The Sky Is The Limit

an: I always wanted to write something between Earhart and Alfred. I mean talk about similar interest. Anyways this is a one shot. I hope everyone likes my glimpse into 1930. Ps: yes, I know Alfred probably wouldn't have the same slang as the 21st century, but even in aph when they are fighting in wwII alfred still talks like he's from the 21st century...so i find it out of character to make him sound proper.

There was a knock at his door and he slowly walked over to it. He had his blanket over his shoulders and kept it snugly wrapped around him. His face was pale and lacked the usual enthusiasm. He felt horrible. His entire body felt frail, and he the difficulty he had opening the top of a jar made him longingly wish for those days he could lift a buffalo in one hand. He shouldn't have been surprised by his the dreadful sickness he had caught. The stock market had just only crashed a year ago, and it didn't appear to be getting any better any time soon. Hoover kept preaching that better times were right around the corner, but Alfred felt little faith. The rest of Europe was also in a state of shambles. Iggy couldn't even fork up the money he owed him from the last war. Maybe if he got the money he wouldn't be in such a shamble….Hoover had suggested higher tariffs.

He opened up the door, the wind causing him to cuddle his blanket even closer. He desperately hoped it wasn't more poor children in search of food. He had already handed out his last loaf of bread.

"Al, oh god, you look like shit," a woman's voice commented in a blunt tone.

His eyes perked up as he saw a woman in a long fashionable light green dress. Her short brown hair was kept under a tiny brown hat that reminded him of how awesome and roaring the twenties had been. He smiled at the sight of her, but his sickness prevented a full on grin like he wanted.

"Amelia! You're in DC. Why didn't you come by sooner I would have taken you about the town," he said, trying to be full of life, but at the moment he felt like he was about to throw up.

"The only place you're going is to bed," she scolded with a small smile as she stepped in and shut the door behind her.

"Oh are you coming with me?" he said with a boyish smirk, but closed his eyes immediately to hold back his gag reflex.

He felt his body sway from side to side. He felt so faint. A hand wrapped around his waist to steady him. He then felt the woman wrap his arm around her shoulder. He didn't want to put weight on a lady, but if he didn't he would fall. He leaned into her as she lead him down the hallway. "It's a pleasure to know that nothing can stop your childish flirting," he heard her say as he walked down the hallway and towards the stairs.

"Childish? I'm pretty certain I'm over triple your age," he said not liking the idea of the stairs at all. It appeared that Amelia noted it as well and automatically walked past them towards the guest bedroom.

"Age does not determine maturity, Al," she commented. He knew she was smiling, and he got great joy from that factor. He loved all his people, but there was something about Amelia that made his heart twist in knots. She was unlike any other woman he had ever met. She was fierce, adventurous, and ambitious. She would not let anyone stand in the way of her American dream. He assumed that was another reason he had a soft spot for her. Her dream was the same as his. They both wanted to fly high and see the world from above.

"Age helps with experience though, so I can promise ya, I won't disappoint," he said with a larger grin as she opened up the door to the bedroom.

"Attempting to seduce me, Mr. Jones, without a marriage proposal? That could almost be considered blasphemies in today's society," she said playfully. He wished he could see her smile. He loved the little gap in her teeth. It gave her so much character, and her smile always brought so much life into the room.

"Pfft, society said you couldn't fly a plane, you proved them wrong," he stated. She slowly placed him onto the bed, and he was greatly thankful he wasn't standing anymore. He immediately fell back into the cushion with a sigh. His legs still hung off the side of the bed.

His legs were picked up by her small hands and moved onto the bed. Alfred forced himself to shift. "Too many conservatives in this country," she mumbled. She then pulled the comforter of the bed from underneath him.

"Totally, but those liberals are a bit extreme too," he said with a yawn. Just being in the bed made him want to sleep.

She smirked as she pulled the blanket on top of him. The way she pressed the sheet around his chest was almost a way a mother would tuck in their son. "You're never quite satisfied are you?" she asked.

He felt himself let out a light laugh before he started to cough. He watched as those big doe eyes gave him a worry look, but he controlled it. "Don't tell anyone this, k? But satisfaction is over rated. It's like you've given up on the possibility of something better. When you're content then you've shut yourself off to whatever the future holds, you know?"

She smiled, and he felt his heart skip a beat in that moment. He loved when he caused that reaction. She took a seat on the side of the bed. "I understand completely," she said softly. Her eyes darted to her hand. "If I was satisfied with my life I would probably just ended up cooking in the kitchen…but how could I be satisfied if there was always a window giving me a glimpse of what could be out there."

Alfred grinned his first large grin since the stock market crash. "Exactly, this world has so much. I mean I've only seen a bit of it, but man…I'm so jealous of you. You get to fly. Is that why you came? I want to hear all about your adventures."

He watched her hands stop moving and the smile disappear. That wasn't the usual reaction he got from Amelia. Usually she would jump up and vividly describe every experience. He had watched her dance around his house explaining how plane took on storms and the small islands she would cross. She would go on rants how she dreamed about going around the world. She would proclaim that she would be the first. She would then ask of his travels and he would go into his own cultural experience. She definitely wouldn't go silent.

"I actually came for another reason, Alfred," she said seriously, but not looking at him.

He blinked from his position on the bed. She never called him Alfred. "My good looks?" he asked jokingly, not wanting to hear whatever horrible news she was about to drop on him. Was she not going to fly anymore? No, that would be horrible. She was so talented. Why would she let the pressure of society stop her?

She smiled slightly before looking at him with those eyes. They almost seemed sad. "I'm getting married, Alfred," she stated blankly.

He sat there with a befuzzled look on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing escaped.

…hmm..wha…uh

His eyes fell then went back to hers. He felt a pain in his chest, but he didn't want to show the hurt. Of course she would get married. She was an attractive woman with very ambitious dreams. Why did he expect her to stay single? "To who?" he finally voiced.

"Putnam."

"What?" he asked, forcing himself to sit up on the bed. "You've rejected him like a gigzillion time. Why are you getting married to him?" he asked, feeling a slight anger…or was it jealousy. No, he shouldn't be angry. She was going to live a wonderful life. She would have kids that would also have her shining personality. He shouldn't be angry…but…

"My family believes it is proper. I am in my thirties," she responded.

"So what? I'm in my hundreds, but I'm not settling down," he said, hearing his own anger in his voice. Why did this hurt so much?

She let out that soft sorrow laugh. "Alfred, you're America….it's different," she stated.

It was tortuous hearing that statement from her. If he wasn't a nation…they…they….it wasn't fair. "Amelia, you…" you what? You can't? He couldn't say that to her. You should be with me…

"I-I hope you two live a happy life," he said with a very force smile, as he patted her hand lightly.

As his skin touched hers, he felt a spark. He should be happy for her. Why did it feel like his heart had just been trampled on? He stopped patting and slowly wrapped his hand around her small soft ones. Amelia's eyes were staring at the interaction as it became very quiet between them. Alfred had completely forgotten how shitty he felt over his sickness. He was too distracted by the pain in his heart. He squeezed her hand tighter. He never wanted to let this person go. She was perfect.

"Thank you," a soft whisper escaped her lips and his eyes jumped to her face. He didn't need his glasses to see that her eyes were watery. He had never once seen this woman cry. Every time she was upset she tackled it face on. This was the first time he had ever seen her so nervous…so cautious.

His attention was brought back to his hand when he felt her own escaping his. "We shouldn't be talking about this. You're sick. You need your sleep, and I know you won't do what's good for you unless you're scolded into behaving," she said with a force grin. His eyes still locked with the tears that seemed ready to fall.

"True heroes know you push through the tough spots," he said to her and himself. He needed to force himself through it. Just because she was getting married didn't mean he wouldn't see her anymore.

"Ah yes, but even heroes need rest," she reached up and took his glasses slowly off his face. Her hand lingered there for only a moment before she shifted closer to him on the bed in order to reach the nightstand. She leaned her hand out and placed them folded on the top of the wood. She then looked at him. Their eyes locked, and Alfred greatly wanted to tell her it would all be okay. He wanted to tell her that this didn't matter to him. He kept his lips shut.

Her hand reached up again and brushed back his blond bang that had been sticking to his forehead. Instead of pulling away her hand held itself on his face. He watched as she bit her lower lip as if frightened. Amelia? Frightened? It was almost too strange of a concept to process. Maybe, he was completely blind without his glasses.

He really hated that look on her. It didn't belong on her beautiful features. Her hand cupped his cheek. "You are running a fever," she stated.

He didn't even hear the words. He only heard the tone of her voice. It seemed too much like a goodbye. His hand moved up to hers. He turned his head into her palm and pressed his lips onto it softly. He couldn't even count the amount of times he wanted to take such an action. He shouldn't be doing this now. He was a nation and she was his citizen. He shouldn't be toying with her life in such a way, but he couldn't help it. He left another kiss on her hand and then another on her wrist and then another on her arm as he slowly pulled her closer.

"Alfred," the woman said his name in a mixture of a question and statement. He looked up from her arm and to her lips that were only a few inches away.

"I love you," he said aloud then closed the distance between their lips. Her lips felt so soft against his own. They molded perfectly with his and he felt that same fiery spark as it continued. His hand moved to the back of her neck as the edge of her hair tickled his hand. He wanted so much to pull her closer to him. He wanted to feel her body along his. He wanted her to be his, and she was his…just…he wanted so badly to be human.

He pulled away. He saw the same mixture of frustration in her features. "I love you too," she said with sadness.

He wanted to smile…but. It was so unfair. He could never be with her. "This sucks. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," he remarked. His eyes fell to the blanket on top of him.

He felt a finger lift his chin up. He looked to see her smiling before she planted a hard kiss on his lips. It was dominant and quick. She then wore a grin that probably matched his own. "It's fine. I'm glad you did it, but just because we can't make anything happen now doesn't mean it's over. I don't know about you, but I certainly love the mystery of the future," she said running her free hand gently through his blond hair.

He smirked. "It's an adventure."

"Spot on, and you know something Mr. Jones…I have always loved a good adventure."