We Could Be Heroes...

By: Aubrie1234


Arthur's eyes stared out the window as he flew from Moscow to New York. He hoped he wouldn't be too late, because the death of the lad would shake Arthur to the core. In a way, he had been a father to the man. Arthur raised a hand to touch his chest, right over his heart. Like all nations, he could feel when his people were about to die and when they did. Usually it was only a depressing feeling, but when it happened in large numbers or to special people, it hurt. And the man he was going to see was more special than others.

Earbuds in Arthur's ears vibrated with music, and the nation grinned when it began playing the new album. Released right on the lad's birthday, almost like a birthday present/swan song to everyone. Almost like he knew his time was coming. That dampened Arthur's mood a bit. To get his mind off of sadness and to wait through the trip (he was glad Ivan had allowed it, let alone everyone else), he thought about the first time he met the man, a musical legend...


1967:

It was a rainy night, Arthur walking home with his umbrella held high. Usually he would drive home, but he had the feeling this walk would show something extraordinary to him.

When he turned the corner, Arthur paused. A small distance from him, on the same side of the street, was a man. He didn't have an umbrella, so he held his jacket above his head as he tried to wave down a taxi. All he got in return was getting splashed by the water as the cars went by. Feeling sorry for the man, Arthur walked over and held his umbrella higher to cover both of them. The man looked at him in surprise, as if it was strange for someone to help him.

"Er, thanks..." the man lowered his jacket, revealing his short, dirty blond hair and heterochromia eyes, surprising Arthur.

"Of course, lad. Don't you have any place to stay?" The man huffed at being called a lad, but answered anyway.

"Yeah, but it's really far from here. And I can't even get anyone to take me."

" Well my house isn't far. You could stay the night." Arthur offered. The man looked surprised again, then shook his head.

"No, I'm fine getting home on my own."

"Then here, keep the umbrella." Arthur held the umbrella out, "You have more of a distance to go than I do." The man stared at the offered item, then shook his head again.

"No thanks, I couldn't. But...I guess I could take you up on your offer. I'm kind of lonely right now, trying to kick off my career."

"What are you trying to do?" Arthur asked as they began walking together.

"Musician, but I can't get anywhere. No one wants to listen."

"Don't let that get you down. If you need somewhere to record or do some songs, I have a recording studio at my house." The man's eyes went wide.

"You do?! That sounds really great! Are you a musician?" Arthur snorted.

"I wish. I'm more of a diplomat. By the way, before I forget, I'm Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."

"David Jones."

"As in Davy-?"

"NO! That's been part of my problem! People keep mixing me up with him!"

"Have you thought of using a different name?"

"Yeah, I changed it to something special a short time ago."

"Aren't you going to tell me?"

"I'd rather keep it a secret."

"So, back to being a musician. Why are you out here in London? Trying to get a record deal?"

"No. I came here for some lessons at the Dance Centre. Today was my first day." Soon they were leaving London's city streets and were more on the outskirts.

"Oh, there's my house!" Arthur pointed it out to David, "Like I had said, we aren't far. How long were you out in the rain?"

"About half-an-hour."

"30 MINUTES?!" Arthur was incredulous, "You'll catch a cold at this rate! I don't care if you need to get home, you're going in front of the fire as soon as we get inside!"

"Wait a second-!" Arthur tugged David along behind him, ranting about the dangers of staying in the rain for so long.


"Okay, you're made your d*mn point, so stop drying my hair!"

"Do you want me to wrap you in more blankets?" David grimaced at the thought, "Didn't think so." Arthur was drying the man's hair as they sat in front of the roaring fire of Arthur's living room, the elder feeling like he was taking care of Alfred all over again. He even voiced it.

"You know, doing all of this reminds me of when I took care of my little brother."

"Must be a brave lad if he has to go through this all the time." Arthur rolled his eyes at David's comment, finally taking the towel away. He had allowed the younger to borrow some of his clothes for the time being, but that didn't help with the cold much, so a blanket was drapped around his shoulders. At least David wasn't shivering or sneezing.

" Well he's grown up now. I don't see him much." A sad note was in Arthur's voice, the other could hear, "And I know this may be personal, but what happened to your eyes?"

"Yes, that..." David thought back, "Back in '62 I had a fight with a friend, and my eye was damaged. Left one, not both, and I now have a lack of depth perception. I'm still friends with him, though, because we both knew it was an accident."

"What were you fighting about?"

"Over a girl. Now that I think about it, it was pretty childish."

"Well, people do crazy things sometimes. Would you like some tea?"

"Sure." When Arthur came back with two cups, one for each of them, David continued, "You don't look that old, so why do you act like a grandfather?" Arthur paused.

"...Do you know what the term 'starman' means? It means an alien or foreigner, I think, and I'm one."

"You're not really British?"

"Bloody h*ll no! What I mean is that I, along with several friends of mine, are decidedly different from everyone else, both in the way we look and the way we act."

"Including me?" Arthur's silence was his answer, "...I see. Thank you for taking me in, too."

"It was no trouble at all. Do you need to call your family?"

"I did that while you were getting me clothes and the blanket. Since it's so late, I might as well be going to bed."

"There are several upstairs, but the farthest one is mine." A smile ghosted onto the older blond's face, "Make yourself at home, lad." With a smile back, David did so.


1969:

It was July 21 when the record came in the mail, complete with a letter from the lad he thought he would never hear from again.

'Dear Arthur,

'I can still remember that night very clearly, what you said to me. And with the space launch, I made this not only to celebrate the first man on the moon, but also as a gift to you. I never could find anything that I thought you would like, so here is something.

'-David Jones'

Arthur shook his head and brought the record over to the player and began to play it. The music that met his ears was nothing like he had ever heard, and yet it told a story. Music he had heard before always told stories, but not like what David had composed. Checking the envelope, he took note of the return address and began to write a letter back.

'Dear David,

'Your record is a smashing ace! How were you able to do it? I've never heard anything like it! Also, you know my address, apparently, so you're welcome to come by again anytime. I'm surprised, but not offended. Remember, my offer on the recording studio still stands. And I know a bit about music history, if you ever want to hear from me.

'-Arthur Kirkland'


1972:

A knock at the door on the 31st of April drew Arthur's attention, and he was surprised to see a grinning David on his doorstep, holding a stack of records.

"Nice to see you again." David commented as Arthur allowed him inside, "Sorry I never sent you a letter back, but my music career got kicked off with the record I sent you and I got terribly busy." He placed the stack on a nearby table.

"No need to apologize, though I would have liked a warning. What are those for?"

"These are all my songs so far, including this one." David held out a '45 that had been on top, "I took what you told me, about being a Starman, and made it into a song. Also, about the one I sent you, how I made it... Well, a musician never reveals his secrets!"

"That's magician, you sod!" Arthur chuckled, as did David, "My player's in the other room. Follow me." The man may have changed after a few years, but he was still young in Arthur's eyes. After all, Arthur was a country and David was only human. Going along with that, David followed Arthur back to the living room, where the elder had actually been playing the sent record softly before David came by.

"You are a sentimental old man, you know that?"

"Maybe, but that's because you gave it to me. I don't have very many friends, so I keep the ones I do have close to my heart." David paused at that, almost about to replace the playing record.

"...You must get pretty lonely, then."

"Sometimes. My brothers hate me and I rarely see anyone. In fact, I've heard more from you than I ever have from most anyone else except Alfred, and that's willingly. He was the little brother I told you about before."

"Do they hate you or something?"

"Well, I'm annoying, grumpy, and cook horribly most of the time. Many can't see past that."

"I do." David put the record on the table, right beside the player, "My father died back in '69, shortly after my first real song became a hit, and whenever I've been down, I always thought of him and you. When you took me in that night, I almost felt like you were a father to me, in a way." Arthur wasn't sure what to say about that, as his throat had constricted with emotion. He had never heard of anything like that from his family or friends.

"...Thank you, David. You're the first person to tell me that I'm like a father to you." The elder sat down on the couch, "Why don't we just listen to the record now?"

"Not yet." The younger sat beside Arthur, "I want you to know that you will never be alone. I'm sure your friends and family care about you, even if they don't show it. It's kind of lonely being a musician, too."

"I know. I remember the time I toured a little with John, Paul, Ringo, and George. Even with them around, it was lonely." David's jaw dropped.

"You...you toured with the Beatles?! THE Beatles?! How?!" Arthur chuckled.

"Is it really that surprising?"

"Of course it is! Who the h*ll gets to be friends with the Beatles, let alone tour with them?!"

"I knew them in the same way I know you, David. I found them when they were trying to break out into the music scene and helped them out a bit. It was a long time ago."

"You said you wouldn't mind telling me some music history in your letter. Could you tell me how you met the Beatles?"

"Of course, lad. It was in June of 1962, shortly before Ringo joined the band..."


1981:

'Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more."' Arthur thought the first lines of The Raven as a knock came to his front door. After what had happened in '75, David had come by more often for more stories. But as Arthur went to the door, he had a feeling this was no normal meeting. Opening the door, he found not only David standing there this time, but also the band members of Queen. Honestly, the man thought he would have fainted on the spot if he had been human.

"Hey, you don't mind if we use your recording studio for a bit, do you, Arthur?" spoke a sheepish David, "We just need a place to practice before we really record this stuff in Montreux. You know, secret stuff."

"Okay, you can come in." As he had never met Queen before, Arthur introduced himself to the band, "But please, don't wreck the place."

Minutes after showing the five to the recording room, Arthur was getting a headache. It seemed David was more headstrong in music than he had shown Arthur and was already fighting over the lyrics with Freddie. The man knew this by two things: One, he could hear muffled sounds from downstairs, out on the back porch, and two, the other members of Queen had come out to join him and explained.

"All of the band together is precocious enough." sighed Brian, taking one of Arthur's offered cups of tea, "With David it's even worse."

"But how is it going? Are you making progress?"

"A bit." nodded John, "It's mostly David and Freddie doing it right now, so we decided to give them some space."

"David seemed to hold you in high regard on the ride over." Roger commented, "Who are you, exactly? Not your name, but who you really are. I can tell you're not a normal man just by how you act to some of the most famous musicians in the world."

"Let's just say I have experience dealing with famous and precocious people. And has David told you anything else about me, besides the fact that I have a recording studio?"

"He's told us that you know the Beatles." John said, "Is that really true?"

"Completely." Arthur nodded and began to tell the story again.


1983:

Arthur's heart ached as he looked back on what happened this fateful October 8th, three years ago. It was hard to accept that one of the Beatles was dead, but it was to be expected. Fans could be insane and no one lived forever, by man-made means or not. However, his thoughts were interrupted by a familiar knocking at the door. Opening it, he found not only David standing there, but also Yoko and Sean.

"Oh, nice to see all of you again!" Arthur greeted.

"Uncle Arthur!"

"Nice to see you too, Arthur." Yoko agreed as Sean, being the hyperactive nearly 8-year-old, barreled into Arthur's legs, nearly knocking him over. David helped steady Arthur as he gave the man a questioning look. After the story of how the blond had met the Beatles, it seemed David hadn't expected Arthur to know their families, too.

"Come in, all of you." Arthur picked Sean up easily, "May I ask why you're all here?"

"I wanted to introduce you to each other, but seems I'm a bit late on that." David admitted, "During one of my recording sessions in '75 I met John and we became good friends. Now I help take care of Sean whenever I can, usually picking him up from his boarding school in Switzerland."

"We're also going to Hong Kong for a special concert that David's singing in." Yoko added, "Would you like to join us?"

"No thank you." Arthur shook his head, putting Sean down, "Thank you for the offer, but I can't. However, I can make sure you get the best seats in the place. A friend of mine, Leon, lives in Hong Kong and can get you anything you want."

"No, it's fine." The younger blond waved him off, "I just wanted to let you all get to know one another before we left."

"We can come see Uncle Arthur for my birthday, right?" Sean asked his mother.

"I don't know-"

"It's fine." Arthur interrupted with a smile, "If you want to have his party here, that's fine with me. I'll get everything set up."

"Yay!"

"We might just take you up on your offer." David winked, then they left. Arthur felt considerably better after their visit and stayed in the good mood for the rest of the day.


2001:

Arthur was eating breakfast when the telephone began to ring the fateful April day. Leaving his breakfast, he went to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Arthur." the man was surprised to hear David on the other end, his voice sounding sorrowful, "Could I see you today? I really need a friend right now."

"Of course. Come whenever you want."

"Thanks. I'll be by in an hour." As they hung up, Arthur wondered what had happened that had made David sound so miserable. He had felt a twinge of pain in the night, so maybe it was the death of someone close to David. All countries got those kinds of twinges when someone died that wasn't a normal person, but also wasn't all that famous.


Shortly after the call Arthur answered a knock at the door, revealing David, who had red eyes. It was obvious he had been crying for who knows how long.

"Come in, lad, before you catch a cold!" David gave a small hiccup-y chuckle at Arthur's words, reminiscent of their first meeting.

"My mother died today." he said once Arthur had led him to the kitchen, "I lost contact with her after I got my fame in the 70s, but after I married Iman in '92, I tried to reconnect."

"I see. I don't really remember my mother, but I'm sure she was amazing, just like your's."

"Well, part of my sadness is just from seeing her again, after so long, but to lose her so quickly..."

"I understand. Would you like some breakfast?"

"Sure..." David took a seat at the table, but wasn't really into eating anything. Arthur sighed at this.

"Why aren't you with your family? Shouldn't you be with them, mourning your mother?"

"I know, but I wanted to see you. Remember what I said about you being like a father to me? I still feel that way, so if you ever died..."

"That's understandable, but your family needs you. What about Zowie? She was his grandmother, too." David was quiet for a time.

"...You're right. I've been selfish, haven't I?"

"No, you're just being human. Now go see them." They left the table and went to the front door. Before he left completely, though, David took Arthur into a hug. Surprised, the man slowly hugged back and he could feel silent tears wet his shirt.

"Promise me you won't die any time soon, okay?" David whispered.

"I promise, David. I promise..."


2014:

Over the years, the two had met and talked several times and David was amazed at how Arthur never aged, However, the man, who looked older and older each year, never asked. He knew Arthur would tell him when the time came. As for now, though, David had asked Arthur to come see him in his apartment in New York, which was strange. David had only ever come to see Arthur, never Arthur go see David. Something was wrong and the nation knew it the second he got the phone call.

"Is something wrong?! Are you okay?!" were the first words Arthur uttered when he came into the apartment, the door having been unlocked in expectation of his arrival. David, who was on the couch, sat up and greeted him with a warm but sad smile.

"I have some bad news. You'll want to sit down for this, Arthur." Blinking, Arthur did so, slowly sitting beside his human friend, his emotionally-adopted son.

"A few days ago, I was diagnosed with liver cancer. They say I don't have much time to live, maybe about two more years. It isn't terminal and I'm going to do some chemo later today. I want to beat this cancer, Arthur, I don't want to let it take me." A wave of sadness washed over Arthur, but he understood. David's time was coming soon.

"I see. But you're willing to let it if it does?" David nodded.

"Of course. I want to make sure I give a gift to everyone in my parting, since I'm pretty sure it'll happen. You usually don't survive cancer."

"I know." Arthur put an arm around David's shoulder, "I'll always be nearby, just a call away. I don't want to lose you either, David. You and I have know each other for so long and took care of one another that I consider you a son, in a way. Just like how you said you consider me a father. And speaking of fathers, how do you think Sean will take this?"

"Not well, I assume. You're the first person I've told about it."

"Then could you do something for me?" At David's nod, Arthur continued, "I want you to fight this disease with all your will, David Robert Jones, and show the world how long you can last." David cracked a grin.

"You're the best, Arthur. I hope I can fight this thing off, too. Probably not, but a little hope never hurt anyone, right?"

"Hope is the best thing you can ask for right now, lad. Like you told me how you didn't want me to die soon, I hope you don't die soon, too."

"Thank you, Arthur. Thank you very much."


Present (2016):

"Arriving at LaGuardia Airport in 5 minutes. Please fasten your seatbelts." Arthur was brought out of the memories as the intercom came on. It had been a little over a 10 hour trip, but he was in New York City. Grabbing his bag, he checked it to make sure everything was in it. Satisfied, he waited for the plane to land.


"David?" Using the key he had gotten from the younger blond in the 2014 visit, Arthur entered the apartment. Hearing no answer, he went deeper into the apartment before finding and blond in his bed. Hearing Arthur, David opened his eyes and grinned.

"Nice to see you, Arthur. Happy Birthday to me." Taking a chair from the kitchen, Arthur sat beside the bed.

"Yes, happy birthday. My friends and I made you some presents." Opening his bag, Arthur pulled out a large stack of CDs, each with a stickynote for a label, "We did covers of your songs, every one since your hit in '69. Even Oliver and his friends pitched in."

"Really?" Arthur nodded, but his mood turned sorrowful and somber.

"David, it's about time I reveal everything to you. You see, I-"

"You don't have to." David interrupted, "I kind of guessed that you were a nation. Either that or an immortal man. Was I close?" Arthur smiled, placing a hand on the human's head.

"Yes, lad. You definitely were on the nation part. I represent the UK, or at least England. My brothers represent the rest of the UK and Ireland, but since they aren't around much, I usually represent all of it. As for why I came here, it wasn't just for your birthday." Arthur's face fell once again, "I can feel when my people die or are about to die. The feeling intensifies depending on how important the person is."

"...So I'm going to die soon?"

"In about 2 days."

"I thought I had a little longer. I've got songs in production already, but I won't be able to release them."

"But you've still made your impact all over the world. You've been a great man and you'll live on, in a way. And that reminds me of how much you switched between believing in God and losing your belief; oh, how much the Church tugged me back and forth..."

"I guess. I'm kind of glad that I'll finally be able to rest."

"I hope you die peacefully." Rubbing David's head gently one last time, Arthur left the CDs and the apartment, going back to the airport to return to Moscow. He still had a meeting to finish.


"On January 10th, just two days after his birthday, David Bowie, born David Robert Jones, died in his apartment in New York, surrounded by family." The rest of the newspaper meant nothing to the man as he carried it with him. It was a cold, gray morning as mourners went to leave flowers at the memorial in Brixton, London. Looking around, the man noted that there were some that stood out from the rest of the crowd, where he gave a nod. Those strange people knelt and left their colored English Roses on the ground, each one either a variation of peach, black, or bright blue. The man himself left one on the ground as well.

If someone had looked from above, from the air, they would see two images. One was the memorial on the wall of Ziggy Stardust, bouquets leaning against it. And, just a few feet before it, began a rose mural of what David Bowie had looked like before the cancer had begun. The memorial shared both old and new, from past to present, thanks to a special man and the work from him and his friends.


The man went home with his many friends, out to the giant garden, where they began a special concert for themselves, singing Bowie songs from A to Z. Rain poured as Starman began, the man twirling in the rain, singing as loud as he could while others played instruments around him.

"There's a starman waiting in the sky! He'd like to come and meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds! There's a starman waiting in the sky! He's told us not to blow it, 'cause he knows it's all worthwhile! He told me, let the children lose it, let the children use it, let all the children boogie!" The man continued to sing, even as the rain poured. The rain had always been like a friend to him, and today was no exception.


I never got really into Bowie's music until last year, when he died. And then, after that, I felt about making a tribute to him, but I didn't know what I could do until this year, back when I got into the Bowie mood again and thought of all the similarities between Arthur and David. Most things in here are true except for Arthur's intervention. Look it up on Wikipedia and such.

Anyway, I don't care if you read or review, this was just my version of a tribute. I think you might be able to tell what happened in the last few parts, because I won't tell you who they are.

Rest In Peace, David Bowie.