Arthur could not bring himself to visit Alfred the next day. He quickly reverted to old habits and spent the day losing himself in work: upset, distraught, and wondering what the hell he was doing deliberately staying away from Alfred. Arthur always hoped that the noise and commotion of the pub would take his mind off everything. It never did. While some part of him recognised that he was trying to avoid the same soul crushing hurt he had just gone through, he knew at the same time that all he was doing was hurting himself more. Arthur barely slept that night, stunned at how much he missed Alfred after one day, and feeling desperately guilty for breaking his promise to visit.

Arthur woke early the next day, determined to visit Alfred before opening the pub. He stood inside his front door, glaring at it, trying to work up the courage to walk out of it, when it suddenly slammed open and he jumped in surprise. Then he choked back a gasp when Alfred walked through it and stood right in front of him. Dressed once again in his uniform and bomber jacket, his cap at an angle on his head, Alfred was like a vision out of one of Arthur's all too frequent dreams. Only he was wearing glasses. Arthur stared at him, stunned. "What are you… but… I…" He had no idea what to say. "I thought I locked that door!"

"Why didn't you come back?"

Arthur almost took a step back from the fiery look in Alfred's eyes. "Alfred, it was only one day, I… I was just upset when that officer said they were…" Arthur blinked a few times. "…sending you home."

Alfred looked incredulous. "Arthur, I was always going to go back to America one day. You must have known that."

The sudden pain in Arthur's chest was overwhelming. But of course. It never meant anything to Alfred. He was always planning to go home and leave him. Arthur could almost feel his heart breaking. But he just narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to respond angrily, to shout and scream and yell at Alfred to leave then, go back to America and never come back. But Alfred continued before he had the chance.

"But didn't I promise that I would always come back to you?"

All the hurt and anger suddenly deflated and Arthur was left just feeling confused. "Pardon?"

"You're a damned sensitive guy at times, Arthur, for all you try to act so tough." Alfred sighed and his eyes softened. "Not that I don't understand it. Yesterday, I waited and waited and when you didn't turn up, I… I thought…" Alfred broke off and looked down at the floor, blinking rapidly. "I thought you must be done with me."

Arthur gasped. He'd never heard a more preposterous notion. "Done with you? How could you even…"

"You were always trying to leave. And you never wanted to touch me. And…"

"There were guards outside your room twenty-four hours a day - if I didn't touch you it was because I was afraid of arousing suspicion! Of course I wanted to touch you, I thought I made that perfectly clear in that bloody cupboard! I've been positively aching to touch you…"

Then it suddenly hit them both at the same time. What the hell were they talking about? Why did any of it matter? They were alone. No doctors, no nurses, no guards... After a second's pause that felt like an hour, Arthur fell desperately against Alfred, who grasped him so frantically he nearly lifted him off the ground. Their lips met almost violently, teeth clashing, and Arthur choked back a moan at the feeling of completion and relief. This wasn't a stolen kiss in a hallway cupboard. This was every ounce of longing and desire Arthur had held for so long pouring out at once. This was the culmination of all those months of waiting and fear and loneliness. This was what he had longed for for so long and so much that it felt like the only thing in the world he had ever wanted. Alfred in his arms, kissing him, wanting Arthur like Arthur wanted him; no one to stop them and nothing between them. This almost couldn't be real.

Alfred broke away just long enough to say, "I was so worried you wouldn't come back."

Arthur shook his head in disbelief and pulled Alfred back down into the kiss. After a few moments Alfred broke it again.

"Now that I'm not a fighter pilot…"

That got Arthur to pause. He stared up at Alfred incredulously. "You think I fell in love with you because you were a pilot?"

"Well, it's just… I was somebody important, and now I'm useless and, and…" Alfred seemed to search for something else to say. "…and I have to wear these stupid glasses," he finished. Arthur almost laughed, but Alfred just looked so lost. Arthur had forgotten how young he could seem at times.

"Alfred, you are quite the biggest fool I have ever met. I don't care about something so absurdly trivial as what you do for a living. How could you ever think that you're not important?"

Alfred shrugged and sighed. "I don't know, I guess I just worked myself up walking here from the hospital…"

Arthur's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. How the hell had he not realised it?! "Wait, wait…" he said frantically, "The hospital! They've let you out of the hospital!" Arthur paused and his stomach fell. Of course. This must be goodbye. He let his hands drop from Alfred's arms. When Alfred said he had to go home one day Arthur hadn't realised he meant so soon. "They're sending you home already."

"No." Alfred shook his head firmly. "I'm not going anywhere just yet."

Arthur was sure he had misheard. "I beg your pardon?"

"You think I'd let them send me away from you, now, when I only just got you back? I'd never let them. I'd never let anyone." Arthur felt a thrill of joy run through him at the words. Alfred laughed breathlessly. "They finally agreed to let me stay in England... not that I gave them much of a choice."

"But… what will you be doing?" asked Arthur, finally looking up into Alfred's eyes, his chest swelling with hope.

"Training. Apparently they're low on flight instructors. Can you believe it? The military is actually letting me train British pilots!"

Arthur shook his head, wide-eyed. "God help the English nation."

Alfred's eyes narrowed. "Huh, what do you mean by…"

"Shut up, Alfred." Arthur grasped the back of Alfred's head and pulled him into a forceful kiss. Alfred responded by crushing Arthur's chest to his and, slightly off balance, they fell back against the wall. Arthur didn't pause. He couldn't. Nothing could make him stop now. Hearing those words, knowing Alfred was staying with him, feeling him in his arms… Arthur had never imagined such happiness was possible. It was almost too much to take. Arthur pressed back and brought Alfred with him as they slid down the wall, entangled, their lips still joined. They landed heavily but Arthur barely noticed. Their lips finally parted when Arthur fell onto his back and Alfred fell over him, holding himself up with his arms.

"Wait," said Alfred breathlessly. "Are you…"

"Can't wait… can't stop…" Arthur reached up and brought Alfred's lips back to his. It had been too long, for both of them. Arthur pulled desperately at their clothes but only just managed to unbutton his trousers before Alfred's lips, his breath, his touch, this overwhelming reality overcame him. It had been too long, this was too close, it was too much. One brush of Alfred's hand and it was over in one intense, overpowering moment. Alfred followed immediately, clutching onto Arthur's hips with sweat-soaked hands before he shuddered and moaned into Arthur's ear. He hadn't even managed to unbutton his pants.

After taking a minute to catch his breath, Arthur burst into laughter, closely followed by Alfred. But Arthur quickly gasped and shot upright, concerned… Alfred had only just left hospital, what the hell was he doing dragging him onto the floor! "Oh bloody hell, are you all right?"

Alfred just kept laughing. "I've never been more all right in my entire life." He pulled Arthur back down and kissed him again. Arthur decided to believe him. After all, he felt the same way.

Eventually they lay getting their breath back. It should have been uncomfortable lying on the floor, but it wasn't. Arthur felt he could lay there forever.

"Do you know," said Alfred breathlessly, "This is the table where we first met."

Arthur looked up and realised that they had landed right beside the table by the second front window - the same table Alfred always chose to sit at. "It is?"

"Yeah, I remember it perfectly. And the first thing you ever said to me…" Alfred furrowed his brows and twisted his face into a furious expression before shouting, "'Get the bloody hell down from that bloody table you stupid bloody Yank!'"

Arthur thought for a moment. "Oh yes, I did say that, didn't I?"

"You always did swear too much. Terrible language, really," said Alfred, shaking his head, though he seemed to be trying not to laugh. Arthur just glared at him. Alfred didn't appear to notice. "Do you remember that, Arthur? The first night we met?"

Arthur couldn't hold back a snort of laughter. "Remember? How could I possibly forget? You barged through the door, introduced yourself as the man who was going to save England, then proceeded to drink an entire bottle of bourbon, attempt to start a fight with a chair, and end the night by passing out on top of the bar." How could Arthur ever forget the day that his life had turned upside down? "I can't believe it's been a year since then." It felt like yesterday... but at the same time it felt like a lifetime ago.

Alfred laughed and pulled himself into a sitting position against the wall. "I was in a good mood that night. I'd just fallen in love."

Arthur peered up at Alfred and tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in his chest. "That is embarrassingly sentimental."

"Why are you smiling like that then?"

"I'm laughing at you."

"No you're not."

"Shut up, Alfred." But Arthur was still smiling when Alfred pulled him against his chest and put an arm around him.

Arthur lost track of how long he just sat there, leaning against the wall with Alfred, their bodies pressed together and their breathing slowly returning to normal. The sun rose high in the sky through the window. The morning marched slowly on, time running past them, with nothing they could do to stop it. Arthur finally broke the tranquil silence with a question that had been bothering him for days. It came out more like a statement. "It wasn't the resistance who freed you, was it."

Alfred's breath hitched. Arthur didn't dare to look up at him. "Not really, no." At that, Arthur glanced up quizzically. "It was Ludwig."

"Ludwig?" Arthur's eyebrows furrowed for a moment before he remembered where he had heard that name. Of course, Alfred's letters, the ones he had read a hundred times. Ludwig was the German fighter pilot who had been captured, the one with the photo, the one who was loved by an Italian resistance fighter. "Ohh. Why? How?"

Alfred took a deep breath. His arm tightened around Arthur while his other hand grasped for Arthur's own. Arthur took it and squeezed reassuringly. Alfred sat in silence for a moment before he finally started speaking. "When I was captured, after a certain point, I don't remember a lot of it. I'm grateful for that. It all just sort of blurred into a haze of pain and nightmare." Arthur clutched even tighter to Alfred's hand. "I should have been sent to a P.O.W camp, but they seemed to think I had collaborated with the Italian resistance movement. I don't know what they thought I knew. I don't know what they wanted me to tell them. But I told them nothing and they eventually moved me to a new base. I remember being brought in, and that's when I saw the German pilot again. I will never forget that face."

Alfred broke off, his eyes unfocused. After a few moments he continued. "One afternoon, I was handed over to the Gestapo, and... and..." Alfred's voice was low and strained, like the words were painful for him to get out. They were painful for Arthur to hear. "...and I don't want to talk about that afternoon," Alfred finished in a whisper, his eyes almost blank as they gazed unseeing at the floor.

Again Alfred paused and Arthur waited patiently. He knew how difficult this must be for Alfred. He had barely spoken of his experience in captivity, and Arthur preferred it that way. The few allusions he had made to the matter just tore at Arthur's heart. He couldn't bear to hear about the hell Alfred had gone through just because the SS wanted information that he didn't even possess. But Arthur stayed silent, determined to listen to anything that Alfred had to say.

"But that night, when everyone had finally finished with me, Ludwig came into my room. I thought I was dreaming. But I wasn't, he was really there, and he took me out of the base. I don't know how long he walked with me on his back... I could barely move, you see. It turns out he spoke English, and he kept trying to keep me awake. He asked me about you. We spoke about soccer and baseball. And I remember at one point we had a conversation about frogs." Alfred suddenly looked at Arthur and spoke brightly. "Did you know that there is a species of frog in South America that has enough poison to kill two thousand people?"

Arthur shook his head, slightly startled by this random change in topic. "No. I did not know that."

"Neither did I. Huh. Well, apart from those things, it is mostly all a blur. But eventually there were other people, and I recognised some of them too... Even though we couldn't have been near their village, Rome was there, and Lovino. But I don't remember seeing Feliciano. Then Ludwig disappeared and the next thing I know I woke up in an American base." Alfred shrugged. "And there you have it. After that it was just months of recovery at the base before weeks stuck on a hospital ship." Alfred sighed. "I can't imagine what would happen to Ludwig if the German military found out what he did."

Arthur sat in silence, trying to process what he had just heard. "I can't believe it. A German rescued you! What on earth… why..."

"Arthur, I…" Alfred took a deep breath and looked down at his hands. Arthur waited silently. "The reason Ludwig was free in the first place was... Well, earlier, when Ludwig was our prisoner, I... I gave Feliciano classified information. Information about how and where Ludwig was being held. A few days later we heard he had been broken out. Feliciano must have done it. And as soon as I heard I knew it was my fault. If I hadn't given Feliciano that information he would never have managed it. I helped an enemy escape. Heck, I may as well have busted him out of there myself."

"Oh, Alfred." Alfred truly was the most good, kind, stupid man Arthur had ever met.

"I betrayed my country." Alfred spoke in a whisper, staring at his hands, lost and frightened and devastated.

"No!" Arthur met Alfred's eyes and shook his head. "You helped one man - a good man. A man who later helped you. You didn't betray anyone."

"I know it was wrong. He was our enemy, he was a prisoner. But Feliciano was so good and sweet and he loved Ludwig so much and… and I let all these stupid feelings get in the way of my duty." Alfred looked up, wide-eyed, into Arthur's eyes and whispered, "Arthur, if anyone ever knew…"

Arthur squeezed Alfred's hand reassuringly. "They never will," he said firmly. "It's all right. They never will." Arthur could not tell Alfred he had done nothing wrong. But neither could he blame him or judge him. "Listen, Alfred, if you had not done what you did, you would not have been rescued yourself. You'd have been..." Arthur did not need to finish that sentence. "Ludwig may be an enemy, but… I'm bloody grateful to him." Arthur tried to think through it all. Alfred had helped Ludwig escape, and Ludwig had done the same thing for Alfred. It was all so incredible. "What happened to Feliciano?"

Alfred shrugged sadly. "I don't know. But he's a resistance fighter. Ludwig is a German officer. I really do hope that he and Ludwig can be happy somehow. But I just don't see how that could ever happen."

Silence fell once again. Arthur held onto Alfred's hand and thought how incredibly bloody lucky he really was. Against all the odds, Alfred had come back to him. Although he may be heading back to the states, and though they may never be able to be open about their feelings, and though they would always have to hide in their love in secrecy, it was still possible - it was really possible for them to love each other and in some way to be together. But somewhere miles away, stuck in the middle of a war and a situation they could never control, there were two good men who could never do the same, even though they loved each other just as much. It was so unfair.

Arthur was not sure how long they simply sat quietly together. Though at first Arthur felt he could lie against the wall with Alfred forever, eventually he twisted awkwardly, and the hard wall behind him started to dig into his back. "Alfred, I'm afraid this is becoming rather uncomfortable."

"You're absolutely right. We need to move immediately."

"I completely agree."

Alfred winked, and Arthur's heart jumped. "I think your bed would be a heck of a lot more comfortable than this floor."

Arthur couldn't agree more.