Good morning and welcome back to my fun little time travel fic! Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, or reviewed! It means more to me than I can express in this brief author's note. In this chapter, we get our first interactions with sweet baby America. To avoid confusion, all non-dialogue text will refer to him as America and present-day America as Alfred. Note: Present-day America and Present-Day England call each other "America" and "England" most of the time. In the exact opposite, 1685 England and 1685 America are going to call each other "Arthur" and "Alfred" most of the time. I'm hoping this isn't too confusing. I'm sorry if it is! Thank you for reading! Please leave a review!
Chapter Four: An Encounter
The ship, now flying an English flag instead of the skull and crossbones, docked in Charles Town around noon, a few hours earlier than expected. Alfred and Arthur were refusing to talk to one another, something that had not gone unnoticed by England, who wondered what could have possibly happened to the two.
"Alright," England said, turning to face the two. He was dressed very differently than he had been the past few days onboard. He now wore buckled shoes, a dark green vest, and a fine brown coat despite the summer heat. His hair was still as wild as it ever was, but there was an obvious attempt to tame it. This was the England Alfred remembered, and he often found it hard to look away from him.
Next to him, Arthur was in one of England's other outfits because "we can't both look so completely out of sorts, no one will sell anything to us." Arthur was wearing an older brown coat with a brown vest and the brown boots England had worn on board. His hair was also being pushed back. He also looked like the England Alfred remembered, and it made him feel very awkward.
"This is where I leave you, for now," England said, having already given them a certain amount of money to buy more clothing. "I have sent a man to procure a room for you at the Church Street Inn. I'll meet you there tomorrow morning to head back to my house."
"Alright, sounds delightful," Arthur said, nodding. "We will meet you there tomorrow morning."
"Yes, we will," Alfred said assertively. "Thank you," he added.
With a slight nod, England left to go handle official business as an empire and a gentleman. Standing behind him on the dock were Arthur in clothes he hadn't worn in three hundred and fifty years and Alfred in an old dingy shirt and blue jeans.
"Alright come-" Arthur started but was cut off by Alfred.
"Come on, then," he said, petty, rushing to beat Arthur to say the phrase. Alfred walked off the dock and turned to the right continuing to stomp on until he realized that Arthur was not behind him. He turned to see Arthur at the end of the dock with his arms crossed and a triumphant expression on his face. "What?" Alfred demanded.
"We went that way to buy your clothes," he said, smiling. "Not mine. And I think you'll find you won't be able to wear clothes from there anymore. That seamstress specialized in children's clothes."
"Shut up," Alfred said, walking back across the dock and past Arthur. Arthur laughed and followed him down the cobbled stone streets of Charles Town under the hot summer sun.
They left having bought clothes that they could take out of the store. As Arthur had been a regular customer at the time, there were already some clothes made to his size specifications. However, Alfred had to buy some long, loose-fitting garments that would have looked very good had they been allowed to be tailored. Instead, they just made Alfred look even younger than he actually was.
Alfred now wore a long blue coat which he had purchased with a pointed look at Arthur. It was the only part of his ensemble that fit well, and Arthur hated that. He wore a brown vest that was much too big over a new cleaner shirt and brown pants with black buckled shoes.
The majority of the clothing they were having sent to the house, except for the clothes Alfred was wearing and a long black cloak Arthur insisted on carrying with him. Alfred was insistent upon not speaking to Arthur but the longer they walked the more he kept looking between the cloak and Arthur. "Fuck, fine," he groaned.
"What?" Arthur asked, surprised by the sudden outburst.
"Why the cloak? Why? It's August in South fucking Carolina. Why the hell would you need a cloak?"
Arthur looked at him, confused for a moment before he began to smile and then laugh. "Is it really bothering you that much?"
"Yes! You don't need it! You didn't need to buy it!"
Arthur held it and shrugged, ready to continue bantering when Alfred stopped walking. "What?" he asked, following Alfred's line of sight. There in front of Alfred was a small blonde boy walking carefully through the streets, holding a package in his hands as if it were the most precious thing he had ever encountered.
The sight of the boy almost brought Arthur to his knees and brought tears to his eyes. "My God," he whispered.
Close behind the boy, there was a group of men walking and talking loudly. Alfred jerked back out of his reverie. "That's them! That's the men! Today's the day!" he said, so excited that he forgot he was mad at Arthur for a moment and grabbed his shoulder.
"Well, let's go, then," Arthur said, waiting until the men were an appropriate distance away. "After all, this is the entire reason we're here."
Arthur walked in long strides down the road with Alfred stumbling after him. For the majority of the walk, the two were completely silent. They were such a distance back that when the road became a dirt path surrounded by trees, little America had already hidden. Alfred grabbed Arthur's arm again. "Hold on, wait," he looked around for a moment. "I'm right there," he said, pointing to a bush about thirty yards in front of them and fifteen yards in front of the men. "It should happen like any second now," Alfred said, bracing himself and watching as the men walked right past his hiding spot and continued without any interaction. Alfred stood up straight. "Wait what?" he asked. "That's not what happened!"
Arthur watched the scene with a thoughtful expression before turning to look at Alfred. "Go, you'll have to do it."
"Stop volunteering me for things! You can't tell me what to do!" Alfred started, causing Arthur to roll his eyes when Alfred added, "I'll have to do what?"
"Well, none of those men bothered you. You remember that they did. So someone did. Go do it." Arthur stated, calmly and matter-of-fact, as if he were talking through an equation.
Alfred looked almost offended. "This gave me nightmares when I was little. I am not going to do it."
"Fine," Arthur said, leaning back against a tree. "But now you are changing the timeline so…"
"Are you trying to tell me that if I don't go give myself nightmares I could potentially lose the Revolutionary War?" Alfred asked, exasperated.
"I don't know for sure, probably not, but potentially," Arthur said. "Which is fine by me, so please, don't talk to him." If looks could kill, Arthur would have been dead. "Not to mention, if he isn't bothered then he takes the shaving kit with him and then we have no reason for being here because you wouldn't need to remember this. It would create a paradox. And who knows what that would do to us?"
Alfred continued staring a hole through Arthur before he threw his arms down and looked away. "Why can't you do it?" Alfred whined.
"Think for a moment, I know that's hard for you. But please, for a moment, just think."
"He would recognize you. Fuck!" Alfred yelled. He looked down the path where the men were disappearing behind the corner. He squared his shoulders and tightened his jaw. "Give me that fucking cloak," he said, ripping the fabric out of Arthur's hands. He tied it around his neck and pulled the hood up over his eyes. "One last thing," Alfred said, completely in a British accent. "How does this sound?"
Arthur was completely taken aback for a moment by the sound of Alfred speaking in such a good replication of his own accent. "Surprisingly good," Arthur said after a moment. "Why are you doing it though?"
Alfred cocked an eyebrow and said in a mocking imitation of what Arthur had just said - British accent and all - "Think for a moment, I know that's hard for you. But please, for a moment, just think," Arthur opened his mouth as if to say something angry in response but Alfred cut him off before he could even begin with an explanation. "He may not recognize me now, but if I meet him tomorrow after I've done this he'll be scared and it'll probably make like old you mad." Arthur shrugged. Alfred had a valid point, for once.
Alfred stared at Arthur for a moment longer before turning around to talk to his younger self. "Oi! You there!" Alfred yelled loudly in his best impression of Arthur. America jumped and spun around, blue eyes wide and fearful.
"Uh, yes, sir?" the little boy squeaked out. Arthur felt his heart clench. If he thought he could've cried before, that didn't even compare to hearing America's voice and seeing the scared expression on his face. Arthur just wanted to walk out there, scoop the boy up, and take him home.
"What are you doing out here all alone?" Alfred demanded. I hate this I hate this I hate this he thought, looking down at himself. It was uncomfortable and surreal and made Alfred feel like he was dreaming or maybe dead. Honestly, maybe I'm in Hell.
"I," the little boy started, looking down at his feet and back up. "I was just going for a walk."
"Going for a walk, huh?" Alfred said, not even having to think about what to say. He remembered well enough what had been said to him that he could just repeat it. Okay, I know Iggy said it was okay, but I've watched Back to the Future enough times to know that this feels kinda fucky.
America smiled largely and nodded. "Yep! A walk! And then I saw a cat in a tree over there," the boy said, an obvious liar. "And so I had to run off the path to save it!" He nodded his head, looking very proud of himself.
Alfred tilted his head down further, hiding his face from his younger self the best he could. "Liar," he said, coldly as he could manage. America's face fell. "Aren't you Arthur Kirkland's boy?" he asked, mentally screaming because those words had left his mouth. This is the worst day of my life, and I've had some really fucking bad days.
America nodded, eyes widening even more. "Yes, sir."
"How do you think Mr. Kirkland would feel about you lying and sneaking out on the staff and hiding around here all on your own?" Alfred demanded, knowing exactly what the young boy had just done. Mr. Kirkland? Alfred thought to himself. I am NEVER saying that again.
"He wouldn't like it," the boy mumbled.
"No, he wouldn't," Alfred stated firmly. "You should go home now."
"I will," America said, eyes darting to the bush he had just been hidden in. "Promise."
Alfred took a deep breath. What he was about to do felt uber-creepy and the last thing he wanted to do was creep on little past him. "Well, go on then. I'm watching," he said.
America's face became scared. "What?"
"I'm going to watch you get home. How could I trust you? Go."
America turned around and began walking. Once he was about ten yards ahead, Alfred began to follow him. Up ahead, the little boy had tears in his eyes and his hands clenched in firsts. He was humiliated. First, he was having to march home in front of this stranger, and second, he had to leave his present for Iggy behind! He would have to sneak out again tomorrow now!
They walked up to a decent-sized home about a mile outside of the town. Trees were surrounding the road up to the door and there was a decent garden in front of the home with flowers of all kinds. America turned around to see Alfred leaning on a tree at the end of the road. Alfred was so caught up in staring at the house that he almost forgot what he was doing. "Uh, go in, then," he said, accidentally dropping the British accent.
America gave him one last long look, twisted his face into a pout, and ran inside the house with tears streaming down his little face. Once inside, he would run up to Arthur's room and climb into his bed and cry. Alfred knew that because he remembered it. Arthur's room had been one of his favorite places. It was where he felt closest to Arthur when he wasn't there. Nothing could hurt him if he was in Arthur's room.
Alfred stayed for a moment, leaning on the tree and looking up at the house that had once been his home before turning around and walking back to meet Arthur about five hundred feet back.
Alfred slid the cloak off of him and handed it back to its owner. "I hated that," Alfred said, calmly, and walked on ahead in front of Arthur back towards Charles Town.
There was an obvious change in Alfred's demeanor that had Arthur concerned, even if they were supposed to be fighting right now. "Is everything alright?"
"Just shut up, dude," Alfred said, walking on ahead of Arthur, notably taking a different walking path back into town. "I just want to go home," he said tiredly, unaware if he meant back to his home in Washington D.C. in 2020 or if he meant back to a time when the word was wide, possibilities were endless, and Arthur's bedroom was the safest place on earth.