This is our song, Arthur

Setting/Description: The story takes place after the end of WW2. Human AU.

Genre: Romance, Drama

Pairing: Alfred Jones x Arthur Kirkland

Dedicated to FlyingFree, a wonderful muse. The memories, the emotions, every important moment and word that graced our time together, will be remembered with sincere affection. You brought meaning and inspiration. Wherever you are, I hope you are well.

The bed was unmade. It seemed like time had stopped marching on from the moment they were forced to part. Spare, unused bandages remained untouched on the night table. The memory of a special someone who pledged he wouldn't ever let go, kept the inward wound open. No tourniquet would suffice to cease the bleeding. Because Arthur once held onto this oath. It kept him going and it kept him brave.

The Briton told himself that he wouldn't cry, but he did. He was supposed to keep his composure, but he yelled and cursed. He thought that he wouldn't look back in remorse, but he realised he should have kissed Alfred that night at the camp. For one, he should have let go of the fear of consequences. Because it was his very last chance.

The carved ring continued to adorn his pale hand. No matter how many times he considered taking it off and putting it away -especially now that Alfred wasn't with him- he always ended up rejecting the idea with a pang of unspoken sorrow in his chest. He just couldn't do it. If he did, it would feel like turning his back on a past that he refused to let go. And Arthur couldn't cut off the memories from the uninterrupted thread of his life.

How could he close that door and move on? Was it possible to leave Alfred, his beloved, in the inanimateness of oblivion? No, Arthur wanted his partner here, with him. Alive. The ring that the young American had given him, signified a deep promise— the kind that allowed the receiver of the gift to envision a hopeful future and a promising life. I'll always be with you, even if others won't want us to. Arthur really felt happy when he first heard these words because he didn't want to be apart from his American.

The opinion of other people wouldn't deter him from sharing a life of peace with Alfred. Not even time and distance seemed able to shake Arthur's interest and love for the fellow soldier who stood loyally by him and fought the common enemy with unwavering determination.

But then, his logic whispered that the end was already here. Alfred Jones had fallen and wouldn't ever come back to him. Yet, the Briton wanted to battle the dreadful thought with unyielding decisiveness; if you love someone, you never really let them go, right?

He knew that his family and friends would gossip about his persistence to keep wearing the ring. But none of them could ever understand how Arthur felt about his former comrade. This man was -and always would be- an inseparable part of Arthur's life; even in solitude, or during those times when his beloved Alfred would miss to visit him in the dreams of sleep.

The room where they spent their last, shared hours of fleeting peace, hadn't changed since they left to join the rest of the Allied troops. Arthur could still remember the halcyon moonlight that once cast its glow on their faces, lips and bodies, as it entered through the window of the dimly lit room, keeping quiet company to the two lovers.

Even in the sharp silence of the present, Arthur recalled the sound of his partner's brisk steps, the soft warmth of his whispering, the enthusiastic tone in his statements and his chuckle when the Briton admonished him or made a quick (but truthful) compliment. Even though they had different personalities and some of their views weren't in complete accord, Arthur felt that the American was the one who listened most energetically to him and cared about what he had to say.

It was the night when Arthur consciously showed to the fellow soldier that he had chosen him as his significant other. And Alfred revealed that he was interested for a long time and couldn't contain his cheery smiles when he became absolutely sure that the Englishman loved him.

"I want to be with you", Arthur told him after a kiss, while Alfred was keeping the slightly thinner man in his arms. The Brit must have lost the count of kisses they shared because his outgoing partner seemed to want to kiss him at all times— sometimes softly and carefully, and sometimes hard and passionately. It was a night that Arthur knew he wouldn't ever forget. His lover made him feel so alive.

"Really? Great. Because you already know I would go anywhere with you, Artie."

"But, you aren't here..." The Englishman murmured to himself, frowning. "And I don't know how to reach you...how to be with you again."

Their story started when US military units came to assist the British army against the Axis. Alfred was the one who approached him first and weeks later, he said that he found in him what he had been looking for. Perhaps, it was Arthur's turn to look for him now. He would need to surpass a certain limit. One last boundary that formed the line between life and death.

He stood up slowly and approached the drawer where he had stored some of Alfred's personal belongings. He searched for a specific item and picked it up. The metallic surface of the dagger shone under the weak light of a cloudy sky. It could be done like this...with the use of Alfred's weapon. Arthur ran his fingers across the cold steel of the blade and felt like he had never missed his lover's warmth so much before.

If they could no longer achieve happiness together, was there any point for only one to go on? Nobody could answer that for him. He gazed at his ring and allowed Alfred's pledge to echo into his mind, "I'll always be with you, even if others won't want us to."

An intense gleam of longing flashed in his eyes, "Right...this is why I can't turn my back on you, Alfred. If I am to choose between this world and you...it has to be you." He whispered quietly and steadily, shifting the point of the dagger so that its sharp edge could face his heart. He closed his eyes, waiting for his body's instinctive stress to numb. A future without the promise of Alfred's presence had nothing to offer.

A precise blow would ensure a quick end and nobody would really miss him...

The room was awfully silent and the tiny sound that pierced its dense quiet, seemed insignificant at first. It took Arthur a couple of seconds to acknowledge the mysterious, faint distraction. He opened his eyes with some reluctance. He blinked in disbelief, thinking that he must have imagined the sound which later became identifiable. He lowered the dagger slowly, keeping it at his side with the point facing the floor. His grip loosened, as if something had influenced his hand.

He recognised the melody coming from the music box, Arthur's gift for his late beloved. He remembered Alfred humming it or singing the lyrics quietly.

We'll meet again / Don't know where, don't know when / But I know we'll meet again / Some sunny day...

"This is our song, Arthur." The young American told him while they were getting ready to join their respective battalions. He sounded too cheerful, trying to impart reassurance and confidence to his lover and fellow soldier. "Even though we won't be in the same unit, in the end we will meet again, no matter the circumstances. I'm sure of it!"

Arthur recalled that he had smiled and nodded. He was much more restrained in his reactions, but definitively wanted the same thing as Alfred; to survive the war and enjoy their relationship in peace. He was ready to wish him good luck and advise him to be careful, but as the American leaned closer and Arthur realised what he wanted to do, the more cautious of the two said instead, "Al, not in front of the people."

"Aw, man..." He sighed and straightened up. "So what if they see us kissing?" He inquired vividly and then added, "I want people to know we love each other."

"That would be very reckless." Arthur explained. He kept a firm tone but his expression emitted fondness as he gazed back at Alfred. "And I could lose you if we are both not careful."

"You will never lose me." The young man asserted seriously and then his blue eyes softened as he looked at Arthur's gloved hands and continued, "Are you still wearing the ring I gave you?"

"I do."

Alfred smiled. "Each time you look at it, remember that nothing can get between us; people will always talk, world conflicts never seem to cease and death looms over every soldier's life. None of these can ever stop me from loving you and being yours. And I want you to remember that. You're remarkably resilient. I can see that in you. So, don't give up, alright? There is nothing that can break our bond."

It was their last talk, the last time Arthur saw that playful glint of confidence in his lover's eyes.

"Is that what you would like me to do...?" He muttered quietly. He looked at the music box and seemed to immerse himself into an intent musing. "Not to give up and wait for the day when we will meet again?"

Holding a weapon in his hand didn't feel so right anymore. Alfred always appreciated life more than giving up on it. He was the kind of man who knew how to live and how to welcome the possibility of his demise in battle.

Arthur placed Alfred's dagger on the nearby table. He listened to the melody which had begun in an unexpectedly soothing manner and ended smoothly.

"I trust you." He uttered, shaking his head lightly and a small smile softened the shadows of thoughtfulness on his face. "And until we meet on that sunny day, I will still be yours and love you."

[ Note: The lyrics that are mentioned, are from the song We'll meet again (1939), performed by English singer Vera Lynn. ]