Now did you think I abandoned you guys?

NO.

Ah, okay. I'll be honest, falling out of the writing aspect of this site. These were all typed up a while ago...I still have ideas but I get very tired and bored with putting them into story format. God, I wish I'd have someone just type for me...

but that wouldn't really be fair. Meh...

Anyway, here's a chapter. :)

The next thing Arthur remembered was a hazy and dim. Oddly enough he didn't feel any pain, or any type of illness, which he most likely would have after laying in that alley for so long.

He immediately found himself among a very organized and disciplined crowd. He tried to take in his surroundings but beyond the stern faces of his apparent peers, all he really saw was a wide open field, a cloudy sky, and muddy plains. The grass was drooping from the rain and it looked like it was still lightly drizzling down, but not as heavy as before.

He was swept along with them all in their formation, and just now noticed his apparel had changed dramatically. His normal dress was nowhere in sight. He was in an old fashioned red coat with black cuffs at the end of his sleeves and similar black material along the buttons of the coat and their corresponding holes. He wore white pants and such underneath this coat that he could now tell was obviously from some kind of war setting. He was also wearing knee high combat boots, and had a gun strapped to his back by two white bands that made an X across his chest. He never really learned how a gun would be used, so why would he have one? It seemed pretty old fashioned it had a bayonet on the end, and it seemed complicated to load.

He kept marching along with the rest of his unrecognized peers, too busy trying to figure out how he had gotten among them in the first place. Feeling phased he kept along with them as he searched for a familiar face, but as he did gunshots sounded around him. Bodies suddenly began to drop to the ground one by one. With every shot there was a new body torn down and visible to Arthur as it hit the ground. The dead men and those around him firing in front were all dressed as he was, with the dead varying only in slight blood stains and holes through their chests.

Arthur panicked. Why was he among these people? Who where they? What was going on? He managed to see a force advancing towards them, as his own advanced as well. They were all in a uniform of clean pressed and fresh navy blue coats, red where black would be on his own uniform and a similar pair of white crossed straps over their chests. The distance between then was closing, and tensions were thick in the air.

The two forces clashed, springing into a struggle of confusion and carnage. Arthur, amidst the clash of opposing colors, began to flee. He started running in the opposite direction they had been marching from. More and more dead bodies littering the ground as he ran, red in abundance compared to blue, in more ways than one.

He ran from the scene for what seem like ages before he finally saw something in the distance. A town of some sorts, but he didn't see any people. He kept running regardless, running through the dirt roads, past the abandoned houses and stores, not sure where exactly he was going. He couldn't get the sound of gunshots out of his head, and now he was sure there were footsteps following him, heavy in speed and hate.

He kept running, not even sure what he was searching for. He just knew that the buildings he passed were not enough, and that they were not the safe Haven he needed. He turned emptied street corners, sidewalks, neighborhoods, until he saw it in the distance. It was identical to the House of Judgment up in Heaven. He knew it all too well for that instance alone, and though it wasn't the most pleasant association, it was the only familiar place.

He treaded up the many stone stairs to the front doors, only slightly aware of the rioting sounds growing louder in the background. He flung the doors open and propelled himself inside, almost as if he was pushed by his own instinct to find safety.

He breathed heavily as he stood hunched over, supporting his upper body by his placed arms atop his knees, now under dirtied and slightly damp clothes. He forced himself upright again, and made his was aimlessly to the end of the long hall.

At the end was a space elevated by a few stairs, and a flag draped down the cool gray stone wall. It was a flag of broad strips and bright stars, one that had already seen its beginning share in its young life, but still naive enough to hold hope in its cause. To stand for everything it symbolizes, to wave with pride and glory over the bloodied battle fields of its day, and for far more bloodied ones in time to come.

Arthur gazed at it in wonder. "Perhaps we are alike, my friend. Willing to shed blood for what is important; what's right."

"Don't you dare think you and that flag are alike." A familiar voice warned just before the heavy oak doors shut behind it. Arthur turned his attention to the youthful blonde walking towards him. Clean youthful blue, in sight and in dress, stride forth before him. His free and clear blonde locks lay their similar style, one always defiant in its position, much like the man before him. Always standing out, always going forth, and letting his coat tails flutter behind him as if he were a modern day war hero.

Alfred stood there opposite Arthur in silence. As red had met blue on the battle field, blue tore through green in emotion. Alfred's eyes were blazing with a mix of emotions Arthur couldn't discern completely, but it defiantly wasn't anything pleasant.

"You...you have no right." The younger said. Arthur cocked his head at the statement.

"What?"

"You heard me. You had no right to do such a thing! You filthy...thing." Alfred frowned at the sight of Arthur. "You just had to distract me! Stop me from passing on and going on to Heaven! What, is my life some kind of game to you?"

Arthur frowned. "No, if I hadn't done anything you would have died! Cut down in your prime." Alfred twitched at the reply.

"And what decision was it of yours? Hm? You cost me more time in this damn wretched world! It's my life, you bastard!" Alfred was angry; he yanked the musket from the holster on his back and aimed. "You did this to me! I'm not some toy for you to fawn over! I could have been at peace!"

Arthur tensed at the action, at Alfred's demeanor. He was hostile, hateful, and held a grudge far heavier than the wooden rifle he held tightly in his hands. What happened to the bright, happy, and eccentric blonde that Arthur had loved to watch? Was the fountain simply deceiving him?

"I just-"

"Shut up, you scum! You don't even deserve to be here. I have freedom to go when it's my damn well time. You took that from me! It's my choice, not yours!" Arthur clenched his fists. That was it.

"You ungrateful prat! Do the feelings and intentions behind it mean nothing? Huh? I did for you! I gave you time to live out your dreams!" He shouted back. He never imagined their first conversation would be like this. Alfred grew more upset at the retort. He pressed his fingers tightly against the trigger of his gun; glaring as he aimed at Arthur.

"You...Who would want to be loved by a sinner like you. You disgust me."

The smoke flowed from the end of his gun, and the ringing of the round reverberated off the walls. The pain that made his heart ache was as bad if not worse than the bullet lodged in his heart. Blood spurted out his back and sprayed the beautiful flag behind him, causing it to be stained red. The broad stripes now sullied, the bright stars now dimmed with spilt blood. Arthur began to fall, much like the dripping of his blood for the second time.

The first time for Alfred, this time by Alfred himself.

Arthur's eyes snapped open, immediately coming back into consciousness the moment he had registered what had happened. He quickly sat up in bed, panic heavy in his breathing and his eyes wide with fear. Sweat moistened his forehead and the back of his neck. The adrenalin in his system soon died down from his fear and his pain came back sharply. It felt as if a knife had just been driven into his back, but it was simply the after math of something similar. His chest and ribcage were sore and hurting as well. He looked down to see his chest wrapped in gauze, and himself in unfamiliar boxers.

Taking a look around, he noticed through his blurred vision that nothing was familiar at all. He was in a bedroom, lying on a bed covered with blood stained towels and wrinkled bed sheets.

He felt awful. His mind was bogged down with confusion; he couldn't understand what was going on. Alfred was aiming a gun at him only moments ago, and now he wasn't even in the same location. He felt the bullet penetrate his chest, but he felt no actual pain in that area of his body.

'What the hell is going on...Alfred had...'

He had tried to shoot him. He was angry, hateful at Arthur. Why, Arthur only had his best interests in mind!

'Ungrateful brat. He...h-he...-'

He was right.

Everything the blonde had said to him was right, no matter how hostile or out of character it seemed. He was right. It was not Arthur's decision to make and it never was. Alfred's life was his, and Arthur was no part of it, and had no right to be in it. He had no right. No right...

Arthur didn't belong here. Arthur didn't deserve to even die on Earth. He didn't deserve to even be an angel in the first place. So why the hell was he here now?

What was a horrible waste of time even existing for!

His breathing labored, and his face flushed, he sat there gripping the cool bed sheets. His heart was aching, still fresh with burning sensations of hurt, loneliness, and guilt. His hands were clammy and his head was lowered; pressure welting up inside.

Why was he alive!

He was right about all of it. The decision was not Arthur's to make. He deprived Alfred of his privileged entrance to the afterlife, put off his passing until who knew how long. He was scum, a failure, and something to be hated.

He was never one to cry, there was never anything to cry over in Heaven, but now he felt hot tears blur his sight even further, though he didn't know why it was blurred in the first place. He bit his bottom lip to keep the hot tears from flowing down his enflamed cheeks. A choked sob escaped from his throat, and he shut his eyes tight.

As Arthur struggled within his own battered skin, footsteps sounded down the hall, however he was too self-involved to care about it at the moment. Arthur began shaking; gripping his sheets even tighter making his knuckles turn white.

Something snapped in Arthur as he started into his lap, hands tense and at his sides, his back arched and his fair blonde locks tousled about his head, almost matching how messed up he felt on the inside. His stomach churned up another horrible feeling: utter disbelief.

"I'm...alive." The surprise momentarily stopped his internal emotional struggle. His self loathing was put off and replaced with the feeling in his gut.

Alive.

Arthur was still alive.

'Why am I alive?'

Why...

Why...

'Why.'

'Why.'

'Why!'

"WHY!"

His thoughts couldn't contain it any longer. He let it out with so much unnecessary guilt, letting his hot tears roll down his face for the first time as he shouted, more to himself than anyone else.

"Why the bloody hell am I still alive!"

Alfred was sitting at the kitchen table finishing up his breakfast. It was only the following morning when they had taken the blonde man in, and he still hadn't regained consciousness.

When he and Kiku had arrived back at the house they had taken him straight to the spare room on the second floor. The house he and Mattie lived in was technically built for three people, but they were the only ones who lived there now. They were too lazy to change the room into anything else, so it simply stayed the 'I'm too tired I'm gonna crash here' room for their friends that passed by their house while doing whatever they usually did.

Kiku had raided the first aid kit and other medical supplies on hand as soon as they had barged into the house. He had also called his older cousin Yao for help, and he arrived after Kiku had begun to treat the patient's wounds. While they worked on helping him, Alfred tried to explain to his brother what was going on. It basically went like this.

"Someone get drunk?"

"Nope."

"Someone get hurt?"

"Y-Yeah...Found a guy lying in the alley outside the bar."

"You brought home a drunken hobo, didn't you? You really need to stop doing that."

"Oh C'mon Mattie! Paul was a great guest, and No, I didn't bring home a hobo tonight. He was bleeding out pretty bad. He didn't have any ID so it'd be a bit difficult to admit him to the hospital. Kiku's in there now and by the looks of it...Yao just showed up to help."

Once everything was explained to him, Mattie thought that once he was taken care of Yao and Kiku could stay over if they needed to. Kiku quietly took the offer, but Yao said he needed to get back to his place. He had left medicine and slight instructions for the brothers and his cousin before leaving.

And then that lead up to now. Alfred was the only person in the house: Mattie had left for work, while Kiku went back home earlier that morning. The mess from last night had been cleaned up; there was a lot of blood, but Yao said that the patient's wounds were all dressed, and his ribs were going to be okay as long as he took it easy. Alfred was surprised it would be that simple, he looked pretty battered, but Kiku said just to tend to his fever and let him rest, so he did just that.

Placing his bowel into the sink Alfred decided he would give Feliciano and the others an update. Even though they didn't know the man, some of them seemed worried, or at least curious. He pulled out his phone and started texting him.

'Hey Feli.' He rubbed his eyes, and by the time he had gotten out to the hallway he had already gotten a reply.

'Alfred! How is the guy from last night? He looked pretty hurt.'

'Kiku & Yao fixed him up. Stopped bleeding out, but he has a fever now. Unconscious' Alfred headed up the stairs. He turned a left at the top and headed to the farthest door at the end of the short hallway.

'That's good! I hope he wakes soon. I'll tell the others!' Alfred chuckled; you could even tell how bubbly that Italian was through texts. He began typing out his reply.

"Why the bloody hell am I still alive!"

He nearly jumped out of his shoes when he heard the blonde shout, but he pocketed his cell phone and opened the bedroom door as soon as he registered it.

He looked towards the bed and there he was, sitting up, now more animated than he had been the night before. Last night Alfred hadn't really gotten that good of a look at him, but now that he had a little time, he noticed more about him. His hair was a very light shade of blonde and sort of choppy. It was a little odd, but the style seemed to suit him. He was sure if sunlight shone upon it that it would be even more beautiful, but today was a gloomy and rainy day.

Another thing he noticed was his eyebrows were a bit large, but that just seemed to be how they were. He knew they were furrowed slightly with the man's facial expression but he couldn't see his eyes or anything. He could see that he was gritting his teeth though.

Alfred stood there beside the bed, unsure of what exactly was going on. The blonde's was breathing heavily and he was visibly shaking, clearly distraught somehow.

"Hey, dude. Are you alright?"

Arthur stopped shaking as soon as he heard the voice next to him. It didn't sound like it had last time, it was more gentle and in character, but that didn't make him feel any better. It was still Alfred's. He didn't want to, but Arthur was a gentleman, he still had manners, so he looked up.

When their eyes met Alfred breath hitched. Arthur's face was flushed and wet with tears, though very soft and fair in complexion. His eyes were a clean green color, and of course watery at the moment. What bothered Alfred the most was that he looked afraid. Afraid of him.

Alfred placed a hand on his shoulder. Being confused and scared wouldn't help his condition.

"You have a nightmare? It happens sometimes when you're real sick ya know."

He only got more confused at the question. 'Nightmare...Wait, so. That never really happened?' He seemed to relax slightly at the thought that Alfred hadn't ever attempted to shoot him. However the words that he had said still made themselves a home in the back of his mind. They had already affected him, and he couldn't let go the fact that everything that Alfred had said in his dream was still true, no matter how fake he was in it.

Arthur stayed silent, but he showed that he had heard Alfred with a slight nod before dropping eye contact. With Arthur a little more stable with his emotions Alfred pulled up the desk chair and sat next to him.

"Um, you were pretty cut up when I found you, I brought you to my house to get you medical help, so that's why you're here. My friend Kiku and his cousin Yao patched you up." He explained. "Kiku said you have a fever from being out in the rain for so long."

Now that it was brought up Arthur did feel ill. His throat was scratchy, and he felt very warm. He also felt very dense and sore, although that had nothing to do with him being sick. Arthur put his hand to his cheek, feeling just how much heat was actually coming from him. He rested his hands in his lap and began to wring his wrists.

"Oh, you were handcuffed too when I found you in the alley...What happened to you?" Alfred asked. It was a mystery to him, what had happened to Arthur. He didn't know anything about him, while Arthur new so much about him.

Arthur shied away from Alfred, still not speaking. He felt slightly ashamed. Being in Alfred's presence seemed oddly natural and he knew it was wrong to feel that way. Alfred thought he hit a nerve.

"Uh, sorry dude, if it's too personal you don't gotta tell me. But at least tell me one thing." Arthur lifted his head up a bit, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

"What's your name?"

Arthur looked back down at his hands, unsure if he should really reply or if he was even capable of doing such with his throat feeling scratchy. This was what Arthur had wanted, for Alfred to know who he was. Why was he suddenly so apprehensive in simply telling him his name?

"...Arthur-" What the hell was he supposed to say was his last name? He didn't really have one."-Kirkland."

It was hoarse and soft spoken, but Alfred heard it clearly. He smiled, now he knew what to call the man who had suddenly dropped right into his life. Arthur Kirkland.

"Alfred F. Jones." Alfred showed off his bright grin, it made Arthur smile too. It was the first time of many that the smile would be directed at him.

Meheheee.. T^T

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