There are some things you take for granted, until they are already gone. When Alfred Jones became a pilot, his then lover Arthur couldn't have been more proud of him, willing to wait the hours for him to return home from his flights all across the country, even oceans sometimes, all for those moments, when Alfred would take of his pilot's cap and set down his bag, run forward and wrap his arms around Arthur and kiss him senseless. It was the happiest moments of his life, and something he wished he would've cherished more, instead of grousing about Alfred being late or missing dinner or something. Alfred was one of the best pilots out there, and he flew many flights over the few years they had been together, and no matter how much time passed Arthur always worried. He knew he had no reason, Alfred had earned top grades on all his tests, passed every check, could rattle off facts about equipment and numbers and things about elevation and lift until Arthur was ready to simply fall asleep, but he was brilliant in every way, and Arthur loved him for it. Loved the bright shine in his blue eyes, the colour of the sky he loved to soar through, and the way he could babble on for hours about his day, the places he'd been and the things that had happened to him, people he'd met. Arthur loved hearing him talk about everything with such joy, such excitement that never really diminished no matter how bad of a day it had been, his love of the skies and the thrill of the flight.

But he knew, that morning, that all his fears weren't unfounded.

It was a phone call, as always is in those types of situation. It was the preferred method of contact, something that didn't require a face to face meeting, to have to put on airs of regret and the surety that everything would be alright, when they knew that it wouldn't be. Arthur kept his calm, as he always did, years of tight upbringing assuring it, but it was thinly veiled. He set the phone back down on its base, hand certainly not trembling, most definitely not, as he put on his jacket and shoes, barely remembering to grab his keys or wallet as he walked out to his car, a little black Volvo-Alfred had always joked it was fitting, something simple and homely, and Arthur had walloped him more than once for it-and he backed it out of the garage, mostly in autopilot at this point, at least trusting himself to be able to push it aside long enough to get where he needed. When he got to the hospital and went to the desk he expected the uncertainty he would get, the hesitation and such that he was used to when it came to his partner and his relationship. But he wasn't up to such a thing today, and he simply handed over a piece of paper he carried with him to the woman behind the desk.

"These are the legal papers, stating that I am legally allowed to make decisions and be there with Mr. Jones. Now, get me the Doctor in charge of him, I need to know what happened-and don't give me that rubbish about not being able to tell me anything, you are legally obliged, and I need to know now, Miss-Clearwater, is it?"

The young brunette behind the counter stared at him with wide eyes, but she simply nodding meekly, paging one of the Doctors and telling him to come to the desk. Arthur waited to the side, pacing, practically jumping the man when he walked up to him.

"You're Mr. Kirkland?"

"I am-tell me, what's happened? They only told me there was an accident."

"Yes, there was…well, from what I believe, a technical problem, with the engine, it blew up shortly after takeoff. He managed to land the small craft but both he and the co-pilot retained major injuries, however all five of the passengers were safe."

"But Alfred? How is Alfred?" Arthur asked urgently, looking at the Doctor, trying to keep his voice from heightening in pitch, but failing. "Please, I…I just need to know, I haven't heard much."

He didn't like the way the Doctor's face grew grim, even as the man tried to compose it so as not to frighten him Arthur knew that the news he would receive wouldn't be the hopeful kind, and he sunk down into one of the chairs in preparation, his fingers gripping the wood armrests as the Doctor stated.

"Frankly, I don't like to lie, or give false hopes, and in this case…well, he will live, we tried our very best and he is mostly stable. The nose of the plane crumpled when they went down, however, and he was trapped inside, it took them a bit to get him out, and he was injured pretty badly. His collarbone was broken, and he has multiple lesions and bruising all over his body, and his spine-"

"Spine? Oh…oh, no." Arthur breathed, shaking his head, knuckles turning white as his grip tightened because he knew what was coming, he'd seen enough movies and television dramas to know what the man was going to say. "Please, don't tell me…"

"I'm sorry, Mr Kirkland." The Doctor sighed wearily, shaking his head. "He has lost all motor function from the waist down. It's highly unlikely that he will ever recover it."

oOoOoOo

When Alfred first awoke, Arthur tried his best to comfort him, console him, but even as hyped on drugs as Alfred was he was aware that something was wrong, and when he realized just what he burst into noisy sobs, fingers fisting into the sheets even though it must have hurt him. Arthur cupped his hands over Alfred's, uncurling his fingers gently and kissing them, tears falling from his own eyes. Even after several days, Alfred still wouldn't believe it, wanted to hope it would get better, it had to, he couldn't be paralyzed, he would never fly again. Worse yet, the damage to his brain from the fall meant his vision was diminished and he would need lenses and that was another big blow, and he was inconsolable. Arthur tried as best he could, but he was at a bit of a loss too, he didn't know what to say or do that could possible make his lover feel any better. When he finally could bring him home, he tried smiling at Alfred when he pushed his wheelchair through the doorway.

"I fixed everything up, love-moved your things to the guest room on the bottom floor, so you could get there without always needing my assistance, and it has your television and games and everything." He said, his smile faltering as Alfred looked around, his blue eyes looking bigger and sadder only with his new glasses, and it broke Arthur's heart. Alfred was quiet as he wheeled him into the kitchen, pouring him a glass of water and sitting down next to him at the table, reaching over without thinking to pat his thigh comfortingly, drawing his hand back when he realized his mistake, and Alfred's sad expression.

"Oh, dear, I didn't mean to-"

"No, Arthur, really, it's fine." Alfred said quietly, a sharp contrast to his normal bubbly tone when he came home, and his gaze was drawn down to the hands that rested on Alfred's lap, trembling on top of the patchwork blanket that rested across it, and then he noticed the droplets falling onto them. "I-I just…I could only think, when I came in, that I wanted to kiss you, throw my arms around you and tackle you and…but I can't, can I?" his voice was choked enough with emotion to make Arthur's eyes sting with tears of his own, and he wrapped his arms around Alfred.

"You can still kiss me, love, don't be silly. I love you no less."

"But I can't run to you, or scoop you up into my arms l-like the day we got engaged, I can't…I can't lift you up and carry you inside even though you hate it…I can't do anything anymore. I can touch you, but it's like…l-like worse than being a child again, because it's something I'll never get back, that ability to do those things with you."

"Oh, Alfred…Alfred, sweetheart, it just means we have more learning to do, new ways to love one another." Arthur whispered, hugging him, pressing a sweet, tender kiss to his lips, tears falling down his cheeks, but there was a sad smile on his lips too. "I don't need you to run to me, or carry me, or anything, because you're still here, and that's all that matters to me, darling." He reached up, slipping the offending lenses from his face, closing his eyes and kissing his forehead. "And that's all that will ever matter to me, Alfred. I love you, every part of you, and this is nothing, it won't change anything, I promise."

Alfred just looked at him, and then Arthur felt his frame shaking, his breathing hitch and arms wrapped around his own smaller frame, and Arthur just closed his eyes and wrapped his own around Alfred more. He let him cry as long as he needed, because no matter what, even if he would never have those moments again, that sweet contact, he would learn new ways to show how he loved Alfred, and he would keep doing so no matter what came their way.