I wasn't at home for a good part of last week, and didn't have much time to write. But I do now! And Uploads should be more frequent since I think this will end up being my July Camp NaNo project.

And thanks, itsukyon11 for the French!

Also, huge shout-out to anybody who comments: lissale03, Krouel, itsukyon11 !

xx Sveg

Alfred found the most peace in the Present Line. Going too far in the Past scared him, and the Future was so strange and alien he usually steered clear. Plus, back in the twenty-first century, he could pretend that he was someone else.

It wasn't that he didn't like being a time traveler. In fact, he found it freaking awesome.

However, being kept in the dark was not cool.

He stalked down the sidewalk, tempted to look over his shoulder to see if Matthew had followed him, but refusing to give him the time of day.

He couldn't remember a time without his Counter. Even when he wasn't in sight, he was always there. Always near, always watching and hearing him. He didn't hate Matthew. That much he knew: he didn't hate Matthew. He couldn't hate Matthew, because he was all he had. It'd be a little lonelier than usual without him.

But gosh- he sure could be pissed at him. What was his deal? Asking him to trust him…Pfft.

Alfred snorted. He loved Mattie like a brother, but that didn't exactly mean he trusted him. How could he?

They were friends…occasionally enemies…but mostly tolerant of each other. And-

His stomach growled, reminding him of his missed breakfast. His timepiece had sent him back to the city around midmorning, and so he took it as still acceptable to get a cup of coffee and something to eat. His eyes caught the faded green and blue sign of a cafè, and he immediately stepped inside.

The noise of the waking up city was muted as soon as the door shut, and the sound of sluggish morning chatter reached his ears instead. Good, it wasn't crowded. That meant no line.

The barista had his back turned, his arms waving to someone hidden in the kitchen. "Non! Non! Cumin is not the same as cinnamon! No wonder everything you make comes out so terrible…" He muttered something lowly and barged into the kitchen, shoving another barista out. Alfred alerted the new man instead of his presence, smirking at the lingering sense of deja vù.

"Hey, dude. What can I get for five cents?"

Matthew was pushed to the edge of the sidewalk and nearly stumbled into the street.

"Hey, watch it," he muttered as he shoved- no, people were shoving him- throught he morning rush. No one responded. Not an, "oh, sorry", or an "excuse me", not even a sharp, "you watch it".

He slid his glasses back up his nose, and lifted his chin in an effort to see above sidewalk crowd. Where in the world had Alfred gone? He'd never willingly go to the Future, and for some reason he was terrified of getting stuck in the Past. Which meant that he was around here somewhere- after all, his watch had lead him in his general area.

Alfred was always the one to blow up first. He'd never been able to match Mattie's patience, and in turn Matthew had just stopped trying to put up with him.

Why couldn't he just get his work done? It wasn't that hard, not really. Most people would be thrilled to be time-travelers- Alfred seemed to enjoy it, but he definitely wasn't interested in the duties that came with it.

How long ago had it been since he had met his friend? They had jumped timelines so many times that he wasn't sure he could produce a definite answer anymore. He had a date, of course- but how many times had they traveled down the Past Line or up into the Present?

He decided to settle onto a bench to watch and wait for Alfred. When he was done cooling off, he could come find him so Mattie could apologize and he could apologize back. Or just dive straight back into an assignment, whichever came first.

1776, he thought with a smile. What's that, nearing 250 years ago? Jeez, it seemed like yesterday.

It had been sometime in winter, perhaps late December or early January. The Revolutionary War was gaining speed, so he mostly avoided people and allowed himself to wander around the outskirts of Quebec City. It was snowing- no, blizzarding, and though he felt the bite of cold on his fingertips and nose, it didn't affect him. At least, not until a little while. If things got seriously uncomfortable, he could use his one yearly time trip to go into the Future- think his way past the war and into the Caribbean. But he wouldn't waste his precious jump on something so trivial as being cold.

He flipped the cover of his watch and tapped its face thoughtfully. "Tell me when," he said to it.

To his surprise, the glass darkened, and he dove into the woods, afraid his heart might beat straight out of his chest and into the sky. Now? He thought. It was a rhetorical question!

Black tendrils unfurled from the clock hands and tugged at his arm, and he bit his lip, resisting the fear crawling up his throat and focusing on the thought that it meant the watch's brother was near. Meanwhile, the thin second hand had become a fine trail of silver that shot through the trees.

He struggled to follow it. He stumbled through the snow, stopping every few minutes to reorient himself, as the silver was hard to follow in a world so gray and white.

His left arm was limp at his side- whatever the thick black tendrils were, they were heavy. He ran awkwardly, afraid and hurting and impossibly cold now. But the silver thread wouldn't wait for him, and he had no choice but to keep pushing on, keep pushing on, keep pushing on…

A moment later, he found himself staring at the open sky, and endless expanse of gray. Snowflakes seemed to be materializing out of nowhere, and the wind cut into his face and his fingers and toes throbbed. He must have fallen. The silver thread ran right above him, and he lifted an arm as if to grab it. That would make things a whole lot easier, wouldn't it? How far away was his watch's partner? He felt like he'd been stumbling around for quite sometime.

He wished he didn't have to chase after it. What if he just laid here in the snow, and waited? That wouldn't be so bad, right? His time traveler could find him. Give him a taste of his own medicine, since Matthew had spent quite a few lifetimes looking for him.

"It doesn't work like that," said a warm voice in his ear. He turned his head to see a boy besides him, sitting on his heels with his head down. He had on a soldier's uniform, red white and blue. An American rebel.

"Pardon?" Matthew asked, managing to lift the upper part of his body and lean back on his hands.

"It doesn't work like that," the boy repeated. "Now you have to start over."

"I-I don't understand."

The boy lifted his face, his eyes burning. He slid a hand into his coat. "What's there to understand?"

Matthew had the fleeting horror that he was going to get shot, right then and there. But instead, the soldier produced a small locket on a thin silver chain. His own watch flared and he cried out as his arm seized.

"You failed. You have to start over."

"But I found you!"

"Too late. You got to me too late."

And that was when he noticed that though the wind was harsh, not a single hair on the boy's head moved. Though it was freezing, he did not shiver and his face was not red. Though it was dim, his outline had a faint silver glow to it.

"You've got to find me again."

Matthew clutched his arm with a cry.

"They got me. They got me before you did."

Using his free hand, he fingered the knob of his timepiece. His one trip. It wouldn't matter as long as he managed to find the boy again; he'd get unlimited trips once he became a Counter. But if he didn't make it in time…his yearly trip was up and the boy would be gone. It'd take another forever to find the next timepiece-bearer.

He took a deep breath-

-and jumped.

Matthew stared at the sky, running his thumb over the watch's face. He'd gotten to Alfred in time, all right. Ran faster than he ever had in his life. As soon as he managed to grab Alfred's arm, he found them both at the Circle, whisked away from the harm that had befallen the first Alfred.

He rubbed his arm, remembering the ghosts of the black tendrils. Alfred always made it difficult to protect him. Couldn't he see that he was only doing his best?

He got up with a sigh. He'd wait for Alfred at the Circle. It was getting too crowded out here, and while Alfred enjoyed the company of others, Matthew did not.

He made his way into an alley– away from public view- to jump. After a moment of complete darkness, he found himself lying on his back, staring back up at the painted ceiling.

His heart stopped as a face leaned over him- auburn hair and wide eyes, and not Alfred.

"Ludwig! I got one!"

HahahahahaHAH.