The storm had literally sprung up out of nowhere, bringing with it driving rain, vindictive winds and that lighting blinded. It certainly caught the crew of The Lusitania, off guard and unawares. But while all non-essential crew had fled to the relative safety further blow deck, Lt. Arthur Kirkland stayed rooted to his he stayed to his post, keeping his spy-glass trained on the eastward sky. The sky grew more threatening with each passing moment, and the wind whipped about the air-ship, rocking the large vessel from side to side, causing the remaining crew-members on the bridge to cling to their consoles.

"Kirkland!" The Captain's voice boomed after a particularly violent flash of lighting, "If you don't spot Lt. Jones's squadron within the next three minutes were leaving them to fend for themselves, she can't take much more of this!"

A shivered of panic ran through Arthur.

"Aye, Captain," he responded out of protocol, without taking his attention away from the sky. Where are you, git, he fretted internally.

But the sky remained empty, of all signs of life. The storm mocked them, tossing the ship about but stop just short of knocking her completely out of the sky. Another flash of lightning struck, missing the ship by centimeters.

"That's it!" The Captain shouted, running a hand through his dark hair, "Zwingli, get us the hell out of this storm!"

The man with the blond bob who sat at the helm nodded shortly as he prepared to maneuver the ship above the storm.

Arthur turned to the Captain unabashed worry on his face, a protest hanging off his lips, −

"Captain, the radar is picking up a faint signal about 20 knots off the port side and moving fast!" Said the small Asian man who manned the radar station.

"Is it one of ours?" The Captain demanded

Arthur attention snapped back to the ranging sky hoping rising, as the Ensign replied, "I can't tell Captain!"

"Captain!" Arthur shouted not even trying to hide the hope and relief in his voice. Through his scope he had spotted faint and flickering, a blue point of light moving towards the Lusitania. The blue signal light of a B-82 fighter plane, two more close behind.

"I have a visual, lights moving closer Sir, there ours, but there is only three one is missing Sir!"

The planes became a fuzzy outline in his spy-glass, but he could not tell if one the remaining planes was Alfred's.

"Ensign Honda! Try get them on the radio now! Lt. Kirkland, keep on sight on them and don't lose' em!"

"Aye Sir!" They replied in tandem, though Arthur would not have taken his eyes off the sky now, even if he was held at gun point.

He only haft listened as The Captain shouted more orders, for the hanger doors to be open as soon as the fighters were in eyeshot and the landing teams to be ready for an emergency landing!

"Things are about to get hairy lads!" The Captain shouted, "Honda, what's taking so long?"

"The strom is interfering with the signal Captain; all I can get is static!" Said Ensign Honda.

The Captain swore loudly, "Keep trying!"

"Aye Sir!"

Arthur felt his heart somewhere in the back of throat, as he watched the planes dipped and bob like corks in a bathtub, and fought the winds that tried to sway them from their course. He found himself praying, something he did not do very often, he prayed that the little planes would make it, prayed that Alfred was among them, and he prayed that someone would answer the God damn radio!

"This−avo- ait-too-, Lt. –oxtort Jones, aka Cowboy, do you read−ver!" The static broken message filtered through bridge, in the strained voice of Alfred F. Jones!

Arthur breathed out at the sound of that voice, but knew they were by no means out of the woods yet, the planes still had to land.

"We copy you Cowboy, what's your status over?" Honda replied abruptly into his headset.

"−arly staying−irborn Kiku! My ra−nly ones –at's working! Requesting –ission to land ove−!"

Arthur could see them clearly through the rain now, without the use of his scope the fighters looked a bit worse for wear. This landing was going to be anything but smooth.

Kiku glanced at the Captain, who nodded assent, "Permission granted, Cowboy, Bravo-ait-too, you are a-go for landing, over!"

"Rodger−at!" Alfred's voice said, "−ittle Templar ,−ill land first, −ollowed by Holger, − 've got the most fue−eft and− land last over!"

"Holder her steady Zwingli!" The Captain shouted to the helmsman, "The second, they're clear you get us the hell out of here!"

The rain was relentless and the winds heartless, as they every crew-member on the bridge watched the fighter planes cautious approach. No one breathed, they had forgotten how. Arthur found himself praying again, but this time he simply prayed that he would be able to see those bright blue eyes and infectious smile again.

The final plane, touched down on the deck and skidded into the hanger just a few levels under the bridge. A voice form one the speaking tubes at the Captain's elbow gave the all clear, and the ship lurched as she fought the gale trying to find some exit into clear and open skies.

The second The Lusitania was out of the grip of the storm, Arthur abandoned his post (with the captain's permission) and made it to the hanger-bay in record time. Knowing Alfred, the bloody idiot would be going over the damage to the ship, never mind the damage to his own body!

The hanger was crowded with enlisted men running back and forth on errands of their own. Arthur caught a frighten young corporal by the elbow, "Where's Lt. Jones!" he snapped, in what was known amongst the enlisted men his don't-fuck-with-me tone. The corporal pointed to a small circle of men near a battered looking B-82 on the other side of the hanger. Arthur let the young man go, and had to try not to run across the hanger.

Alfred stood in the middle of a gaggle of men, his bomber-jacket about his shoulders, talking with one the mechanics about something painfully technical. But the point was that Alfred was there, blue eyes, glasses, and stupid blond hair with that stupid cowlick, alive!

"Alfred!" Arthur called protocol be damned.

Alfred caught sight of him and dismissed the mechanic as the pilot stored forward meeting Arthur half way. They embraced, not caring who saw them; the whole ship knew about their relationship anyways, one had to be blind not to see it.

"You git, don't make me worry like that!" Arthur murmured into the pilots neck.

Alfred wrapped his arms tighter about Arthur's person, "I'll try to, but I can't promise anything."

Arthur pulled away, "I'll hold you to that. Now why haven't you gone to sick-bay yet!"

"I'm fine, Arthur just a bit shaken." Alfred replied, with a small shrug.

"I don't care," the lieutenant snapped, "you just flew through a typhoon, we are going to sick-bay and you are letting them have a look at you!"

"But−

"Now, Lt. Jones!"

Alfred sighed but gave in and said in a henpecked voice "Alright, alright, I'll go."

Together they left the hanger, and once they were alone in the hallway, Arthur took Alfred's hand laced their fingers together.

"Are you really alright, y-you lost someone today?" he asked

Alfred stopped walking and his shoulders slumped, "Yeah, Bates went down, his plane it was struck by lightning, there; there was nothing any of us could do…"

The grip on Arthur's hand tighten, the pilots eyes looking a bit wet around the edge.

"Hey Arthur?" he said

"Yes love."

"I know we don't say it often but you know I love you, right?"

Arthur met the blue eyes he had almost lost today, and stood on tip-toe to place a kiss to Alfred's lips.

"Yes, and I love you too."

AN: I'd like to thank all the people who have either read, added this story to their favorites, or added this to their story alerts! It mean a lot !