Cold, that's what I felt, and tired but I couldn't sleep for fear of being frozen by the endless blankets of untouched snow. I must stay awake I told myself, my limbs far to numb to move. I looked around into the thick unwavering fog that surrounded me, wishing for some sign of hope, but there was none. I tried to yell out in hopes of gaining some ones attention, but I could not, my voice was hoarse and my throat was sore from all the previous attempts. I was alone, far away, abandoned, no hopes of ever being found. I felt like crying, screaming out my hates at the world, but there was no point. I had pushed my friends and loved ones away, one by one they hated me, lost their reason to care about, me. So what was the point of living if I was only going to be a burden on them, I should just die. But I wish, one last wish, to see his face, hears his voice calling my name one more time, like he used too. My world is going dark.

"Arthur!"

His voice, so far off, but I knew it was just my imagination, he hates me too much to look for me. Everything is almost gone.

"Arthur!"

Its closer, could it really be him? No, it can't be possible. He's supposed to be in D.C. right now. Not here in the snowy barren terrain of England.

I can feel something familiar, pulling me into a warm embrace, but it's too late, my world has disappeared.

It must have been hours, so why? Why do I feel myself waking up, I'm still cold, but not as frozen or numb as before. My eyelids feel weighted as I open them to realize I am no longer on the snowy ground that was to be my tomb, but in a clean white bed, in a scarily white room. I turn my heavy head wirily and notice that I'm not alone in this oddly familiar room, but my vision is so blurry I can't tell who it is. It seems he had fallen asleep on the edge of the bed, I want to reach out a hand and touch him, but I'm too tired to move. Is it this man who saved me? I stared at the man for awhile, refusing to sleep, not from the fear of freezing as last time, but of the fear of not knowing where I am. My brain was moving sluggishly, I couldn't seem to figure out where I was. Before I could determine where I was the man stirred and lifted his head, I closed my eyes pretending to still be asleep.

"Arthur, I'm so sorry, this is my entire fault"

He knows my name? How? Wait, that voice, it's HIS voice, its Alfred's. I open my eyes slowly, the blurred vision from my wiriness finally disappearing.

"Alfred"

My voice was weak and hoarse, but I know he still heard me. He looked up surprised, his eyes red from crying.

"I can't believe it, you're still alive" he gripped my hand gently
"I thought you were dead" he turned to stare at my hand in his, giving it a lightly squeeze.

"Your lucky I found you when I did, if not you'd be" he choked back a sob

"You'd be dead" He quickly started wiping his eyes, trying to stop crying.

"But you're supposed to be in D.C." I was confused, why was he here and not in America?

"Last time I visited we had a horrible fight and I didn't want to leave it like that so I came to apologize, but you weren't home so I went looking for you" He looked back up to me with teary eyes.

I never noticed I started crying, or that my body was so cold it hurt, all I knew was I was so happy. I pulled him into a hug which surprised him.

"I thought you hated me, that you wouldn't care if I disappeared" I cried into his shoulder.