At the back of the Kirkland mansion, was a little summerhouse. It was round and supported by a series of ornate pillars, around which grew climbing ivy and roses. Arthur Hindley Kirkland, who was known as Hindley, would go there at dusk sometimes to play his guitar and that night was no exception. The storm had passed, and the new guest was asleep in the back bedroom, and so as he sun went down over the deserted fields, he went to play, to be alone, to calm his worried mind. He took his guitar and started to play, just the most beautiful tune, one that echoed through the summerhouse, and could be heard in the halls of the great mansion.

"The master has a way with that guitar doesn't he Mr Townsend." Sighed Mrs Bailey as she cleaned up in the kitchen.

"He has indeed…" Townsend replied. "He asked me to find out if we had a letter or commendation for the man who got hurt on the road… I found nothing. It's strange but the master seems different towards this one… I can't quite put my finger on why…"

"Oh… perhaps I have an idea…" Said Mrs Bailey knowingly. Townsend looked at her nonplussed, he had no idea what she meant, but she had seen the way her master looked at that man and knew what it was. Mrs Bailey was going to wash the clothes and looked in the pockets, and there, inside Francis' inside suit pocket was an old sepia toned photograph of himself with what looked like their master. "Mr Townsend..." She gasped "What is this?"

Francis awoke in the back bedroom, to the sound of beautiful guitar playing somewhere in the distance. The fire was burning in the hearth but dying down a little and the sun was setting, casting its shadows around the room. The storm was gone, but his head still hurt terribly. As he lay there it all started to come back to him. He'd been trapped in the machine and something happened, and now, he was here, in this place. It was the Kirkland mansion alright, that was for certain, but it was different. It was not the freezing hellhole that he had become used to, but a warm and well-kept home. How could this have happened? He went over and over the events in his mind, but it didn't make any sense. He'd been trampled half to death by a horse, and now lay in this room recovering and being watched over by…by Arthur… but it wasn't Arthur it was… someone else, someone who looked exactly like him, who bore the same name, who had the same eyes, and yet… was it really not him? The gentle strumming sounds of the master playing his guitar could be heard and he couldn't help but think it was incredibly beautiful. He'd never heard a song like it and wondered if perhaps he'd composed it himself. Francis dragged himself out of the bed, despite the pain in his head and went to the window, where he could see over to the little summerhouse. The master was indeed in there, sitting on a ledge and playing his guitar. As he watched him, Francis couldn't help but feel something unusual, as if… somehow, he knew the man, but he couldn't possibly know him. He looked like Arthur and even moved like him, but he had to believe that wasn't him? Impossible. He watched him for some time, just sitting there making his music, and occasionally he would get up and walk around a little. The master was a very deep individual, extremely talented and yet he seemed to want to be alone most of the time, which was why he needed this time to himself. As he finished his guitar playing Francis hid behind the curtain a little when the master glanced upward, though he was confident that he hadn't seen him. As Arthur Hindley turned away Francis' heart leapt a little when he saw that he'd raised a hand to his eyes and his shoulders were shivering a little. Something hurt that poor man, something deep by the looks of it. Whatever it was, must have inspired the beautiful music he had been playing there. As the master went back inside the butler stopped him and took him to one side. "There was no letter of commendation from anyone about him Sir." He said "Although Mrs Bailey and I… we did find something unusual in his pocket… and I thought you might like to see, because I can't explain it Sir…" he said and produced the photograph. Frowning, he took it and made his way up the stairs.

Francis managed to get back to bed, and the pain seemed to subside a little. He was still very confused as to how he could be here in this mansion. It was impossible, but could he really have gone back in time? He was very surprised when there was a polite knock at the door and the master entered.

"I do hope I'm not intruding…" He began. "But I can't seem to find any letter of commendation for you Mr er... Francis…" He said. "I am at a loss as to why you were out there on the road, and clearly coming to see me. Do you remember anything?" He asked, "Anything at all?"

"I… am afraid I am not sure I know what has happened to me…." Francis said, genuinely frightened, and yet comforted by the very presence of Hindley.

Arthur Hindley produced the strange photograph as he sat beside the bed. "This is going to sound very strange… Francis… so if it doesn't make any sense… I'm sorry." He said quietly. "I'm not what you call a normal human being… what I am is hard to explain. You see, I… am the representation of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland."

Francis didn't say anything at first but continued to listen.

"I know that sounded odd…" He said "But so was my father, and so will my son be… generations of us… retaining most of the memories of our predecessors… and somehow I think I remember you from somewhere and yet… I couldn't…" He uttered trying not to sound crazy but that was impossible. "Sometimes we forget things here and there, but when one dies, the memories transfer to the son…" He said.

The situation sounded so familiar to Francis, after all he was exactly the same. "Monsieur… you describe a situation that is familiar to me…" He said. "For I am the representation of France… my name is Francis Bonnefoy, and I am very pleased to meet you."

A half smile graced Arthur Hindley's face and he bit his lip a little "So I do know you, or at least… my predecessors did… that must be why I'm so fascinated by you." He continued. "It had to be something like that… and I wasn't sure how you would respond to that family secret…" He said and handed him the photograph. "But what cannot be explained is this photograph, with next years date on it. This is from the future, and that is you with me… so… what happened?"

"It is very hard to explain…" Francis said "You might not believe me…"

"I can try." Arthur Hindley replied.

"In the future, in the year 1946, your descendent Arthur, he is a genius. You should be very proud of him." Francis replied. "He built a … machine…"

"A machine?" He asked. "What kind of machine…?"

"It is hard to define Monsieur…" Francis replied. "He wanted to bring to life his long dead family, because he was the last of … the Kirklands…" he continued. "Instead it seems to be working in a different way, because you are alive, but I have been sent back in time, instead of your corpse being um… resurrected…"

Arthur Hindley looked at him in a sort of shock or disbelief, it was hard to tell.

"You do not believe me…" Francis said and sighed.

"I … do… in a way… but… what I don't understand is why the future Arthur didn't get himself a wife or settle down or have children… I mean… is something wrong with him?"

"No… at least not biologically, I mean… not that there is anything wrong with him at all… he just didn't want to be with a woman or have children with a woman." Francis said, giving a look to Arthur Hindley, and trying to hint that his future ancestor was a homosexual.

Arthur Hindley wasn't an idiot and he got it straight away, and maybe even understood it because he found himself attracted to a man, at least one man in particular, the one he was sitting and talking to at this very moment. Finding out the truth about him was amazing, for he had been alone for so long and to find someone who was just like him… a nation… it felt wonderful. What he couldn't do was open up and tell him this, after all, in his life he had always been told that attraction towards another man was sinful. It was wrong, he would be punished, and even sent to jail, it was a terrible crime. He thought to himself for a moment, for although he knew he couldn't tell this beautiful man how he was feeling, at least he could let him stay.

"Francis…" He began. "There may be no way for you to return to your time… at least none that I can think of." He said "But… I would be honoured if you would stay here, in my home, and perhaps we can think of something. I know this offer is somewhat out of the blue, but would you consider it?"

Francis thought about it for a moment. He truly was trapped in this past, and it was frightening, and he didn't know what he was going to do. Having this offer from Hindley was a good thing, it was something his mind could cling on to, in order to make sense of this strange reality. What was more, was that he was finding himself more attracted to Arthur Hindley than he ever had been towards his Arthur, it was disturbing but beautiful at the same time. He gazed at him for a moment, looking into his deep green eyes intently.

"I would be very much grateful for that Monsieur Arthur…." He replied. "You have no idea how very much afraid I feel…"

"You are afraid?" Arthur asked as he stared back into the eyes of Francis, finding himself completely lost in them. Instinctively he reached out and held the Frenchman's hand, wanting to tell him not to be afraid, but as he tried to speak, he remembered that being attracted to a man is wrong, it is sinful. He heard the voices of his parents in his head, telling him how wrong it was. How could something this wonderful be wrong? And yet it was. He pulled his hand away, and stopped himself from speaking, looking down at the floor in shame. "I… I…" he started to say but couldn't say anything in the end. Instead he sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. Should he be sending this man away? Would that stop these feelings? He didn't want to send him away, and besides he was hurt. He calmed himself and looked up. "You… um… get well and I'll make sure you have clothes and food and uhh… then we can set about seeing how if at all… we can get you back to your time." He uttered before standing up.

"Arthur…" Francis said quickly as he grabbed his wrist. Arthur looked at his hand on his wrist and to him, wanting so much to lean forward and kiss him but it was wrong… wasn't it? The Frenchman eventually let go. He smiled and nodded before leaving the room.

Francis watched him leave, knowing they had shared a moment. He breathed heavily, his eyes full of longing, his chest heaving. Why had this Arthur not gone with his feelings that were so obviously there?

Outside the bedroom, Arthur Hindley was in turmoil. He felt such deep feelings for Francis, and yet he knew they could never be realised, because it was sinful, it was Evil. Wasn't that what his parents said? Wasn't that what the law said? He leaned against the wall, his own chest heaving also. What wouldn't he do to be able to at least kiss that fine man in there? What was wrong with him? He'd never felt this way, not even for Alice, his dear departed wife. Guilt consumed him, and he stood there shaking, and before he knew it, tears were wetting his cheeks. It surprised him, that he was crying, and he looked around to make sure no one was there, and he was glad that no servants had seen his distress.

"Must resist…" He sighed, knowing that was going to be difficult. All he knew was, that however Francis had got there, whether it was really time travel or something else, the only person he had to rely on was him.

My theory about the nations in this is not cannon, its just a theory.

I would appreciate a review thank you. xx