

Alfred's growling stomach forced him to release Arthur for the time being, in favor of searching through his cabinets for food. To his delight, somebody had thought to restock his food supply while he was away. "Oh thank God for for Mrs. Hudson!" He said, gleefully taking down a loaf of fresh bread, vegetables, strips of lean meat, and a block of cheese. He set everything out on the counter and pulled out a knife, expertly cutting up the bread as he spoke, "You up for some food Artie? It don't know about you, but I am starving! Look, she even brought over vegetables! You like those right? I don't really, but I'm glad I have something here for you!"

He chatted happily as he bounced around the small room, preparing the simple meal with practiced skill. He even set about preparing a bit of coffee for himself (making a mental note to collect some tea for Arthur at a later date). When everything was ready, he handed Arthur a full plate and a cup of cool water, before sitting down himself. "Here you are Artie. Dig in." Alfred followed his own advice and happily set about devouring the food at an incredible speed. His mother had worked her hardest on getting him to have at least decent table manners (claiming he could never hope to find a respectable wife if he looked like a poor slob), but when she died, he found himself falling back into bad habits. Within minutes, his meal was finished and he was leaning back against the chair, rubbing his stomach with a content expression on his face. He let out a long sigh, closing his eyes out of satisfaction. Thank the lord for long rests and good food. "Mm... that was perfect."

Arthur had been fading in and out of sleep since the other sheriff left. The idea of being taken away haunted him in his “dreams.” He was fading back in when he suddenly heard Alfred and perked up a bit for the American’s sake. Arthur knew he should tell Alfred about the other sheriff, but he was too happy and ready for the day for Arthur to have the heart to ruin it with news like that. “It’s a British thing,” he said teasing slightly. He took the praise, hug, and kiss a bit half-heartily, hoping it would come off as he was extremely tired and not depressed by the idea’s spinning in his head. He watched Alfred rejoice over the new food, and Arthur sound have been happy as well, his stomach was clearly complaining about its emptiness to him.

However when Alfred put the plate in front of him, he didn’t fell up to eating very much. He took a few bites of the sandwich and nibbled a bit at the vegetables. Only to suddenly feel sick to his stomach suddenly. He sipped at his cool water, but it did little to ease away the feeling. He knew it was a combination of everything coming down on him, and the fear that the other sheriff had so happily awakened in him. Part of Arthur wanted to bury himself in Alfred’s arms and beg him to not let anyone take him away, or just to hold him. He didn’t know if Alfred could talk this sheriff out of locking him away. He glanced at the plate before looking at Alfred for a split second.

Arthur buried his face in his arms, as he leaned onto the table. He hoped it would help his sick feelings go away, but it seemed to do every little. Perfect, that’s what Alfred had said and the word was not easing anything away either. How much longer would things be perfect? Or better yet, how much longer could Arthur allow them too before he couldn’t take it anymore? He let out a breath, he was going to have to tell Alfred eventually about the fate awaiting him.

“Alfred,” He said pausing suddenly. “The…I…did you sleep well?” He asked instead. It wasn’t right, not now at least. But when? Arthur asked himself his stomach churning to much for his liking.

Alfred was known for being completely unable to pick up on the atmosphere. Back in his days of attending school, the boys of his grade would often tease him about his dreams of becoming a hero, but he never knew. In his mind, they were simply being playful and he liked to make people laugh, so he saw nothing wrong with the way they treated him. However, Arthur's sudden change in mood was something even he could pick up on. Alfred got up from his chair and crouched down to where Arthur sat. "What's the matter?" He asked, gently trying to pull his hands away from the Brit's face. Something must have happened while he was sleeping, that was for sure. But what it was, he couldn't tell. Everything in the house seemed to be in order, so it wasn't a fight. And he kind of doubted that any insult that was thrown at him, Arthur could counter with something thirty times more nasty. Whatever it was, it certainly had the smaller man freaked.

The young sheriff smiled and pulled Arthur into a gentle, yet secure hug, rubbing comforting circles against his lower back. "Hey now. Why do you look so down? Everything's going to be alright." He placed a soft kiss against Arthur's forehead, brushing aside the choppy blond locks that rested there. Pressing the pad of his finger lightly against the Brit's chin, he angled his head up and flashed him a reassuring smile. "I'm here, remember? Nothing's going to happen. I promise." Then he sealed the deal by placing his lips over Arthur's. He didn't know what was on his mind that was causing him such distress, but whatever it was, he was confident that the two of them could overcome it. They were safe in his town. Braginski should still be recovering from the gunshot wound Arthur gave him. And the sheriff he had shot shouldn't be in any commission to hurt them. "Come on now, what is it? I bet we can..."

A knock on the door interrupted him. Alfred sighed as he pulled away. Oh well, he had been expecting this anyway, but the timing couldn't have been worse. "Just a moment!" He called, throwing on a shirt and trying to tame his messy hair. When he deemed himself mostly presentable, he pulled open the door. Three men he had never seen before stood there, the smaller one in the middle wearing a familiar star pinned proudly on his chest. Alfred straightened up, giving each of the men an hardened look. "Yes, can I help you gentlemen?" The sheriff made no move to speak at first, focusing on unfolding the document he held in his hands.

"Alfred F. Jones?" He asked, looking the young man over with a critical eye. Alfred frowned, but nodded his head. With this confirmation, the sheriff continued, now reading from the document before him. "You are under arrest for harboring a fugitive, assisting in a large scale train-heist, shooting a fellow officer..."

"What?!" One of the large men grabbed his arms, forcing him out of the house. Once he unblocked the doorway, the other man stepped inside to collect Arthur. Alfred growled angrily, shoving the first man away. "Get off of me! Arthur!" He turned to run back in the house when he was once again grabbed from behind. The man grabbed his arm and tried to force it behind his back, snapping an iron handcuff on one of his wrists. Alfred wrestled his other hand out of his grip, managing to get in a good punch before the man threw into the ground. The two men scrambled around, one trying desperately to get away while the other worked just to get the other hand restrained. A crowd of townspeople watched from a distance, none of them stepping forward to defend the man who had protected them for months. "Let me go! I'm innocent!" The sound of a gun being cocked next to his ear caused Alfred to freeze. The sheriff stood over him with a hard look in his eyes, a revolver pointed down at his temple.

"Step down Jones," He warned. Alfred stilled, allowing the man enough time to snap his other wrist into the handcuffs. He was forced onto his feet and shoved towards the jail - his jail, head pushed down towards the ground. He couldn't see whether they had gotten Arthur. All he could comprehend were the loud murmuring's of the townspeople and the way they parted for him as he walked by. When they arrived, he was shoved into a single cell in the far end of the hall, away from any windows or sunlight. He was left alone for what felt like hours, but without any light to judge by, it could have been mere minutes. He spent the first part screaming and banging on the bars, but nobody responded. Eventually he gave up and sat with his back pressed against the wall, just staring off into space. Where was Arthur? They had to have locked him up too. Where was he then? He didn't manage to escape somehow, did he?

More questions than there were answers for invaded Alfred's thoughts during his solitude, but there was little else to do in the dark space besides think, worry, and want. "Please be alright..." He whispered quietly. Footsteps sounded from across the hallway, making him tense. The sheriff who had arrested him appeared close to the opening of his cell. Alfred jumped to his feet and shook the bars, his expression fierce. "Where is Arthur? Why the hell am I here? I am innocent of everything! Arthur has turned over a new leaf and the heist wasn't really a..."

"Mr. Kirkland has been shot."

Alfred's heart dropped into his chest. "W-what?" The sheriff continued, his face hardened and eyes uncaring.

"Arthur Kirkland was shot to death for his crimes."

Alfred's hands slipped from the cell bars and he took a shaky step backwards. "Dead? He can't be..." He looked helplessly up at the sheriff before him. The man simply stared back at him. He dropped to his knees, trying to remember how to breath. "Arthur's... but... why? Why did you..." The sheriff said no more, simply turning and walking back the way he came. The sound of the door clicking shut behind him reverberated loudly within the small room, but it did not hide the sound of Alfred's heart shattering.

“I just feel a bit ill,” he said lying a bit. He was feeling a bit more than ill but he wasn’t in the mood to tell Alfred. However he was happy to be in the American’s arms. His eyes drifted close and he felt enough peace that he felt he could dose off. Still his hands gripped Alfred tightly, knowing he should tell Alfred, but he just can’t bring himself too. The knock at the door forced them to part sooner than Arthur was comfortable with. He sat up straighter to watch Alfred answer the door and slowly stood to see if he was going to have to tell someone off.

His eyes widened when it was the sheriff from early and two other men Arthur hadn’t seen before. The world seemed to stop and he was depressed perfect had ended so soon. But to his astonishment it wasn’t his name on the document, but Alfred’s. “Oi, what do you think—” Arthur was sharply cut off by a hand being shoved over his mouth. Arms wrapped around him and braced him from struggling or attempting to help Alfred somehow. Arthur didn’t fight much, he felt he should have, but he didn’t. Alfred was innocent, sure something were true but twists of a tale, still Arthur had come to accept the fact that the law would part them sooner or later, he had just been hoping for later.

A while passed and the men held him, but eventually the Sheriff came walking into the house. “I warned you.” The sheriff said with a bit of a tune in his voice.

Arthur glared sharply at him, really looking at him this time. “You’re not the sheriff,” Arthur said firmly. “A fellow sheriff would hear Alfred out, innocent until proven guilty.” Arthur said, for some reason it was part of the law he remembered. “Ivan put you u—” the arm around his neck tightened causing him to stop talking for a bit.

“You’re a smart little bastard,” The ‘sheriff’ said with a grin. “Honestly it’s kind of fun, figure I’ll lock him up, crush his soul. Without you around things will run a lot smoother.” The arm around Arthur’s neck tightened more, making him really struggle for breath. Arthur instantly struggled in the hold, his world fading away. “Arthur Kirkland, you here by face death for your crimes.” The last thing Arthur heard was a gun shot, but he didn’t know where it went.

---

“Good sir, may I ask why we stopped?” A Scottish accented asked after the sound of the carriage door opened and closed. The driver turned to the tall built man with reddish blonde hair, thick eyebrows, and a beard to match his hair. The man’s green eyes were shinning a bit, the driver didn’t know why and he didn’t ask, it was his job to simply drive.

“Nothing technical, just a duty I feel I should do.” The driver said twisting the shovel in his hands. The Scottish man raised an eyebrow, a very thick one, as if asking the man to explain. “The west is very vast, people get lost to it. Sometimes gun fights take them as well, but I feel the least I can do it bury them.” The eyebrow raised a bit more and the driver pointed to a figure a few meters away. It was clearly a man, probably a young one by height and size. They were facing face down in the dirt and the driver hadn’t seen their face.

“Need any help?” He asked, and the driver gave him a bit of grin, before the man slid out of his jacket and opened the door again. “Evan, come help.” There was a bit of a discussion about what the help was need for and then an excited voice about seeing a dead person. It was hushed by the women inside hurriedly before a blonder man got out of the carriage as well.

The driver gave them both a smile of thanks before walking over and started digging a hole. He figured the all could wish the mystery man a peaceful after life, it honestly wouldn’t hurt. Evan, as he was called, went to turn the man over, when suddenly the man started coughing, only to lean over and vomit into the shallow hole. He gripped his left side before rolling to lie on his back, eyes closed and breath heavy. The reddish-blonde haired male, Scott if the driver remembered correctly, cursed suddenly, before rushing back to the carriage.

The driver was honestly amazed, and leaned down beside the man, ordering the Evan to fetch some water. “You’re lucky to be alive, partner.”

“I have to be, there’s a sheriff and a crime lord I have to shot.” The man said with heavy breaths, before slipping away again from something the driver wasn’t sure. However the older of the two women came rushing out of the carriage, the name Arthur being carried through the air with a worried tone.

Time lost all meaning within that cell. Hours could pass within a blink of an eye while mere seconds seemed endless. Alfred no longer had any feeling in his body, his mind having shut down long ago to protect itself. He had no idea how long he had been locked away. Years could have passed by without him knowing it. His only contact to the outside world was the jailer who feed him every day, and the sheriff who occasionally came by to observe him. But Alfred was numb to any feeling. After the news of Arthur's fate, he had collapsed into himself and spent many days curled up in a ball, refusing to eat or move. They allowed a week to pass before they began the force-feedings in order to keep him alive. The experience had been so horrific, that he ate a little each day to keep from repeating it. After that, he was left completely alone.

His days were spent in darkened silence. Occasionally the sheriff would come by and have him moved to a different town or a different jail, until he lost all sense of where he was. He would be shackled, blindfolded, and shoved into a carriage, forced to stay still for hours on end until they relocated. Each jail cell felt the same though. No matter which town he was sent to, he was never placed in a regular cell. He was always sent far away from human contact, exiled away from even the sun to keep him company. Once he had asked the sheriff (who had obviously been placed to keep an eye on him until he met whatever fate was waiting for him) why this was happening. The man said nothing, only stared at him with cruel dark eyes before locking him away again.

Alfred didn't speak after that. He didn't move, didn't think, he barely even breathed. It was as if all life had been sucked from his body, leaving a dry husk of what used to be a man. He wasn't even sure if this could be considered living anymore. The moment he was told his heart had died, he felt like his world had gone grey. When he did find himself slipping off into the world of dreams, he would be met by a green-eyed angel who would whisper sweet words and hold him close as he cried. Alfred felt safe and loved within those dreams, but when he woke, he found himself alone and his world would darken again.

The next time the sheriff visited him, he could tell something had changed by the look of glee within the other man's dark eyes. He unlocked the cell with ease and stepped inside (no longer concerned that Alfred would try and run). "Up Jones. We're moving again." Alfred stayed seated on the floor, staring down at the grime beneath him. The man kicked his side, but waved somebody else forward to lift him up. The American was forced to his feet, his wrists being shackled together one more. He silently wondered why they even bothered at this point. His body had grown weak from the lack of sunlight and food; even if he tried to fight back, he would easily be taken down. Still, he made no move to say so, just stumbling forward as directed. The sheriff grinned at his grimy, broken form before holding up a familiar white strip of cloth. "Congratulations Jones," He said, tying the material around Alfred's eyes to prevent him from seeing where they were going. "You have officially been broken. Lord Braginski will be seeing you now."

Had he possessed any ounce of feeling left, the Russian's name would struck him more. But any fear he might have had before had been locked away with the rest of his emotions. Honestly, he had been waiting for this to happen. Ever since he was arrested in the first place, he had known the crime lord had been pulling the strings. It was only a matter of time before he waltzed back into his life. Of course, it made sense now that he would have waited until he was completely broken to make an appearance. Hell, he had probably planned this all along.

Alfred was shoved into a carriage the door closing behind with a resounding click. This was it, the last move before he met his fate. The sheriff took the seat beside him, prodding him with his gun as a warning - just like always. "Be grateful Jones. You're getting out of prison." The man chuckled loudly as the carriage started moving. Alfred said nothing, resigning himself to face whatever was about to come. The sheriff was wrong however - he was simply being transferred to another type of jail. The bars may no longer be tangible, but that made them no less impossible to escape from.

Arthur was completely unaware of his family presence for a good week. He was too in and out of consciousness, and when he was awake it was blinded by high fever. His mother refused to leave his side when his fever was high, and she had the poor doctor come every day. His brothers desperately tried to get him to tell them what happened , but the Englishman would get over sensitive in his high fever and break down, that or he spoke straight none sense (more than when he was drunk). They feed him and made him drink when they could, his mother cursing his state of being and vowing she would tell his father what had become of him.

When he came to, there was a Scottish woman (he picked up her accent from her singing) he didn’t known and he started at her as she fixed some things in the room. He sat up with ease, a blinked. His surroundings still said America but the woman wasn’t fitting in. His right hand wandered to his side, before he lifted his shirt and found no bandages but a very newly healed wound. It placed him in American and a good amount of time had passed since…he couldn’t bring himself to think about it at all. Eventually his family came in and he stared at them, wide eyed. It was then that he answered, reasonably, all of their questions. His mother held him tightly, and eventually he just sobbed for no really reason, but his mother just shushed him and was overly gentle. The doctor come by that night as well and sentenced him to a good day of rest before his went off to do whatever.

Arthur didn’t exactly do as he was told. He was moving about the next day despite his mother’s pleas, his brothers didn’t get the way, they saw the look in Arthur’s eye. Evan followed him around through, at the request and fear of their mother. Arthur wasn’t exactly well received when he came bursting into the town’s jail demanding to see the sheriff, especially when they all thought he was dead. Arthur however laid everything out as simply as he could (without exposing too much of the private life) and he got some cooperation. A lot of things were fitting together with his story, like a Sheriff who went a few weeks before everything happened, vanished after foiling something huge underground criminal scheme. The sheriff had been replaced soon afterwards and everything moved one.

In the days that followed Arthur gathered what information he could by messengers he sent out to random cities, trying to find a direction and a place. He did and he had a feeling he was going to be needing is families assistance.

“Arthur you get yourself awfully tangled up when you don’t mean too,” Scott teased lightly when Arthur asked, however his grin said he was up for it. Everyone agreed, except for when it came to the plan, his mother and Scott’s wife, Amelia, were against it. But they went with it and Arthur couldn’t have been happier at that moment (honestly he could have, but based on his previous emotions he was rather ecstatic).

The next morning they set out, Arthur climbing up on the carriage to drive. His clothes were a bit large but helped disguise him enough. His had sat low hiding his face, but he looked up at the sky. Let me find you, Alfred, and let him find you unharmed. He thought, staring at the clouds remembering the sky when it was stars. He heard Scott tap the wall of the carriage and with a whip of the long reigns they were off.

Alfred was lost within muted silence. He sat facing the door, both hands chained up behind his back and legs strapped together to keep him from trying to stand. In order to ensure his silence, a wad of cloth had been shoved into his mouth and a strip tied around his lips to keep him from spitting it out. A rather pointless gesture in his opinion, seeing as he had no will to speak in the first place, but he understood to some extent. Before they could complete their journey, by some stroke of luck, their carriage had lost a wheel, preventing them from traveling any more that night. The sheriff had been mildly irritated by the change of events, but had acted accordingly nonetheless. He had one of the men take the blindfolded Alfred into the nearby town, stationing him inside of an inn to keep their cover.

Alfred had been forced to sit restrained for the rest of the night and into the morning while the other men worked on repairing the carriage. Despite being numb to the world, it was still a strange experience to be inside of a room rather than the jail cells he had occupied over the last few months. He found himself looking over the woodwork of the coffee tables, bed frames, and door, unable to get over how foreign it all looked. His hands itched to reach out and touch something, just to be sure it was real. If he hadn't been restrained, he might have let himself believe this his room and Arthur was going to come bursting through the door any moment... But his hands remained bound and Arthur never came in.

Later in the afternoon (he could tell by the clock sitting on the table), the sheriff walked in. Light streamed into the room from the opened door, irritating Alfred's sensitive eyes, but he welcomed it's short lived presence before the door was closed again. The man crouched down to his level, pulling his chin up so he was forced to look up at his unfeeling eyes. "Good news Jones, we'll be able to continue tonight." He paused, as if expecting Alfred to acknowledge this information in some way. When nothing of the sort came, he continued. "You'll be out of these chains and in Lord Braginski's care by morning. I'm sure you will be in good hands." He grinned and slapped his cheek lightly before standing up once more. Walking over to the door, he opened it and casually glanced back at him. "Enjoy the rest of your evening," He said mockingly, before letting the door close behind him.

Alfred glanced at the clock on the table. A few hours at the most and than they would move out again. How many hours would it be before he faced Braginski again? How many more hours would have to endure of this prison? How many hours had it been since he had seen the sunlight? Grief flooded into his unfeeling body, clouding all rational judgement. This had been going on for far too long. His heart had died the day the shot Arthur, yet he was stuck here still the same. He couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to get out of this horrible life and see his green-eyed angel for real. Than, together, they would live out the rest of eternity side by side.

Alfred's eyes traveled around the room, searching for something, anything that could bring and end to this miserable existence. A letter opener sat innocently on the table closest to the window, barely noticeable in the dark. It wasn't much, but he was desperate. Alfred began yanking on his bindings, trying to use the last of his strength to pull them down from the wall. He let out a muffled grunt, the strain immediately taking it's toll on his worn body. No, he had to do this. He had to end this. He fell back against the wall, his whole body making a loud thump as it connected. In an instant, he was back to pulling, blue eyes trained completely on the small letter opener. After four more times of connecting painfully against the wall, a stream of tears began to trickle down his face. No, he needed to get out! He refused to sit around and be a lifeless doll any longer! He needed to be free, even if it meant death. Arthur... Alfred thought painfully, straining against the iron shackles with all his might. I'll be with you again soon.

A few days of travel, Arthur and his family eventually rolled into a rather smallish town close to the final destination, or he had figured from countless hours looking at maps and the facts and rumors he had heard from the other sheriff. He couldn’t help but grin a bit when he noticed the man who was disguised as the sheriff barking orders at some men who were fiddling with a wheel. Arthur guided the horses to pull up on the opposite side of there the men were fiddling with the wheel, he felt left plenty walking space between the two. He hopped down from the driver’s seat and adjusted his hat so it hid more of his face, but still allowed him to see. He opened the door and nodded, this was it.

Scott, Evan, Amelia, Peter and his mother piled out of the carriage, all with a sort of grim expression on their face. Arthur had told them what he wanted them to do, because the sheriff would surely have Alfred somewhere and if they guilt tripped enough they would surely annoy the man into showing him to them. Peter looked the saddest, though Arthur said he had to, it would give an excuse for a few to go in and a few to leave, however his mother had him beaten like she should, but on Peter he just looked overly sad. Arthur went to look at the horses, making it look like he was tending to them or praising them for their hard work and he was a bit.

He could hear the bit of conversation. “Excuse me, good sir,” he heard his mother said in a voice that was holding back tears. “I’m Elizabeth Kirkland; I believe you…executed my son, Arthur.” She said sucking in a sharp breath at the word executed. Her words sort of died off.

“I got this mother,” Evan said gently. “You have the man who was sheltering him yes?” Arthur heard a grunt from the man. “Please, we just want to speak with him.”

“No, he’s too dangerous,” Arthur heard and rolled his eyes, Alfred was probably the least dangerous he could ever be at that moment.

“Please,” Evan begged, “we just want to know what his final days were like. It’s just a small chat, we won’t be long.” Evan sounded a bit desperate. “Besides he left some things behind, we would like to know what so we could take it back to England.”

There was a pause. “They just want to talk, and look at the kid,” a different voice said. Arthur wondered if there was a silent argument between the two.

Peter spoke up and honestly surprised Arthur. “Sir, please, Arthur wouldn’t want me to remember him as some crook. He was a very good brother,” Arthur could almost hear the fake tears forming in Peter’s eyes, before his mother hushed him gently. There was a ground out “fine” after that.

“Mother, Amelia and I will take Peter; it will be better that way.” Arthur heard Scott say before the sound of people walking away.

There was a bit of silence, Arthur figured they were watching the three leave the group. “He’s this way, and if anyone knows I did this, I’ll be shot.” Arthur knew that was probably a lie. His family, going to find out more about his final days, would just drive the knife deeper.

“Oh, driver,” Evan called loudly, causing Arthur to perk up a bit at turn to them. “Can you please get us some rooms for the night?” Arthur nodded curtly and following after them, giving enough distance for the sheriff to think he stopped at the desk to get rooms.

He followed them up some stairs however, and watching the man open a door and allowing Evan and his mother to open through a small crack it seemed. He entered as well and Arthur stood in the blind spot of the door when he entered. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he heard the sound of footsteps coming towards the door. The “sheriff” existed with a smirk on his face. Arthur cleared his throat for the man’s attention.

“You know, they say a dead man tells to tales,” Arthur said, when the man turned to him and he tipped up his hat before he punched the man in the face, causing him to hit a table in the hallway from when he fell. Arthur grinned, taking the man’s gun, before trying to find the keys, which he found rather easily. He scooped the man up only to find him heavier than he expected. He dragged him towards the door before knocking harshly. “Evan, help me!” His hissed hoping his brother would hear as he neared.

Alfred's wrist's were raw by the time he heard the footsteps. He frantically glanced at the clock, finding that no more than an hour had passed since the sheriff had left. This was too early. Never before had they left in broad daylight, they wouldn't break the trend so close to the end! But the sound of people approaching was unmistakable. He leaned back against the wall and angled his head towards the ground. In all the months he had been in captivity, he had yet to shed a tear. In those few moments when he imagined leaving this life for a better one, a wave of tears rushed from him and he found himself unable to stop it. Damn - he hadn't wanted to give those bastard's the pleasure of seeing that. They had already taken everything else away from him.

The footsteps stopped in front of the door. Alfred inwardly flinched away and prepared himself for the last leg of the trip before he was met his fate when something surprising happened. A man and a women he had never seen before stepped into the room, followed quickly by his capture. Despite his desperate desire to end his life, Alfred couldn't help but wonder what these two people were doing there. Neither of them looked particularly threatening (in fact, their expressions showed more sympathy and outrage by his appearance than cruelty). He looked them over, his eyes catching on the man's bushy eyebrows. His heart caught in his throat and he forced himself to look away, his mind automatically drifting over to the face of a different man who had the same sort of eyebrows.

The sheriff stepped forward, working off the gag from around Alfred's mouth. He coughed a bit, his lips chapped and cracked and his mouth dry. "You have guest's Jones. Do you remember Arthur Kirkland?" Alfred dropped his gaze, refusing to let the man see the pain that name caused him. "His family came all the way down to ask you about his last days. Feel free to enlighten them." The man grinned and patted Alfred's cheek in a mocking manner, obviously enjoying the pained look that he now wore. Arthur's family - Lord what could he possibly say to these people? He had been the reason Arthur had died. If he hadn't forced him to turn his old life away, he could have one day made it back home.

The sheriff turned to leave, giving the lady (Arthur's mother) and the man (a brother, he assumed) another nod before closing the door behind him. Alfred stared up at the two, regret showing clearly within his tired blue eyes. For the first time in months, he parted his lips and allowed a single, broken phrase to pass through. "I am so sorry..." He managed to say, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. A fresh wave of tears began rolling down his cheeks as he stared up at Arthur's mother. "I'm so sorry..."

A noise outside caught the man's attention, setting forth a strange sort of events that Alfred could only half understand. All of a sudden, Mrs. Kirkland was by his side, holding his head against her chest, running her long fingers through his hair in a oddly maternal fashion. While this was going on, the man went to stand by the door, looking tense as if he was expecting something to happen. A hard knock sounded and he quickly opened up the door to let somebody else in. He was vaguely aware of the figure of the sheriff being passed off to the man by somebody else, but he was crying too heavily to make sense of what this meant. All he was aware of was the sound of his own sobs and broken apologies along with the comforting hand of Mrs. Kirkland pressed against his cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry... I am so, so sorry..."

Evan helped Arthur carry the man in, and Arthur heavily dropped the man’s top have with little care, because he could honestly care less about what he did to the man. He turned to find his mother with Alfred, gently comforting him, hushing him slightly. Arthur’s mother had always one to comfort people, even people she didn’t really know, but Alfred, though she didn’t know him well, was special to her. After all he had saved Arthur from his world of crime and made him be able to hold his high as he earned his way back to England. She was going to comfort him probably as well for the fact that he was living in a huge lie. Arthur wanted to spin around and kick the man as well, he spun around but Evan stopped him.

Arthur hurried over to his mother and Alfred, he could hear is mother saying “thank you”, giving his mother a quick and thankful smile. She returned it, before Arthur went to work on getting the binding off Alfred. “Bloody hell,” he grumbled as they were harder to get off than he thought. However he noticed the American’s wrist and he was sure as hell going to shot someone. He wasn’t going to care much. Once Alfred was all good and free he nodded to Evan.

“Come on mother, we should leave,” Evan said, coming over to help his mother up before looking at Arthur. “Hopefully Scott hasn’t started a fight yet. I honestly want to a good go at them as well.” Arthur could see his brother’s grin and that was enough for him. He knew Scott was more than ready to punch someone, after all they messed with one Kirkland, it meant they had three more to deal with. Scott might let Peter fight, no one would dare hit a child. Evan lead their mother way, opening the door before turning back and giving Alfred a small grin before leaving.

They left Arthur alone with Alfred, and for that he was glad. He was sure the American would be clingy and emotional when he found out Arthur was still alive. Arthur wiped some of the American’s tears before finding the man was sobbing too fast for his fingers wipe away. He quickly pulled Alfred into a hug. He shushed him as he pet the back of his hair before figuring enough was enough. They had to leave, Arthur had been gone too long for getting some rooms, if the men even noticed.

“Alfred,” Arthur said, pushing Alfred away a bit to look at him. “Alfred, look at me,” Arthur said pushing the American’s head so his eyes met the wonderful blue. His green eyes boring into the man before him. “Alfred, I’m here,” he said placing the American’s hand on his beating heart, “and I’m not dead.” He braced himself for what might happen.

Alfred continued to sob against the women, whispering half frantic apologizes about her dead son. How could she be comforting him? He had practically pulled the trigger himself for all the good he did Arthur. Yet she was comforting him like she was his own child. He could feel the shackles falling away behind him. It felt strange to suddenly have control over his own limbs again, after so many months of being forced to stay still. He found he no longer knew what to do with himself, so he continued to cry with his arms hanging uselessly by his sides. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

The other man began pulling the women away, saying something about needing to go. Alfred shook his head frantically, raising a hand up as if to keep her with him. But by the time he managed to control the shaking limb, she had already slipped out the door. "No wait..." She needed to say something. Why hadn't she said anything to him? She knew how sorry he was, didn't she? Why was she leaving? Alfred's body shook, now steadily becoming aware that the second man was now holding his face. He caught sight of a pair of familiar green eyes through his watery tears, sending new waves of guilt through his previously numb body.

A brother - it had to be Arthur's brother. No body else could look so much like him. Yet the feeling of his arms wrapped around his frame felt the same as it had when Arthur did it. No, it couldn't be him. How awful it was comparing Arthur's embrace with that of anybody else, even if it was a relative. Yet the young American found himself relaxing despite it all, burying his face within the familiar shoulder to let out all the tears he had been saving since Arthur's death. For a while, the man allowed this, and held him close with fingers running down his hair. Alfred closed his eyes and savored the feeling, letting it fill up the void left within his heart. His sobbing began to grow less hysterical as his body responded to the familiar pair of arms wrapped around his body.

Too soon for his liking, the man pulled away. He heard his name being called in a voice so like Arthur's that it hurt and his head being tilted up so he once again was caught in a sea of green. Without his tears clouding his vision, he saw that they were more than just similar to Arthur's eyes, they were identical. But that was impossible. Alfred stared up at the man holding him, barely even hearing the words he spoke. It wasn't until he had pressed his hand against his beating heart that everything snapped back into focus. Arthur was holding him. Arthur was there with him. He was alive.

"Arthur." He breathed, lifting up a shaking hand to touch the other man's cheek. It felt soft against his skin - warm and alive. He lifted his other hand to gently stroke the other cheek as well, as if expecting him to disappear beneath him. Nothing of the sort happened so Alfred allowed his shaking arms to drop back down to his sides. "But he told me you... you were dead. You were shot, he said you were!" Alfred shot forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Arthur's frame. He pressed himself as close as he possibly could against the Brit's chest, shoulders shaking with suppressed emotions. Beneath the skin, he could hear Arthur's heart beating strong. Fresh tears threatened to spill out over his flushed cheeks, but he restrained himself. He needed to think rationally - if that was possible after the torture he had under gone. "For months, you were gone for months. You were alive. I thought... and they did... I can't... breath..."

Alfred clung tightly onto the smaller man, trying to get control over his suddenly raging heart. Arthur was alive. Really and truly alive and he would never have to spend another day locked alone within a darkened cell. So many thoughts, emotions, and feelings ran rampant through his body, that he felt dizzy. He slowly loosed his death grip around Arthur's body, opting instead to lightly rest his head against the mans shoulder and focus on taking deep, easy breaths. "I want to go outside," He said suddenly, keeping his head resting comfortably against Arthur's thin shoulder. "I haven't seen the sun in so long Arthur. Or the stars. Will you take me outside again? I need some fresh air..."

He pulled away and tried to stand, his legs shaking terribly underneath him. Yet he managed to keep his balance and take a step towards the door on his own. Months of malnourishment and lack of proper exercise had taken its toll on the youth, leaving his body entirely too thin and skin pale. Yet he refused to give up. The door was unlocked and his hands were free - he was going outside even if it killed him. He stepped over the sheriff, barely even registering his presence. For months he tormented him, but now that Arthur was back and he was free to walk and stand as he pleased, the cruel man had all but slipped from his radar. Alfred stumbled, catching himself on the door. "Arthur," He called, turning to see where he had gone off to. "Please, will you take me outside?"

Arthur could feel tears building in his eyes as the American came to recognize him. He had missed his touch, missed his smile, missed everything there was to miss about Alfred. He felt safe an Alfred’s arms, and he wrapped his own around the man’s torso, feeling how thin he had become. “I know,” he said simply, his ran rubbing circles on the American’s back. “I tried to find you the moment I was…in my right mind.” Arthur should honestly have told him he was riddled with a horrible fever and exhaustion. He didn’t remember any of it, but his mother had told him about it. He tried to find a town the first time he walk up, but it was useless and he collapse half-way through his second day of wandering. Honestly should have told him he almost had really died both in the desert and in the bed. Arthur didn’t though, feeling it would ruin everything.

The Briton smiled in the moment. Alfred was back, sure he need a doctor and a bunch of other things but he was back and that was all that counted for Arthur at the moment. However his grip loosen and Arthur feared the worse quickly, but the man seemed to be calming down more. He chuckled a bit at the American’s words. He didn’t say anything at first, Alfred started getting up faster than he thought. Arthur quickly got to his feet, ready to help Alfred in any moment he needed it. He trailed behind him, reaching out quickly when he stumbled or Arthur felt he would topple over.

Once at the door, Arthur ducked under one of Alfred’s arms and looped an arm around Alfred’s torso. He knew he wasn’t strong enough to carry if Alfred suddenly collapse, unlike Alfred himself. But it was enough he hoped, enough to get them to the carriage and on they’re way. “I’m going to take you very far away from here.” He said before working the door open and leading the way out.

He lead the way down the stairs slowly, taking a break here or there for Alfred, and praying the man didn’t give on him on the stairs because he would go down as well. Once they reached the bass of the stairs Arthur strained his ears to hear anything. The man’s companions or even his brothers. He took him half way through the lobby to hear Scotts laugh that usually sounded when he got a good hit on someone.

Arthur somewhat felt bad for the poor sheriff of the town, a fight with a Kirkland was not easy to break up, two was nearly impossible, three it was best to just let it run its course, and all four of them it was just best to leave. Still the fight allowed them to slip by to the carriage unnoticed. Amelia and his mother where there with Peter who had a pout of his face. Arthur helped Alfred in and ushered the two women in as well. The fight was done when the sheriff managed to get to them to stop, and Scott and Evan were disheveled, and agreed to leave when they saw Arthur climb up. They climbed in as well, and Arthur whipped the reins and he didn’t stop till it was dark.

Arthur's arm looped around his torso, keeping him as well supported as they slowly walked out of the inn. Despite his obvious weakness and unsteadiness, Alfred felt better than he had in months to be walking under his own power. When the reached the bottom of the stairs, his heard began pounding. Light was pouring in from the windows, and he began to blink rapidly to try and adjust to the sudden change. Months of darkness and to suddenly be surrounded by light was disorienting. Still, Alfred pressed on, eager to see the outside world again.

The moment they stepped outside, Alfred was blinded by the sun. He faltered slightly and leaned more heavily on Arthur, especially when he heard the distinct sounds of a fight occurring. He tensed, half afraid that somebody was going to lock him away again. Nothing of the sort happened. Arthur simply pulled him in another direction, helping him up into a carriage. He was vaguely aware of the rest of the Kirkland family piling into the stagecoach after him while Arthur himself climbed up on top to drive. Alfred frowned slightly, leaning his forehead against the small window. The selfish part of him wanted Arthur to still be holding him, but when he felt the carriage lurch forward into motion, he closed his eyes instead. Arthur was alive and that was enough for him. Months of having a dead heart had nearly killed him, but seeing those beautiful green eyes had restored the fire within his soul. He had lived to see the end of the nightmare.

Alfred closed his eyes and curled his tired body into a ball on the seat. Slowly, he allowed his frantic mind to relax. He was free, Arthur was alive, everything was okay. He repeated those three phrases within his mind, shutting out everything else as he did so. Somewhere in front of him, he heard Mrs. Kirkland telling the boys to settle down, shushing them lightly when they got too rowdy. It hardly made any difference though - Alfred's exhausted body was shutting down. The last thing he remembered feeling before slipping away into blissful unconsciousness was somebody running their fingers through his hair, silently telling him that everything was going to be alright.

* * *

Soft sheets and clean air were the first things he became aware of when he drifted back into the world of the living. Alfred let out a sleepy moan and stretched out, simply enjoying the sensation of being in a bed again before opening his eyes. He was in a small but clean room, completely unfamiliar, yet not unwelcome. For some reason, he knew he was safe, despite being alone within the room. Slowly, he sat up and looked down at himself. He had been cleaned up a bit, he was less grimy and dirty, although still too pale to be natural. His limbs where thinner, but he still marveled at being able to move them freely again. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Alfred smiled.

He waited for a while to see if anyone would enter the room. When nobody did right away, he got impatient and slipped out of bed. He was a bit wobbly on his feet at first, but he steadily grew more confident of his own strength with each step he took. He would become used to freedom again soon, but right now he needed to find Arthur. Alfred managed to make it to the door, opening it up a slightly shaking hand. A part of him was terrified that it all had been a dream. But the sight of the cozy little room helped set his mind at ease. He wasn't still locked away in darkness - this was real. Slowly, Alfred stepped out into the hallway, looking around somewhat nervously. "Hello? Arthur?"

“Then Evan came and tabbed the biggest man on the shoulder and punched him straight in the nose, he stopped him from grabbing Scott from behind.” Peter said excitedly at the table.

Arthur hummed in response, resting his head on his hand as he listened. He wasn’t as tired as he seemed, his mother had guilted him into sleeping. Saying he couldn’t help Alfred himself if he was falling over from exhaustion and stress. Still his forced sleep wasn’t smooth, there were worries in his dreams that plagued him. He would wake with a start only to churn the fact that Alfred was safe and everything was back to as normal as it was going to get for the moment until he fell back asleep. He was currently having breakfast with his family, Peter happily telling him about the fight between Scott, Evan and the thugs. Arthur had heard it before, especially after Alfred was settled and Arthur sat down, Peter practically jumped him with the story.

“Peter, eat your breakfast.” Arthur’s mother snapped at her youngest son. Scott snorted at the scolding, as he usually did when one of his younger brothers got in trouble. Their mother glared at him with her green eyes. “Scott, eat your breakfast.” Evan and Arthur snorted as they usually did when Scott got in trouble for snorting at them. “Arthur, sit up straight.” Arthur sighed a bit as he straightened up.

“Sorry, I didn’t sleep very well,” he said rubbing his face, proving his point.

His mother sighed, “You should probably go check on him.” She said and Arthur got up as quick as he could without seeming overly eager. “However, I want you downstairs at lunch, and you and I are going to go for a walk, you hear.” She said waving a finger at him, causing Peter, Evan, and Scott to snicker silently to themselves, Amelia did the glaring at them.

Arthur nodded before heading up the stairs and walking towards the room they were keeping Alfred in. He noticed the American was out of bed and peeking his head out of the door way. Arthur hurried down the hall ready to scold the man for being out of bed. “What the bloody hell are you doing out of bed?!” He snapped as he neared, his brows knotting together. “You should be in bed resting. Especially when you’ve been passed out for close to two days.” Arthur snapped, easing Alfred back into the room and stepping into the room, closing the door behind him.

For some strange reason, the fact that the first words out of Arthur's mouth were curses brought more joy to the American than could be considered normal. So this really wasn't a dream. If he were still locked with in that cell imagining this, Arthur would be holding him, whispering gentle, kind things in his ear. Reality played out more like this - Arthur's enormous eyebrows being pulled together in anger as he shouted at him for acting like a moron when he should be in bed. Alfred fought back the urge to laugh as he allowed himself to be situated back within the cozy little room. Oh how he missed this.

Still, Alfred conceded and went to sit carefully down on the edge of the bed. Better not upset the poor man more - he understood what it was like to worry too much. He smiled as he stared up into Arthur's beautiful emerald eyes, his own were bright with happiness. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to be sure this wasn't a dream," He admitted, letting out a sheepish laugh. How strange, he could not remember the last time he had laughed or smiled so easily. It was almost as if those months of isolation had never occurred. In Arthur's presence he was able to forget all the horrors as if they were little more than a nightmare and slip back into his own skin. How amazing love was.

Alfred shifted carefully, moving underneath the soft covers before laying down once more. As much as he would rather stay up and moving, his body really was tired and the bed felt too heavenly to resist for long. He let out a soft sigh and tilted his head up, enjoying the feel of his hair brushing up against the back of his neck. He needed a haircut and a good long bath, but that could wait a bit longer. First he needed something much more important. He held open his arms, silently begging to feel Arthur's slender form pressed up against his own. "Please Artie?" He asked softly, staring up at him with pleading eyes. "Let me hold you for a little while..." Or forever, if circumstances allowed for it.

Forever... He remembered back to when he heard of Arthur's fate, how his heart clenched up and withered beneath his chest. He thought that fate would be forever - how strange that the meaning of that particular word was so distorted. Still, that did not explain how Arthur had managed to cheat death once more. The sheriff had said he had been shot and it wasn't like men of that kind to lie and allow their victims to go free. No, he must not have been lying. He wouldn't have let Arthur out of his sight if he wasn't convinced he was dead. That would have meant... Alfred's eyes flickered down to Arthur's side, remembering the bullet wound he had sustained during their time on the train. How much time had passed since than? It must have healed by now, along with any other wound he might have sustained a few days later.

That was it than. Arthur had been shot. He really had almost lost his life, but by some amazing stroke of luck, he must have run into somebody who had the power to save him before the end. That's why it had taken so many months for them to reunite. Arthur was struggling just to stay alive. And his family, oh his poor family must have been watching him struggle day after day, wondering if he was going to pull through... Tears built up behind Alfred's eyes in spite of his strong will to keep them away. After hiding from his emotions for so long, he was finding it difficult to keep them under control. "You were dying, weren't you Artie? That's why you were gone so long - they almost did manage to kill you." Alfred looked away, trying almost desperately to get a handle on his tears. Lord why did he even bother trying to find him again? Obviously he would have been better off just taking off when he had the chance. He would have been safer, that's for sure. "How do you not hate me right now Arthur? If you hadn't have met me, none of this would have happened. You could have been safe back in England by now."

Arthur was quiet sure his face was completely blank as he stared at Alfred before him. However on the inside he was holding himself back from pouncing the man and feeling everything there was to feel about him. He walked about the room, checking everything and make sure things were in order, debating folding Alfred’s clothes again, he didn’t want to seem too excited Alfred was wake, after all that would no doubt get the American worked up. Alfred wasn’t making it easy for him either.

His brows knotted at the nickname, but not as much as it usually would, after all Alfred didn’t need him getting angry at everything little thing he did. Still Arthur wanted to be buried in his arms, feel the warmth that was Alfred wrapped around him and keeping him safe. He would happily give Alfred what he was asking for. He slid his shoes off and started to crawl in the bed when he noticed Alfred was tearing up. His hands quickly flew to the young sheriff’s face. Arthur grinned sadly at the American’s words before turning his head to look at him.

“I could never hate you, git,” Arthur said trying to ease the forming tears away, “try as I might, I never could.” It was the truth, Arthur had a feeling that no matter what happened Arthur would always have a positive feeling towards the man. “That’s true, none of this would have happened, I would still be on the run, my family never would have found me. One day I would be caught, one day I would be punished for my crimes. Because of this however, my family found me and know I’m alive and well, getting you out is helping wipe away the crimes to my name.” Arthur grinned, too many positive things had come from Alfred for Arthur to even think about how his life was not like he expected.

He laid down, burring his face in Alfred’s chest, hiding the burn of tears in his eye, pressing as much as he could of his form onto Alfred’s. “I don’t remember what happened the week after…everything, but I spent months trying to find you, using every source I could trust.” He had so many piece that fit with odd stories and made a clear picture. He chuckled slightly, “everyone said I was mad.”

Alfred leaned against the soft hands pressing against his face, enjoying the warmth that came from Arthur's long fingertips. Try as he might to surpress the oncoming tears, they simply kept building. He let out a small painful noise when he felt Arthur trying to keep the tears from falling. Even now, after everything that had happened, he was still trying to comfort him. But Alfred felt undeserving of Arthur's caring words - all he could think about was how close he came to being nothing more than another body taken by corruption in the west. How close had he come to that fate really? Too close. Even Arthur must have realized from the way he kept dancing around the topic.

"But how could I have helped you when I was on the wrong side too! Even the sheriff's were greedy and taking pay-offs to get what they wanted. I'm just some stupid kid who didn't realize what he was getting into!" Long overdue hesterics began setting in. He had once worn his cooper star with such pride - as if he would make a difference in the world under the name of justice. But his experiences in captivity showed him the concealed side of the law and it was just as dark as the criminal underworld. No human who had sworn an oath to protect people would have treated him as such. He was broken, beaten, and terrified of going back in the dark again. Monsters disguised as humans lived within the shadows, ready to take his soul completely.

Hot tears began rolling down his cheeks and his body shook violently. He no longer understood his place in the world where he once knew so clearly. He had never been so afraid as he had in that cell, although he hadn't allowed himself to feel it at the time. Now everything was rushing over him, yanking him down to force all the pent up thoughts and emotions he had been hiding from onto him. Perhaps it was better to stay numb. "I was so afraid," He admitted quietly, feeling, but not quite Arthur's body pressed up against his own. He curled up around the thin frame, shifting over onto his side so he could hide his face against one of the pillows beneath him.

He didn't make a sound as he cried. He simply lay there, holding Arthur tightly with his face hidden. He felt lost within a dream, probably his own mind again. Had he fallen into madness at last? So many months he spent trying not to break, not to give that bastard the satisfaction, but he must have failed. He felt darkness creeping up on him, threatening to pull him under for good. Demons rose up from the shadows, offering their withered hands up to him. Alfred screamed and shot out of bed, looking wildly around him. Nothing had changed. It was still light and the room was still cozy. Slowly he fell back against the mattress, staring around with terrified eyes. "I don't want to go back! I don't want to go back!"

Arthur listened Alfred, gently swiveling his thumb on Alfred’s back. Alfred was right when he said he could have been on the wrong side, but he wasn’t. Arthur and seen a lot of corruptness in his travels, as well as the young deputies who didn’t see how anything that was happening was right. Arthur cut down anyone who was corrupt, saw right through them most of the time, he could just see from the other people in the room. He hoped things were dealt with after he was gone, Arthur had built trusted contacts. Networking the small town sheriffs with the big town deputies and few experience sheriffs would were still with the law.

He felt Alfred shaking in his hold and remained quiet. Alfred had just come out a traumatic experience; no one was going to question his wild emotions. Arthur had been emotional (as he heard from his mother) during his fever, the only time he had been calm was when he was sleeping and not being caught in a feverish dream. Arthur didn’t recall any of that, and he was helpless on how to deal with people who had been through similar things as Alfred. However he was startled when Alfred suddenly shot bolt upright, causing Arthur to fall of his form a bit. The moment he laid down again, Arthur was on him, hushing him and being overly gentle.

“Shh…” Arthur hushed, gently scooping him up and putting Alfred’s ear to his chest. “It’s okay, I won’t let them.” His grip on the American tightened. “I won’t let them take you away again.” Arthur stopped himself from saying he would have to be dead to let them do that. He gently rocked side to side, running his fingers through Alfred’s longer hair. He kissed the top if his head, though his lips wanted the American’s lips, Arthur could wait. “I broke as much as I could of Ivan’s hold on the west. There are a lot of good people here. The Sheriff who took you, he was just a man dressed up, took the outfit of a good man came after us.

“There are a lot of people like you, young and overzealous, so willing to help.” Arthur grinned against Alfred’s hair. He remembered meeting all of the young deputies and sheriffs and seeing bits of Alfred in them. He would grin at them with a look in his eyes and cause them to wonder. He would always answer the question, silent or spoken, “You remind me of best men I’ve come to know.” They would usually ask and Arthur would tell them without missing a beat, “Sheriff Alfred f. Jones, the man I’m looking for.”

Alfred fell into Arthur's grip, allowing him to wash away his fear and panic with experienced fingers running down his hair. His body continued to shake, the last of the tears slipping down his reddened cheeks. Arthur's soft words and strong heartbeat meet his ears, but it was difficult to push away months of silence and torment. He was still terrified that he would blink and all this would be gone again - like the green-eyed angel in his dream. He couldn't take it again if that were to happen. His heart had already died once, he simply couldn't handle it if it were to happen again.

Still, he brought his shaking arms around Arthur's frame and clung tightly, burying his face within his chest. Despite being afraid that this all was a deluded fantasy, he allowed himself to sink comfortably within Arthur's grip and silently listening to the comforting words spilling out from his perfect lips. He squeezed his eyes shut when he felt him plant a soft kiss against his forehead, wondering if he would lean down and kiss his lips as well. But he stayed silent, wishing he had to the courage to lean up and push their lips together himself, like he used to do. The only thing that stopped him (apart from his barely restrained hysteria) was the question of whether or not Arthur would still want to. The Englishman had claimed he didn't hate him, but he never said whether or not he was still in love with him. Alfred's heart sank at the realization. Perhaps months of running around the west had caused his fondness to fade away, or maybe he had met somebody else. He wouldn't blame him - they had been separated for so long, anything could have happened to change what once was.

Alfred slowly relaxed within Arthur's arms. He still wasn't totally convinced that this was reality, but it felt so much more so than any of the other dreams he had. Plus, even if it wasn't, he wanted to make the most of the limited time he had to spend with Arthur. The blue-eyed man finally pulled back after what might have been hours, giving Arthur a tentative look. "I'm sorry... I can't control myself anymore..." He looked down at his hands, turning them over to observer them more closely. His wrists were still reddened from his last attempt to escape, although days had passed since then and the healing process had already begun. He remembered how desperate he felt to get out, even if it meant death. It was scary how willing he had been to throw away his whole life if it meant retaining even a shred of his freedom.

Alfred brought his gaze back up to Arthur's and was once again struck by the beauty of his emerald green eyes. "I..." He looked away again, managing not to burst back into hysterical tears. If he was going to get better, he needed to start developing a sense of control. He could beat this back again - he was stronger than a nightmare. "Thank you for saving me Arthur. It was dangerous and you didn't have to do it..." He reached forward and took Arthur's hands within his own, staring earnestly up at his pools of green. He shouldn't say this, he knew he shouldn't, but he had to. A small beacon of hope rose up within his chest, refusing to be crushed as he stared at the man his heart had come to depend on. Even if Arthur no longer felt the same, he needed to say it, just one more time. "I love you Arthur."

Warmth erupted from every pour of his being when that perfect phrase passed through his lips. Too long had passed since the last opportunity he had said it. Before Alfred realized what was happening, a uncontrolled happy grin had spread across his face. "I never stopped." Now it was up to the Englishman to respond. A part of him was afraid of the worst, but another was marveling over the ability to feel so light again. Even if Arthur were to have fallen out of love, he was happy to have at least felt the purity of love once more.

“No, I had to,” Arthur said staring at Alfred as hard as he could. He couldn’t turn his back, he should have run away from the danger, but he has always went in head first when he was passionate about something. Passionate about something, Arthur repeated in his head. Honestly if he turned away he would be haunted him for the rest of his life when he thought about it. Which he really hadn’t done at the time when he decided he need to safe Alfred. He grinned at the warmth from the American’s hands, before freezing at the next words that came out of his mouth.

He felt every muscle tighten in his body at them. The Briton had, for a while, never thought he would hear those words again, at least not from someone he deeply cared for. Cared for weren’t the right words, loved was. Arthur loved Alfred, probably always had, but didn’t have experience to place a name to it. The Briton knew after a month after everything had happened that he was indeed in love with Alfred. The fact it had taken him so long to determine that bothered him a bit. He could feel the water building in his eyes, and he retracted his hands from Alfred’s to wipe them away. However they were falling fast that he could stop them and there were so many of them. His joy was flowing at him, making his heart pound hard in his chest.

“You know why I had to save you?” Arthur asked leaning forward and touching Alfred’s cheek, marveling at how happy he looked. “My heart wouldn’t let me. It screamed at every fiber of my being to find you. I couldn’t turn away from you. I’m so in love with you I can’t thick rationally about how I should act.” Arthur grinned while his green eyes searched Alfred face, as if searching for a reason not to kiss him so he could crush it. It his thrill and disappointment he found none and brought his lips to met Alfred’s.

The moment tears began falling down Arthur's cheeks, Alfred feared the worst. Was he about to tell him that it was too late, he had been gone too long and the feelings they might have shared had faded. Or worse, he had found somebody else. Alfred bit his bottom lip, staring up into those pools of green with fearful eyes. He loved Arthur, and nothing, not even rejection would make him regret harboring those beautiful feelings. Still, the selfish part of him wished that they might go back to the way things had once been - surrounded by the stars. Alfred parted his lips, ready to apologize for bringing it up again after so many bad things when Arthur spoke.

Instantly the world filled with light again. Arthur loved him. He still loved him! He had loved him so much he had risked his life to find him and bring him back home again. Alfred's lips pulled up into a smile, tears building up behind his eyes again. Only this time, it was because of the wave of pure happiness rising up from his chest. "Real..." Arthur cut him off in favor of pressing his lips against his own. Warmth erupted throughout his body and his heart raced wildly inside his chest when he realized what was happening. He tensed for a moment before melting happily within Arthur's arms. He reached up and buried his fingers within his soft blond locks, pulling him closer. His clear blue eyes went hazy with passion before closing all together.

Fire began to ignite within him as the kiss turned passionate. It started slowly, chaste in the beginning, but after months of being deprived from Arthur's intoxicating taste, he found himself wanting more. Alfred tilted his head, somewhat frantically trying to get closer to Arthur. He leaned back, pulling the lithe man closer. In his excitement, he managed to forget that his body was still severely weakened and promptly lost his grip and fell back against the bed. Arthur's lips disconnected from his and at first he could do nothing but blink, startled by the sudden change. When he realized what must have happened, he tilted his head back and began to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. His first kiss in months from the man he loved and he managed to find away to klutz it up. Oh such was life. Well, his anyway.

When his chuckles had died down, Alfred opened his eyes and stared up at Arthur, a sheepish smile adoring his face. "Sorry about that... I guess I got a little excited..." He hesitantly reached forward, pulling the British man on top of him. The younger man flushed a bit when he caught sight of those eyes again. How intense he could look if he wanted to... "Um so..." He gingerly placed a hand against his soft cheek, leaning up so his breath merged with Arthur's. "Do you think we could... try again?" He bit his bottom lip, staring up at him with a hopeful expression.

Arthur moaned as the kiss deepened, becoming a fury of passion. The Briton followed every movement Alfred made. Alfred wasn’t the most experienced person he ever kissed, but it was the one that made his head spin the most. He happily crawled onto Alfred’s lap, only to topple over. Alfred’s laugh was lovely to hear and Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle as well, it was very humorous. It felt amazing to laugh, he couldn’t remember the last time he had had such a reason to chuckle like so. He honestly smiled as Alfred pulled him back onto his body.

“You really can be a stupid git,” Arthur smiled out in their closeness, before he captured Alfred’s lips again. He was slow, drawing out every kiss, before running his tongue along Alfred’s bottom lip. His hands ran about the young sheriff’s chest, feeling the muscles that still remained.

Alfred laughed at Arthur's affectionate name-calling, staring happily into his pools of emerald green. "Yes, but I'm your stupid git," He responded easily before happily meeting Arthur's lips for another kiss. This time, the kiss was slower, less frantic and Alfred slowly allowed his worn body to relax within the mattress. Arthur expertly worked his lips and let the passion build. He let out a moan when he felt the other man's tongue dragging along his bottom lip and he eagerly parted his own to allow him to explore. Everything was slow, sensual, and it steadily made Alfred's body grow warmer, especially when accompanied by the pair of hands wandering down his chest.

Alfred wove his fingers through Arthur's soft hair, pulling him closer against his lips. As the heat rose within his body, his cheeks became flushed and his body began arching off the mattress, trying to feel as much of Arthur's frame as possible. When the need for air became too great, the American pulled back. He panted heavily, his fingers still interlocked deeply within his choppy blond hair. He stared up at Arthur with his half-lidded eyes, cloudy with need and love. "Artie..." He whispered softly before pulling the smaller man back down for another slow, heated kiss.

He pressed his hips up against Arthur's, moaning at the contact. It was bad how quickly his body was reacting to stimulation and he knew this was hardly the place, but he found his reservations slipping away. The feel of Arthur's lips and body pressed so closely against his own made these long suppressed wants impossible to ignore. He needed to be touched, to be loved and he wanted to give these same fundamental desires back in spades to the man he loved. Alfred's eyes drifted shut again as he focused his entire attention back to the lips merging perfectly with his own. Arthur... He silently breathed, happily succumbing to the world of touch and instinct. Than, the rest of the world fell away.

Arthur hummed happily at Alfred's comment as he kissed him. He happily used his tongue to map out the American's mouth. Running it along every feature he could find, pushing himself up more so he could get further. Alfred was completely intoxicating, Arthur groaned he pulled away for a bit, but moaned when he was kissed once more. He gasped when Alfred connected their hips taken a bit by surprise by the pleasure it caused him as well.

Alfred's touch had been gone for so long it was obviously affecting him more than usually. He moaned as they kissed more. However he pulled back, trying to cling on to the tiny bit of reason that was making him act as such. As much as he wanted to get lost in Alfred, he couldn't. It was almost the middle of the day and who knew when the doctor would come for a visit or anyone in his family to see if he was okay and not sleep in some chair.

He groaned, burying his face in Alfred's neck, taking in as much of his smell as he could. "Bloody hell..."