[A/N: I want to reassure folks that this story will have a happy ending for Alfred, Arthur, and Atlantis. That said, this chapter is T-rated for violence.]
Alfred could see the others waiting on the far side of the rope bridge. Arthur pulled him down into a crouch and Alfred had to admit that it was a good idea to stay hidden until he could hear what Francis, Antonio, and Feliciano were talking about. He wanted to believe that they would side with him instead of Gilbert. Still, he had to admit that he wasn't the best judge of character, as the Atlantis expedition had clearly proven.
Instead of crossing the rope bridge, Arthur showed him a lower path hidden behind a giant stone guardian. It took a while longer, but was well worth the element of surprise. The mist rising from the base of the waterfall hid their movements, allowing them to climb a hidden stone staircase, cross a line of stepping stones, and then sneak up on the other side of the explorers. Alfred suddenly understood how the Atlanteans had surrounded them when they first arrived. He could hear Angelique talking and he peeked around a rock to see what she was doing. He saw her wipe sweat from her brow, leaving a line of grease. She looked exhausted.
"Ugh, that took hours," she complained. "And I still don't understand what went wrong. It looked like the trucks had been sitting there for months!" She sat down on the grass and sighed. "Any news?"
Antonio shook his head. "No, but they should be back soon," he predicted optimistically.
"I still don't know about this. The Atlanteans seemed really nice! And they loved my pasta," Feli added, muffling a sniffle. Alfred smiled to himself—Feli really did love anyone who loved his cooking. And then it occurred to him that he had actually been saved by Arthur's terrible sgonns because they stopped him from eating the pasta. He silently thanked the lumps of coal still being digested in his stomach.
Francis took a drag of his ever-present cigarette and shrugged. "At this point, it's the best choice. I don't want to be here when they wake up."
Alfred wanted to listen to more of their conversation, but he felt Arthur tugging on his shirt, pulling him down so that they were both completely hidden behind the rock. Alfred bit his lip and tried to think of a plan. He wondered if it was possible to animate the giant stone figures that surrounded the edge of Atlantis.
Arthur had a better idea: "If you take the two on the left, I'll handle the two on the right," the Atlantean suggested.
"No, there has to be a peaceful way to solve this," Alfred insisted, shaking his head. "These are my friends. Well, colleagues. Associates maybe?" He frowned, trying to come up with the right word to describe his relationship with the other explorers. They were often exasperated with him, but they also seemed genuinely fond of him at times. He was glad that they had refused to leave without him, although he wished they had mentioned their escape plan sooner. Apparently they were perfectly happy to drug him and carry him out of Atlantis if it made their escape easier.
"I don't think the name is important," Arthur replied, his expression a mixture of pity and sympathy. A guilty look crossed his eyes. "You're too kind for your own good, and people take advantage of it."
Alfred blinked and stared at the other man for a few moments. Gilbert taking advantage of him had come as a shock, and he started to wonder if Arthur was just using him too. No, he told himself, Arthur was different. Arthur had asked him for help and he had given it willingly. Considering the huge mistake he had made with Gilbert, it was the least he could do to balance the scales by helping his new Atlantean friend. He decided the best option was for him to talk with the others while Arthur stayed hidden. The plan lacked a few details, but Alfred had always been a big picture sort of guy. With Arthur's quasi-compliment (and perhaps semi-apology?) warming his heart, he climbed to his feet and walked toward the other explorers.
"Alfred, you're safe!" Feliciano cried out, running forward to wrap his arms around the taller blond. He looked like he had been crying, probably because his pasta had been used as a weapon. Alfred waved his hand and grinned at their shocked looks.
"So... what sort of priceless artifacts do you have hidden away in the trucks?" he asked, the smile hardening on this face.
"Just a few small statues, some decorated vases, a couple of blue diamonds, big ones," Francis replied, taking a casual drag of his cigarette.
Angelique kicked the Frenchman. "You're not supposed to tell him!"
"Well, I'm sure you'll all be fabulously wealthy," Alfred said, looking each of them in the eyes before he delivered his verbal blows. "And that's what you wanted... right? Francis, you can buy your girlfriends lots of flowers and tell them it was all paid for by stealing from a dying civilization. That's how you impress girls, yeah? I don't know, it's not really my area of expertise. Angelique, I'm sure your pop will be real proud of where you got the money for your machine shop. Antonio, were you the one who gave them the drugs for the pasta? And good job on cooking it, Feli. I didn't try any myself, obviously, but I'm sure it knocked their sandals off. Or maybe just knocked them out."
Feliciano sniffled and averted his gaze. One down, three to go. Alfred could tell that the soft-hearted Italian would stay on his side because Feli had always been more interested in food than money.
"We've done a lot of things we're not proud of," Francis admitted. He began ticking them off on his fingers, "Robbing graves, plundering tombs, double parking. But, nobody got hurt. Well, maybe somebody got hurt, but nobody we'd met."
"Do you usually rob the tombs while people are still living in them?" Alfred asked with a pointed glare. During his time with Arthur, he had subconsciously picked up on the other man's impressive glaring techniques. He wielded it like a weapon.
They all looked up in surprise as they heard Gilbert laugh. He and Monika had snuck up without anyone noticing. They crossed over the rope bridge, their hands resting on their guns. Gilbert continued walking towards Alfred and smirked. "Well, look what we have here. Academics... you never want to get your hands dirty. Think about it: if you gave back every stolen artifact from a museum, you'd be left with an empty building. We're just providing a necessary service to the archaeological community."
"That doesn't make it right," Alfred protested, gritting his teeth. He gave the others a pleading expression. "Is that how you feel? Are you just mercenaries?"
"Mercenary?" Gilbert snorted. "I prefer 'awesome adventure capitalist.' Besides, you're the one who brought us here. You're the one who led us to the treasure chest."
Alfred felt a stab of guilt, but he didn't back down. "You lied to me and I'm not going to help you any more."
Gilbert shrugged and turned to face the others. "Well, I'm not a dictator. If you want a smaller cut, we can put them all back and leave. It's your choice."
Alfred saw his opportunity to offer them a better option. "You know, Francis, I bet you could make a lot of money by writing a story about the trip. Sort of like Journey to the Center of the Earth," he suggested. "But it doesn't sound good if the heroes steal the treasure."
Francis rubbed his beard and nodded thoughtfully. "Women do like writers."
"Angelique... everyone will want to hire you once they hear about your skill with submarines. And they will, thanks to Francis's book!" She nodded. Alfred decided to twist the dagger. "Toni, you became a doctor to heal people, right?"
"Alfred's right. This is wrong," Antonio said, looking Gilbert squarely in the eye. The other three nodded their agreement. Alfred cheered on the inside, appreciating the victory for common decency. He should have guessed that it wouldn't last.
Alfred practically skipped down the walkway as he helped carry the stolen artifacts back to the island. The others were surprised by how much he could lift, but books were heavy and he had a lot of experience carrying those around. He hoped that Arthur was trailing them and watching appreciatively.
They quickly replaced the urns and statues. Alfred found himself separated from the others and realized too late that Gilbert was the only one standing behind him in the narrow corridor between stone buildings.
"Those were mere trinkets and we both know it," Gilbert whispered as he cocked his gun and pressed it against Alfred's back. "So you're going to take me to the real prize. The Heart of Atlantis."
Alfred squeezed his eyes tight and took a deep breath. He wasn't going to help Gilbert any more, no matter what the cost. "No," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
Gilbert sighed. "If you want to make this difficult... I'll take you down to the beach, count to ten, and then start killing them. One by one. I think I'll start by finding that Atlantean you're fond of."
Furious at the cold-blooded threats, Alfred whirled around and attempted to punch the Prussian in the face. The other man easily caught his fist and sent him flying backwards. Alfred hit the ground hard and felt the breath leave his body. He was suddenly terrified for himself and everyone else on the island. Gilbert continued to smile as he ambled closer, wearing his usual cheerful grin. Alfred tried to spot the monster lurking behind the other man's eyes with no success; he had to admit that Gilbert looked the same as always. He was too good at hiding the evil in his heart. Or perhaps, like a cat stalking a mouse, he didn't even believe himself to be evil.
Finding his breath, Alfred scrambled to his feet and raised his fists in a boxer's pose. Gilbert laughed at him. His laughter turned into a scream of pain as Arthur pounced on him from behind, stabbing him in the leg with a spear. Alfred jumped forward to help, giving Gilbert a few good kicks in the ribs before he found himself pummeled in the stomach and knocked to the ground. He looked up with blurry vision and saw that Monika had joined the fray. Still disoriented and gasping for breath, Alfred crawled forward and tried to grab Monika's boot before she could kick Arthur. Something was wrong with his depth perception, leaving him to grasp empty air.
Arthur held his own in the ferocious melee of bodies, punching and kicking as he avoided Gilbert and Monika's blows. He was nimble and stronger than his slim body suggested. Still, it was two against one, and Gilbert's injury made him even angrier. Arthur finally went down as Monika viciously pistol-whipped him across the face. She placed her boot on his neck to stop him from climbing back to his feet.
"Well, as usual, diplomacy has failed us," Gilbert said, wiping the blood from his nose. He ripped off part of his shirt and wrapped the bandage around his bleeding thigh. "Now, Alfred, I'm going to count to ten, and you're going to tell me where the Heart is." He pointed his gun at Arthur's prone body. "One... Two..."
Alfred shook his head, horrified at the idea of having to watch Arthur die in front of him. But he couldn't choose between protecting Arthur and protecting the Heart of Atlantis. The two were one and the same. He bit his lip, knowing that he had only eight seconds to make a plan. Whatever else he did, Alfred couldn't let Gilbert know that the Heart of Atlantis was right in front of him.
Gilbert, however, had a different idea, skipping straight to "Nine..."
"No!" Alfred screamed. "Izin-thams-ovis-king!" he shouted in a single breath, panicking and desperate to save Arthur's life.
Gilbert kept his gun pointed at Arthur. "Speak English," he growled.
Alfred gulped and slowly climbed to his feet. "It's in the arms of its king," he said. "I'm still not sure what that means," he admitted. That part was true at least.
"You're telling me that Atlantis hid its most priceless treasure with a riddle?" Gilbert scoffed and looked at Alfred like he was insane. Alfred knew that look well—he got it all the time, usually when he was talking about Atlantis.
Surprisingly, Monika jumped in to back up Alfred's claim. "Sir, it's an ancient civilization. They always use riddles." She lifted her boot off of Arthur's neck and gestured for Alfred to help the Atlantean to his feet.
Alfred nodded and stepped forward so that he could grab Arthur's arms and shoulder some of the other man's weight. The American heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that Arthur was still conscious and breathing. He hoped that Monika's blow hadn't caused any sort of permanent damage. Arthur looked dazed and his slightly vacant facial expression worried Alfred.
"Hey, are you okay?" Alfred whispered.
Arthur managed to focus on Alfred's face. "You have... wonderful eyes," he murmured. Alfred felt another surge of panic. He was leading two angry people with loaded guns on a wild goose chase and now he was convinced that Arthur had lost his mind.
Monika grabbed Arthur's arm, twisted it behind his back, and held her gun against Arthur's head. "Lead the way," she told Alfred, her voice cold and business-like.
They were so screwed.
Ten minutes, seven statues, and one angry German threat later, Alfred knew that he was running out of time and Gilbert was running out of patience.
Alfred had been leading them up the winding stairs towards the rotunda at the top of the island. The Atlanteans loved carving statues, which had given Alfred a barebones plan. All he had to do was find a statue of a man holding something in his hands. He would then claim that the statue was the King of Atlantis, making the object the Heart of Atlantis. Gilbert and Monika would leave with the useless object and everyone would be safe. It was a brilliant plan. Unfortunately, the statues weren't cooperating. Too many women and not enough outstretched hands.
"I don't suppose we could get the others to help us look?" Alfred asked Gilbert a little desperately. If nothing else, he wanted to know that his fellow explorers were okay. No one had come running when he screamed and he was worried about them.
Monika and Gilbert shared a chuckle. "I'm afraid they're all tied up," Monika added with a smug grin. Alfred realized what she meant, but he still felt a small surge of relief. Even though the others wouldn't be able to help him, at least they were okay.
As an additional sign that his luck had begun to improve, Alfred finally spotted the perfect statue for his plan. Unlike the others, this one wasn't covered in vines. Someone had been taking care of it. Alfred stepped closer, read the inscription "In loving memory of Queen Aliki," and instantly recognized the stone man with the thick eyebrows for what he was. This was the last Queen of Atlantis, if the history written at the center of the island was to be believed. And he held a carved mask in his hands.
Alfred grinned in relief and decided that it was close enough. "They built this to commemorate their last king," he announced, pointing at the stone man. He looked Gilbert straight in the eyes and prayed that the other man wouldn't be able to sense his lies. "That's where the Heart is. In his arms."
Arthur made an inarticulate noise of protest and gave everyone a murderous glare. Monika pulled him back, forcefully pressing her cold gun against his head. Alfred caught the other man's eye and silently pleaded with the Atlantean to trust him. He understood why Arthur was worried—Arthur still didn't know what the Heart really was. Or more accurately, who it really was. Alfred kicked himself for not explaining earlier.
All three watched as Gilbert jumped up to the base of the statue and pulled the mask out of stone hands. The Prussian smirked as he lifted up the stone mask. It had a carving of a face with thick gashes for eyebrows and two emeralds for eyes.
"I expected it to look prettier," Gilbert said as he jumped back to the ground. "And now you show me how it works."
Alfred knew that it wasn't a request. He gulped and nodded, his eyes wide. "Y-you put it directly under the crystal's light to activate the crystal's power," he said, pointing to the strange glowing crystal that floated above the island. It was big, shiny, and glowing, which was good enough to convince Gilbert that it was powerful. Alfred hoped that his stuttering would be mistaken for fear instead of lying through his teeth. If he and Arthur stood next to the pool in the rotunda, they could dive in and escape. He had read somewhere that bullets couldn't penetrate far under water. They would be safe in the hidden chamber beneath the rotunda.
Gilbert had a strange gleam in his eyes, and something about it sent a chill down Alfred's spine. The American stayed close to Arthur as the four of them climbed the steps into the rotunda. Gilbert's attention was focused on the mask in his hand, but Alfred could see out of the corner of his eye that Monika was still watching him closely and ready to shoot Arthur at the first sign of trouble.
The air hummed in excitement as Gilbert approached the edge of the round pool. Even at night, the water glowed, reflecting the light of the crystal. Alfred inched closer to the pool. All he needed was a few steps more and he would be able to grab Arthur and dive in.
"Stop right there," Monika shouted at Alfred. He lifted up his hands and stood stock-still.
Taking advantage of Monika's momentary shift in focus, Arthur jabbed the woman with his elbow, knocked away her gun, and ran forward to grab the stone mask out of Gilbert's hands. Alfred saw his chance. Without hesitating, he ran forward and tackled Arthur so that they both toppled over into the pool. As the fell, he heard a shot ring out and he saw the mask slip from Gilbert's fingers. And then everything disappeared.
Alfred opened his eyes and was greeted with the sight of Atlantis, shining in its full glory all around him. There were no cracks in the stone walkways or vines on the buildings. The people wore fancier clothes and more jewelry. But the strange part was that the entire island was completely silent and no one seemed to look at him. He wondered if he had become a ghost and started to shiver. In the distance, he could even see entire chains of islands filled with farms and orchards. Waves crashed onto the beach, becoming surf and turquoise seas in the distance beneath a cloudless sky. The entire island looked so beautiful that for a few moments Alfred completely forgot his fear of ghosts.
Something tugged on his leg and Alfred saw that he had a red string tied around his ankle. Curious, he followed it down to the beach, wrapping up the string as he walked. The string led him to Arthur, who was sitting on the beach, watching a swimming boy.
"What happened?" Alfred asked.
Startled, Arthur jumped to his feet and whirled around. "Alfred! You're bleeding," he said, pointing to Alfred's back.
Alfred touched his back and glanced down at the crimson staining his hand. Instead of pain, he felt oddly detached. "Oh, I didn't even notice. So... is this heaven?" He found the idea oddly comforting. Atlantis had always seemed like a paradise to him.
"I don't think we're dead," Arthur replied. He touched his own heart and then stepped close enough to press his hand against Alfred's chest. "Your heart is still beating." The Atlantean paused and smiled. "Rather quickly, I might add."
They both glanced up as a number of finely dressed Atlanteans spilled out onto the beach. One of them tossed off her robes and waded out to the swimming boy. She grabbed his ear and pulled him back to shore. The child ducked his head, but Alfred had enough time to see his thick eyebrows and green eyes. "Is that you?" Alfred asked in a hushed voice. "Weird. I always thought that I was supposed to see my own life flash in front of my eyes."
Instead of responding, Arthur followed the group as they returned to the collection of intricate buildings that perched on the top of this island. Alfred paused to gawk at the beautiful spires. He ran to catch up when he felt the string tugging him forward. Alfred and Arthur entered the courtyard together. Alfred blinked. Somehow it seemed like the boy was a few years older and now he sat beside a girl of approximately the same age. The two giggled together and shared a kiss in the dappled sunlight.
Scenes flickered past as the boy grew into a man. They watched him fall in love and get married. When he placed a crown on his wife's head, Alfred sensed another mystery of Atlantis unravel before his eyes. The power to control the Heart passed down the line of queens, and whomever the Queen married became the King.
"They're my parents," Arthur said, watching the couple with a shocked expression. He took one step forward and they found themselves watching the young couple cooing over a thick-browed baby with big green eyes.
"Gosh, you were cute," Alfred said, grinning at the baby's somber expression. "But never been much for smiling, have you?"
Arthur swacked Alfred in the shoulder and gave him a half-hearted glare. "Stop talking nonsense."
When they turned back to look at Arthur's father, he was kneeling on the ground, coughing up blood. Arthur's mother ran forward. People came and went, everyone looking shocked and afraid. They carried Arthur's father into a boat. Alfred and Arthur joined them on the short trip to a different island. This one looked familiar. And Alfred knew it was the surviving island when they walked under a waterfall and followed the dry tunnels into the secret chamber. But it wasn't empty. They stood in front of a glowing crystal surrounded by floating masks. It reminded Alfred of the sun-like object that bathed Atlantis in light. The crystal was kept in an underground cavern... the same one that he and Arthur had found at the center of the island.
"What's happening?" Arthur asked. It looked like his father stayed in a bed near the crystal and his mother came to visit him frequently. Although his father rarely changed clothes, she flickered through different outfits and seemed to grow older and more weary in front of their eyes. She brought Arthur during her visits and the change in the baby's age was even more remarkable. The child began to crawl and then toddle and was soon walking on his own. Alfred thought that little Arthur still looked pretty cute, but he decided not to mention it this time.
"Even the power of Atlantis wasn't enough to heal your father," he mused instead. "But it could create a bubble where time moves really slowly. A day or two for him would be a year for her. The crystal gave him immortality in the only way it could."
They both watched as Arthur's mother rushed into the room in a panic, Arthur in her arms. She gestured to the outside world and whatever was happening beyond the cavern walls must have been terrible given her frantic movements. The crystal glowed brighter, reacting to the danger and pulling Arthur towards it. The child looked calm as he began to glow, pulled by the light to float amongst the spinning masks. The walls shook. Suddenly a bright light filled the room and then everything was still.
Arthur's mother caught Arthur before his feet touched the ground and she wrapped the sleeping toddler in her arms. Alfred and Arthur followed the couple as they walked outside. What had once been a beautiful archipelago of islands was now just one island, encased in a dome of solidified magma. Alfred could see precisely how far the power of Atlantis extended—its effects marked by a shimmery blue glow. Arthur's mother gathered the panicked people into the rotunda at the top of the island.
After a whispered conversation between Arthur's parents—Alfred desperately wished he could hear what any of them were saying—Arthur's mother woke up little Arthur, put a crystal necklace in his hand, and gave him a short set of instructions. The toddler looked confused, but he lifted up the necklace, which glowed as he frowned in thought. The group looked briefly enraptured by the light, than blinked and resumed their discussions, though they looked slightly less frantic than before.
"There's something she's making them all forget," Arthur murmured, watching his past self closely. He gave Alfred an apologetic look. "I've been... less than honest with you. I knew about that power, I just didn't know how any of it was connected to the Heart. We don't let outsiders remember Atlantis because we're afraid they will try to steal the Heart or sell the information."
"That's sensible," Alfred admitted morosely, recognizing his own role in helping their worst fears come to pass. He could guess why the Atlantean felt guilty. "But Shepherd escaped with his journal, didn't he? And look where that got us. I led a band of plundering vandals to the greatest archeological find in recorded history."
"Don't be so harsh. You've also helped us rediscover our written language and history," Arthur replied, giving Alfred a grateful look. "And I've... enjoyed our time together. No one has ever eaten all my sgonns before."
Alfred smiled. Eating Arthur's terrible scones was a small price to pay to see the other man happy. He liked Arthur in a way he'd never liked anyone before. He wished he had realized it sooner. He touched his hand to the bullet wound in his back, worried that whatever power was showing them the memories would end soon. "Hey Arthur, could you do me a final favor?" he asked wistfully. "Could I have a kiss?"
They were in a small bedroom now, watching Arthur's father die. Surrounded by his wife and young son, the man held a familiar stone mask in his hands—a mask that resembled his own face. Even as Arthur and his mother cried, the man looked strangely at peace. And for the first time in the memory, a person spoke to them directly:
"This is for you, Arthur," Arthur's father said, holding out the mask. "The collective dreams and memories of all who came before us are preserved in the crystal. My burden is yours now. Protect the crystal. Save Atlantis."
The bedroom disappeared, leaving darkness behind. With a soft gasp, Alfred sank to the floor, scrunching his eyes as he suddenly felt jolts of pain shooting from his back. He opened his eyes to see that he and Arthur were in the underground cavern. He didn't understand how they had traveled from the round pool to the floor of the hidden cavern.
Arthur held the stone mask in his arms, staring at it with a shocked expression. He broke out of his daze a moment later, setting down the mask as he knelt next to Alfred. The Atlantean pressed his crystal necklace against Alfred's wound, wiping away the pain and replacing it with soothing numbness.
Arthur leaned closer and closer, and it wasn't until Alfred felt lips touching his own that he even realized it was a kiss. He closed his eyes, savoring the sweet and gentle feeling. He wished that it had occurred to him to kiss Arthur sooner. He really liked it. The kiss ended too soon, but it still left Alfred with a pleasant and tingling feeling in his belly. He opened his eyes just in time to see Arthur rising to his feet.
"All will be well," Arthur promised and, holding the stone mask, he stepped into the light.
. . .
Author's Notes
In Chinese mythology the red string of destiny connects to your ankle. I don't know why, but I like that image better than the little finger used in Japanese mythology.
A time difference question came up in the reviews, and wanted to provide a definitive answer for anyone who's worried: time slows down for Alfred too when he's in Atlantis. He and Arthur will age at the same rate provided they both stay in Atlantis. They'll also age at the same rate if they both leave. So they're okay as long as they stay together :)