"I'm still here, but I'll just keep the rest of me. Cause I see you, but I can't feel you anymore."

There is something to be said for a person that lands on their feet.

That slips into their new place with only the slightest ripple in the ever flowing current of time. Which is precisely what did not happen to the unfortunate Arthur Kirkland. He stumbled forward, head pounding, dizziness and nausea overwhelming all other senses as he was ripped across space and time...To land smack in the middle of nowhere. All around him there was nothing but open field, open sky.

A surprisingly warm wind whipped through him, tousling his golden hair so that it flowed with the same consistency of the pale wheat that hit at his waist. He looked up into a bright noonday sun, green eyes squinting together in confusion. He was absolutely sure that only a moment ago he had been sitting in a very dark pub drinking his worries away. Worries that his brain couldn't quite remember at the moment.

Apparently the drink had been doing its job.

Unfortunately, it didn't solve the problem before him now. There was a strange weight in his hand, he looked down to see a silver pocket watch with an interesting design of leaves about the face, even if the glass was cracked just a tad. He didn't recognize it, but it was nice. Lovely even. It seemed like one of those unforgettable gifts, but when he tried to focus on just where in the world he might have gotten it his head began pounding and his vision swam.

Meaning he didn't want to dwell on it for too long. It could only cause further trouble, a hint of nausea even, and he wasn't a man that liked to feel sick, to feel so out of sorts. He took a deep breath to steady himself, but only found that the air felt too rich, too clean somehow. His lungs were used to the toxins that tended to clutter the busy London air, but this...This was pure country.

Open and wild. The types of things he was never very good at. There had been once, he'd stayed with an aunt in Ireland, she'd had nothing but open moors around her, rolling and intimidating. He'd only gone outside but once or twice, and always with her beside him.

He was a man who didn't feel like he could be swallowed by the great unknown. The emptiness of an open plain. He wanted structure, form, safety. And so it was that he promptly began to panic; even if it was indeed the middle of a very sunny day. He shoved the watch into an empty gray pocket and began to run. Didn't know what from, or where in the world he was heading, only that it felt good and it felt right.

Arthur Kirkland hadn't done something like this in a long time.

Running hell for leather with only the wind and open field at his back. In fact, he was pretty sure he'd never ran like this before. It was as if his body was possessed by some force outside of his being, his legs moving of their own volition, lungs pumping air throughout his body at a surprisingly steady rate. He was nowhere near winded which was strange for two reasons. The first being he was pretty sure he was still drunk. The second being he was not athletic.

And yet he kept going.

And it seemed as if he wasn't gaining any ground. Like being trapped in one of those looped backgrounds from a cheap sitcom. The only thing was that he couldn't get his body to stop, he was being driven by lord only knew what, heading towards heaven only knew where. But he couldn't bring himself to care. To worry. He lost himself to the strange movement. The ebb and flow of his breathing, the hard push of his muscles working against the force of gravity so that it was like he was nearly flying.

He had never felt so free before.

Though somewhere, in the back of his mind there was a nagging doubt. It discounted all of this with a sarcastic smirk as a drunkard's pathetic attempt to escape reality. For some reason he was really really wanting to silence that part of this brain. Even if it was the logical side, the side that made sense out of this impossibility. And truth be told, all of this was beginning to make it feel like his head was going to split in two.

It was with this distraction that Arthur tripped over his own feet and did a face plant right into the fertile earth of this weird golden field. He coughed and sputtered in attempt to get it off of his face, his arms trembling as he tried to at least force himself to his knees. What in the world was happening to him? Had he finally lost it? Was he actually locked in a padded white room somewhere along the coast?

All of things were a very frightening possibility. So frightening to the grown man that he immediately began to feel hot tears of frustration squeezing out of his eyes. Sliding down his cheeks and creating a dreadfully muddy trail down his otherwise handsome face. He just wished he could remember how he'd gotten here. What had happened to make the world change like this.

And then there was a voice above him.

"Hey, dude...Umm...are you okay?" There was a sudden and nearly audible click in the back of Arthur's mind. His wide green eyes flashed up the figure now standing awkwardly over him and he had the resist the urge to utter the name that was unwontedly dangling on his lips. As it was, it took a moment for him to find any words at all.

"Err...yeah. Just tripped." The boy above him laughed, he couldn't be that old. Fourteen or Fifteen maybe.

"Well hey, want a hand?" He leaned forward, offering with a grin as bright as the one that had lit up a dingy pub back in England. Arthur took it without thinking, surprised at the boy's strength as he pulled him to his feet. Even more strange was that he already hit at about his shoulders in height. It was no wonder he had been taller than him...

Dear lord above he was losing his mind.

There was no way this could actually be Alfred. It would make no sense...Unless of course, he really was locked up in a padded room somewhere with regular injections of medicine to keep the misery away.

"Thanks."

"No problem bro, just tell me, what in the world are you doing out here?" The boy...This boy that looked like a younger Alfred, laughed, blue eyes bright with the light of the sun. It didn't put him at ease like it would if this were really Alfred. Something about this was just too artificial.

"Truth be told...I have no idea." It was true enough.

"Y'know, you have a funny accent." The kid was really one to talk, but he kept his mouth shut. Because...At the very least he could tell he wasn't anywhere near London, imagination or not. Still, Arthur could not help the grin that had somehow managed to cross his mien.

"I hear that a lot, though truth be told, it helps me get the ladies." Not that he cared for the ladies...Obviously...But it had earned him a long look or two back in the day. The boy grinned, which for some reason or other made Arthur realize that their hands were still oddly clasped. Naturally, he let go as soon as he realized it. The funny thing being that it had felt like Alfred's hand alright. That strange combination that managed to feel smooth and oddly masculine at the same time.

Which he really shouldn't have been thinking about because there was no way this was Alfred, and it wasn't right to be captivated by a kid this young. He ran his now free hand through his hair and looked off into the sky to divert his attention.

"I really don't care what the girls think." The kid leaned forward a bit, those blue eyes bright as they stared up into Arthur's now wide, incredulous green ones. "And I don't think you do either...what was your name again?" Arthur instinctively backed away a bit, even if he wasn't particularly compelled to. Damn it! Just what the hell was up here? Sure he remember Alfred now, didn't know how he had squashed that. The edges of the pain were blurred but it didn't stop it from being able to pierce the skin and sting like a hundred paper cuts.

"It's Arthur." A strange look crossed the younger man's face but it was quickly replaced by one of those drop dead grins that already seemed far too familiar.

"Does that mean I can call you Arty?"

"No." Arthur's brows drew together, he'd never been fond of nicknames, and "Arty" was just one of the worst. Had heard it a hundred times a day back in preemie school. The two stood there for a moment, eyes locked, studying one another. It was, (and not surprisingly), awkward. Probably just because of how convoluted all of this really seemed, to both parties. One a grown man in a place he didn't know, with a boy he didn't know; a boy that resembled the man he'd fallen in love with that he was sure he'd seen die hardly a few hours ago...And the other...

The other was a boy hardly beginning into manhood. Wild and intuitive that had seen a figure racing through an abandoned field and become fascinated at the sight, it had looked as if they had been flying. Had seen them stumble, seen them fall, and then been there to help them up with the eager grin that one him the hearts of every decent hearted person for miles around.

"I do like that name though." The boy spoke absently, not really bothering to care that it was a stranger he was speaking to. After all, a stranger was just a friend waiting to be made. "It's like King Arthur from the old stories. He was a real hero, saving damsels and Camelot...You're lucky you got a cool name like that, you never hear of anyone cool with the name Alfred." He paused for a moment and then offered a faint smile. "My name's Alfred by the way."

Arthur couldn't help that his heart jumped in his chest, pausing on an otherwise steady beat at the sound of that name. He ruffled the boy's pale blonde hair, a smile finding its way to the corner of his mouth.

"It's not the name that makes the person Al. If you set your mind to it though, there will be a day when people will be honored to name their children after you." The boy tilted his head to one side, a curious expression set with the slightest hint of understanding. He grinned, and before he knew it he had thrown his arms around the taller man in a suffocating hug.

"You're totally right! If I do enough heroic deeds there won't be a person who says they can't do the same!" He stepped back, putting his hands on his hips, obviously feeling very pleased with this entire idea. "Just think about it, if an Alfred can be a hero...If someone as simple as me can do that...Then everyone can! And then...And then the world will be a brighter place, right?"

Already that boy's personality was set into place. The one that had caught Arthur's attention in the first place. Probably the only person in the whole world that would offer a ride to a completely drunk stranger on a cold winter's night. Arthur felt a pang go through his heart as he looked down at the smiling youth. Envy and pity wrapped in one look. Envy that he couldn't be all this young man could, he'd long lost that spirit...Pity because he knew how it would destroy him in the end.

And it would be all his fault. Breaking an innocent heart without a second thought. He wasn't dumb enough to believe he couldn't take the blame, to think that he could toss it off on Francis for being the one to filch his phone. That's just not how things went.

"Alfred, the world's already a brighter place just because you're here." The sudden sound of ticking filled Arthur's skull, the resounding thump of the doldrums crescendoing with every passing second. His vision blurred at the edges and nausea hit him like a hangover at the sound of an alarm going off five minutes before work was to start.

"You're a funny guy, but thanks!" A hand went awkwardly behind his neck as the boy smiled brightly up at him. "I'm going to make sure to be worthy of that compliment!" It felt as though the ground was slipping away from him at a rapid rate. Fruitlessly he reached out his hand to grasp for Alfred's arm, something to anchor him in this strange, dream-like world. As might have been expected, it was like slipping his hand through smoke.

Elusive but unattainable.

He could have cried out with the anguish of it. Where was the sense of fair play in this? The logic...The sense...The normalcy? Sure they were selfish thoughts, but he had to know what in the world had made it so his life was becoming this blur of moments and memories...That was making it so he didn't know what was up and what was down, what was real and what was fake?

He looked down into his hand; he didn't recall pulling the silver watch out of his pocket. And yet there it was...The cracks seemed to have faded somewhat...He looked at it quizzically as the leaves began to twist and writhe, leaping from the face of the clock to crawl up his wrist and entwine about his arm. His heart began to pound at a frantic rate, his green eyes wide with panic as he looked about the sudden, blurred emptiness.

In the distance he heard a separate clicking.

Like sharp heels on a freshly polished surface. There was a faint light and he swore he could see it reflecting off of bright red hair, could swear he saw the tiniest hint of a self-satisfied smirk. The tiniest peal of girlish laughter.

"Well done Arthur Kirkland, you haven't lost the entirety of your wits yet, I suppose this means you get to move on." A monotone voice with a vague hint of familiarity. He called out with a hoarse voice even though he wasn't completely sure that he was talking to anything of substance or just a figment of his fragmented mind.

"I don't know what you mean! I feel pretty damn crazy...What the hell is all this?" Another peal of laughter was his answer for the longest moment as he began to feel that nauseating tug from before. The tug that threatened to pull him under the surface of his own consciousness.

"It's what you asked for. Now repay your debt Mr. Kirkland before we extract the price on our own terms." More laughter. That damned ticking increased and he could no longer find his voice. Didn't even think to care. None of this mattered.

It couldn't possibly be real. He would surely wake up in a cold alley somewhere with nothing more than a normal hangover and the vague feeling that he'd had one hellish dream. Arthur knew in his heart, and without a doubt, that his mind had been playing tricks on him.

There was no Alfred Jones. It was just another figment of his imagination.

Ugh, sorry for the slow update and the weird chapter...I'm just trying to get back into the swing of things...Any ideas on breaking writer's block?