Sorry for the Spamano break, it didn't seem to be to popular. I'll try to mix it in with the USUK in the future.

We'll get back to USUK shortly. Here's a bit of Alfred's back story to lure you in.


"Come on, Arthur," Alfred grumbled, his teeth clenched under the weight of dragging Arthur through the foyer. "You're nearly there."

The response he received was a series of unintelligible mumblings from Arthur. The Brit's head lolled forward into his shirt as his eyelids drooped.

"Oh no you don't," Alfred scolded, pausing to tighten the knot of the gold vest tied to Arthur's bicep. Arthur winced in pain, shooting him back into alertness.

"Bloody hell, what was that for?" Arthur swore. A mix of pain and alcohol had done away with the gentlemanly countenance.

Reaching Arthur's room, Alfred shifted Arthur's weight onto his shoulder and jiggled the handle. Locked.

"Do you have the key, Artie?" Alfred asked as politely as he could.

"Don't…" Arthur began, then dropped to his knees outside the door. "Don't call me Artie."

Wincing as he twisted to a sitting position, Arthur leaned against the door with laboured breathing.

Alfred grimaced at him, crossing his arms. Arthur drifted off again into sleep and Alfred's expression turned to one of concern. His Artie was fading fast.

Turning, Alfred ran back to the front desk, leaping over the counter and started to rummage through the papers tucked away on shelves in search of a key to room three. Finding a box of keys, he started to rummage through the numbers.

Hearing the jingling of the keys in the box, Francis stepped out of the bar into the lobby to check on the front desk, spotting Alfred in his frantic search.

"Alfred, what are you doing back there?" Francis asked lightly.

Alfred looked up at Francis, panic clear on his face. He just shook his head and went back to rummaging through the keys.

"Arthur's… passed out. Sort of. I need the key to his room," Alfred explained.

"Onhonhon. Arthur doesn't keep a key for room three at the desk. It's in his office," Francis replied. "Allons-y. But don't be so desperate. It's not the first time he's been drunk, let me tell you."

"I wish it were just that," Alfred said as he followed Francis into the office.

Francis raised an eyebrow at the concern in Alfred's voice as he lit the candle in the office and fiddled in one of the desk drawers.

"Go on," Francis prompted, tossing the key ring at Alfred.

"He also might've gotten beat up and stabbed…" Alfred trailed off, not looking at Francis in the face.

"And where were you?" Francis asked.

"Paying for our drinks," Alfred replied. "I shoved them off, but the damage was done."

Francis sighed and mumbled something in French Alfred didn't entirely catch. All he understood were the words again and brothers.

"We should call for a doctor," Francis said, walking to the phone in the lobby.

"No," Alfred replied. "It's nothing I can't patch up."

Francis gave him a look. "You are a doctor?"

"Not exactly," Alfred said, rubbing the back of his neck and leading Francis back to where Arthur lay slumped against the door. "But you pick up a thing or two when doctors are few and far between. Arthur just needs stiches. I've dealt with much worse."

Francis looked at Alfred skeptically as the American knelt down in front of Arthur and yanked on the knot again. Arthur just startled in his sleep but failed to wake up. Alfred sighed and unlocked the door.

"Give me a hand lifting him onto the bed?" Alfred asked Francis.

"Of course, mon ami," Francis said, lifting Arthur over his shoulder like he weighed next to nothing. Alfred looked at him in shock.

"Comes from lifting bags of flour and carrying this one home too many nights," Francis explained, winking. "But explain these far worse injuries."

Alfred wasted no time puttering about the room, seizing a bottle of alcohol from the table, a cloth from the bathroom, and a needle and thread from the basket of cross stitching sitting next to a chair. Arthur groaned and tensed as Francis dropped him on the bed.

"You know… Bullet wounds, bits of glass stuck in the skin, blood loss, scurvy, missing limbs… and other appendages…" Alfred mumbled as he soaked the cloth with alcohol.

"Mon dieu," Francis said incredulously. "Amerique, I never believed it could be quite as barbaric as Arthur seems to think, but he must have been right."

"It's not America," Alfred shook his head solemnly. "When I first came there, I spent a great deal of time with people who had fought in the Civil War. They knew a thing or two from the field. Then I worked on a ship. Pirates, bad seas, sailing accidents. You pick up a thing here and there. Apparently I have a skill. They called me the Shaman."

Alfred cut a piece of string with his knife and threaded the needle with deftness. Francis climbed on the other side of the bed and sat cross legged.

"Have you told Arthur?" Francis asked.

Alfred rolled his sleeves as he replied. "No. He knows I ran away from home for America when I was younger and now I'm a merchant, but he doesn't really ask much about my past. So I don't ask much about his."

"Would you like to know? Did you not ever wonder how he came to own the hotel?" Francis asked.

"I think I'd rather Artie tell me if he likes," Alfred replied, untying the bloodstained vest from Arthur's arm.

Before Alfred could do anything else, Francis reached over and undid the buttons on Arthur's shirt with little too practiced fingers.

"I think you should tell him about it," Francis said. He carefully pulled off the shirt sleeve to reveal skull and crossbones tattooed to Arthur's arm just above the deep bleeding gash. "Someone dreamed of being a pirate once and sailing the seven seas with reckless abandon, not landlocked to this horrible island. He would adore hearing your adventures."

The revelation caught Alfred for a moment, but then he shook his head and gingerly lifted Arthur's arm with one hand, and the alcohol soaked cloth with the other.

"Maybe someday," Alfred began. "Maybe if he comes to America."


So both our heroes are harbouring secrets. Will Alfred tell his? Will we find out more about Arthur's past? Will Arthur go to America?

Review to find out! Hope you enjoyed.