Hello everyone! This story has actually been floating in my head for about a year now, if not longer. It recently leapt back into the forefront of my mind with the release of the 'Davie' strip, as it explores similar concepts.

For those of you who read my fic 'What Did I Get Myself Into', I realize it has been a dreadfully long time since I updated. I'm having a hard time figuring out where to go with it. HOWEVER, if it's any solace, this fic takes place in the same universe as that, and has some Washington in it. =P I hope you enjoy!

Alfred grinned wildly, ducking behind a building before peeking around to make sure that no one was following him. Once he saw that the coast was clear, he chuckled jovially, removing a few feathers he'd added to his hair for the occasion. He was terrified as to how Arthur would react to what he and the Sons of Liberty did, but also ecstatic. His heart was racing, and his act of defiance brought forth a burst of energy.

"Well you look like you just came back from a party," a voice jolted Alfred out of his reverie, and his eyes darted to the owner of the voice – a young female, likely his own physical age or thereabouts.

"You could say that," Alfred responded with a wicked grin. "A great big tea party."

Instead of scoffing or rolling her eyes, the girl laughed. Alfred's grin widened. He wasn't quite sure why hearing her laugh made him feel funny inside, but he enjoyed the feeling and wanted to experience more of it.

"Well, I suppose you'll want to be getting home. It is getting late."

Alfred's sails deflated a little at this reminder. "Yeah…Arthur is not going to be happy about this."

"Arthur?"

"My adopted brother. He works for the British."

The girl made a face. "Oh. No, I don't suspect he'd be too happy. I suppose I'll see you around. Sarah, by the way. Sarah Weaver."

Alfred smiled. "Alfred F. Jones. I suppose I'll be seeing you around."

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Alfred and Sarah "saw each other around" far more often than either of them predicted that first night they met. As the next two years passed, the two made frequent meetings. "It" happened about a year into their friendship. Alfred and Sarah were talking about Alfred's troubles with Arthur when Alfred threw caution to the wind and touched his lips to Sarah's. From there, their relationship took a decidedly different turn, but one that neither seemed to mind the course of.

In April of 1775, Alfred moved out from under Arthur's roof. Sarah and Alfred grew closer as Alfred lived closer to where Sarah and her parents lived. Alfred was in love with Sarah. There was no other way to describe it. He wanted to spend his whole life with her. A nagging feeling presented itself when Alfred came to this realization, but he tried to push it aside. He wasn't going to let a feeling of dread ruin what was, perhaps, one of the best things that happened in his life.

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In 1776, Alfred could no longer ignore the urge that something immense was happening within his borders, something that he absolutely needed to be there for. The call was coming from Philadelphia. Alfred left Boston on a crisp spring day, giving Sarah an extra long kiss before riding off for Philadelphia. He reassured her that he would only be gone for a few weeks, once he figured out what was going on – but whatever it was happened to be important, and he needed to be there for it. Sarah seemed to accept this, though Alfred noticed the slightest shadow of a doubt in the young woman's eyes. It unnerved him, but he once again pushed any ill feelings aside, choosing instead to focus on the rush of excitement that was radiating from Philadelphia outward.

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Alfred was gone for a few months. The feeling associated with Philadelphia turned out to be associated with the Second Continental Congress and the formation of a Declaration of Independence. He returned to Boston in high spirits, excited to see Sarah once more. The reunion was short-lived, though, much to Sarah's chagrin. Alfred would be joining the Continental Army. At first, Sarah tried to convince him to stay. She was soothed by Alfred's promises that he would write, that he would try to return occasionally to visit her. The night before Alfred left, the two had a long talk.

"What does the F in your name stand for, Al? I never asked you that," Sarah inquired as they sat.

Alfred smiled lightly. "What if I told you that it stood for Freedom?"

Sarah rolled her eyes as a sad smile crossed her face. "I'd say you were an idiot, Alfred Freedom Jones. An overly optimistic, lovable idiot."

Once again they departed with a hug and a kiss, Alfred smiling to Sarah as he started to ride off. Sarah smiled back, but this time, it didn't quite reach her eyes.

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Alfred and Sarah sent letters back and forth for a year. The letters started to taper off in the middle of 1777, though Alfred failed to pay much mind – The War for Independence was taking increasing precedence in his mind, and the lack of a letter from Sarah was placed at low priority. She was waiting for him. It wouldn't hurt to wait just a little bit longer.

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A "little bit longer" turned out to be 1784. Even after the war finished, Alfred needed to get his affairs in order. He had to appear in Paris to sign the Treaty of Paris in late 1783. As Alfred rode into Boston, he couldn't help but be mildly surprised at how much it changed in the short time that he was gone. He asked one of the townsfolk where Sarah Weaver was living now, and received directions to Sarah's home. She'd moved since he last saw her.

Alfred walked up to the home with a large smile on his face as he took in the appearance of a home. He couldn't help but note that it looked awfully large for one person. He stopped at the door and knocked a few times, standing back to allow room for the door to open when he heard noise at the other side. The smile on his face dropped abruptly at the sight of a little boy and little girl at the door. Did he have the wrong house? Clearing his throat, Alfred tried to recover his composure. "Er…hi. Can I speak to Sarah Weaver?"

The children looked back at him in confusion. A man of about 30, presumably their father, came up behind them. "Sarah Weaver? You said you were looking for Sarah Weaver?"

"Yeah! I…"

"William, who is it?" an achingly familiar female voice interjected.

"Sarah!" Alfred called out at once, beaming at once. The woman gazed in his direction at once, a startled expression crossing her features before settling into a calm demeanor. "William, take Abigail and Thomas into the kitchen." The man and children moved away from the door as the woman moved closer. There was absolutely no doubt in Alfred's mind that this was Sarah. She stepped outside to join Alfred, Alfred practically bouncing on his heels in excitement.

"Who are you?" Sarah's words cut into Alfred like a knife.

"Wh-who am I? What do you mean, Sarah? It's me, Alfred!"

Sarah smiled wistfully. "Alfred was my first love. We met in Boston when I was fourteen. I was seventeen when he left to join the army. We said we would write, but…the letters stopped coming. I met William and we fell in love and married. We now have two lovely children in Abigail and Thomas." The woman's demeanor brightened as she described her husband and children. To Alfred, it felt like a knife in the chest. Sarah continued on.

"I know you're not Alfred, though you do look like him. Alfred would be at least in his mid 20s now. Is he alright, though, at least? I would like to know that he is alright."

Alfred's mouth opened and closed in what would have been a comical fashion were the situation not so heartbreaking. Alfred wanted to protest, to insist to Sarah that he was Alfred – but he stopped himself. Sarah had a happy marriage with two fine young children. Would she have that with him? He was a nation. He had other duties that he could not ignore. He could promise to be by her side, but it was a promise that he could not keep.

"He's doing perfectly fine," Alfred lied, trying to muster up a convincing smile. Apparently it was convincing enough, as the corners of Sarah's lips turned upward. Alfred felt as though a dagger was being twisted into his chest.

"Good, I'm glad to hear that," she responded, before taking one last look at Alfred before turning back into the house. Alfred stood there for another moment or so before turning to take his leave. He was near the end of the walkway when he looked back at the house.

It happened again. When will you ever learn? He thought to himself before walking away.

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"You did the right thing," George Washington told him several days later when Alfred went to meet with him at Mount Vernon.

Alfred let out a sigh, running his hand through his hair. If he had to hear that one more time he would scream. Sure, he might have done the right thing, but that didn't make him feel any less horrible about it.

"I should have known better," Alfred retorted at last.

Washington shook his head. "How could you know better? She was your first love, right?"

Alfred turned to meet Washington's gaze. He knew that Washington was only trying to make him feel better. "My first love, but not the first human that I cared for. There was a boy, when I was very young, named Davie. We met in a field not far from where Arthur and I were living. We got to talking. He was my first real friend my own age. Well, my physical age, at least. He showed me this picture of a flower that he wanted, and I promised him that I would get it for him. I looked and looked, but couldn't find it. By the time I finally got the flowers, it was too late…he never got to see them."

Alfred bit his lip, suddenly appearing far more interested in the ceiling. In reality, he was trying to stop the well of tears from rolling down his face. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to face Washington at once.

"You still did the right thing. You knew she would be happier this way."

"It still hurts," Alfred mumbled with a roll of his eyes, to which Washington chuckled.

"I know it does, but that is sadly a part of growing up – whether you are human or a nation."

Alfred nodded in agreement. It still hurt, but somehow the hurt dissipated a little with Washington's words. "It's not going to stop me, you know."

Washington arched a brow. "Not going to stop you?"

Alfred nodded once more. "Not going to stop me from getting close to humans. You're going to die one day. I don't want that day to come, but I know it's going to happen. That doesn't mean that I wish I never met you, or Davie, or Sarah. I know it hurts, but sometimes you have to risk that hurt for something great. In Davie's case, I found a good friend, in Sarah's case, I found a first love, and in your case, I found a man that was like a father to me."

Washington seemed to consider what Alfred was saying before smiling at the young country. "You really are growing up."

It was Alfred's turn to chuckle. "Growing up's not really what I thought it was cracked up to be."

Washington shrugged, moving to his feet. "You said I was like a father to you, right?"

Alfred looked up at Washington in confusion. "Yes…?"

"What kind of father would I be to leave my son alone at a time like this without some sort of comfort?" Washington responded, turning to face Alfred once more. There was a bowl of ice cream in each hand. Alfred smiled as Washington placed one bowl in front of him.

"Eat up. You're a growing young country and I want to make sure you get your fill."

"Thanks Dad," Alfred responded with a chuckle as the two sat and enjoyed their ice cream.