A/N: Well...This is the final chapter. Thank you so much for staying with me til the end, I really appreciate it and hope you enjoy this ending! I know it took long enough to get to, so thank you so much once more!

"So close to the end you're almost home, now please hurry cause I'll be waiting for you like I always do."

It was to the unending nothing that Arthur was exiled to.

And he was stuck there in silence for a long time, so long in fact, that he was relatively sure that his mind was dissolving with each passing second. Never before had he been frightened of the dark. But now that it was everywhere; without even the tiniest hint of light... it was what he imagined death was like.

Being surrounded by nothing, a part of nothing, with no way to see anything more. To say that it was maddening would be an understatement. For while he was there, here... wherever he was, he was nowhere at all. Couldn't tell if he was standing or sitting, Arthur couldn't so much as feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in and out.

If he was even breathing at all.

After awhile his mind began to deviate to old memories. Replaying them in the crispest of detail as a way to occupy his fading mind. Childhood squabbles, familial reunions, petty triumphs and failures all exposed now with the utmost clarity. Things that he had almost forgotten, things he was glad to see replayed.

It would be a relief under other circumstances.

As it was, Arthur couldn't concentrate on anything longer than five seconds. That is, until there was a flicker of light. It was quickly followed by another, like the striking of a match, a bright show of flame and color, quickly fading after the initial burst. And then there came the tell-tale clicking of what could only be a woman's heels on a polished surface. His fists clenched at his sides and he was relieved to know they were still there.

The unwelcome voice that spilled into the otherwise empty area resounded with the crack of a gunshot upon his ears. That first lifting of the veil that had settled over his senses.

"So Arthur Kirkland, tell me, have you figured out your purpose yet?"

"Isn't that something I find out when I die?" He was surprised by the sharp retort that dived off the tip of his tongue. Strangely enough he didn't regret it, not when he noticed the angry spark in emerald eyes that appeared on a face from nowhere. That damned woman again. The same from before, the hospital, the nothing place before.

"Cynicism doesn't quite suit you." She clicked her tongue and it was the beat of doldrums.

"Too bad, I'm kind of stuck with it. Thanks to you and your little cohort tossing me into this wonderful situation." His thick brows drew together, where was that other girl anyway? It always seemed to be this one that did all the talking...Well, either way, he'd rather deal with this woman.

"Some would take it as a chance for an attitude adjustment." She raised a single eyebrow as her eyes appraised him like a fishwife eying a prospective purchase at the market. "But you only seem to be deteriorating, such a shame since you weren't doing so well in the beginning." For some reason it was this last statement that hit a cord in the back of Arthur's mind.

"You know nothing of what I've been through! I don't care if you're the one throwing all this at me or not, but until your feet have walked where mine have, and your eyes have seen what these hands have done, then you know nothing." He practically spat the last word, his clover eyes glittering with an inner strength the rest of him wasn't quite aware that he had.

It was that breaking point, when pain has been so keenly polished as to make it into the perfect weapon for dismantling it. And it seemed that Arthur Kirkland was beginning to grasp this. That the debt he owed Alfred was more than his life. He owed it to that man to live a happy and fulfilled life, no matter the pain or the cost. He'd seen what Alfred truly was.

A pure heart, a light spirit. Willing to do anything for a person regardless of what it may cost him in the end. Like killing that robber in that brief moment...to even the helping hand in the bar. He never let anything bring him down, didn't drown his sorrows in a bottle, didn't blame it on the cruelty of the world.

Because he was out there making it a better place.

And so it was that he began to laugh. The unfamiliar sound bubbling up from the back of his throat and spilling unbidden from his lips. He was perhaps one of the most stubbornly foolish men in the world. To have brought it to this when really he could have changed the outcome all along. He only prayed there was some way to utilize this knew knowledge brimming inside him, this strangely light feeling in the center of his chest.

"Maybe you aren't quite so hopeless as my sister originally thought." Even at the snapping cord of the woman's voice, Arthur did not flinch. He met her glittering eyes with the calm and resolute knowledge of one that had already seen it all. That had felt the sharp pangs of life and was just beginning to realize all the joys it could hold.

A theatre's curtains being raised for a stunningly bright performance he had never quite expected.

"I would like to thank you for this." His best response was a small smile at the corner of his handsome mouth, a gentlemanly bow from his waist. "For all of this, for no matter the hand you played, be it for good or ill...I am extraordinarily grateful." Even the darkest and most stubborn of men could be humbled, he was proof enough of that.

And amusingly so.

The woman raised a single eyebrow, appraising his sudden change of attitude with an incredulous smirk that quickly turned into a strangely musical bout of laughter. Arthur watched, happy and yet still unsure about just how this would play out in the end, truth be told...He had his fingers crossed hopefully behind his back.

Then just as quickly as it had begun, the woman's laughter ceased. Her emerald eyes held the gaze of Arthur's hopeful clover ones for a long moment before she opened her mouth to speak.

"You're a strange creature indeed Arthur Kirkland, but one worthy of happiness nonetheless. Now, let's see what I can do for you."

*****xxxx*****

It was not a great amount of time before Alfred was making arrangements to get a few weeks off in December from work for a trip to London. Easy enough to arrange around a boss that had been hounding him to take a vacation for what had seemed like forever. What was not quite so easy would be procuring the proper funds for the said trip.

So it was to his Grandfather's that he reluctantly went.

Now, the old man had long taken to doting on his eldest grandson, if perhaps only for the reason that he was nearly identical to his older brother that had passed when they'd been ought but young men. The typical genes of the Jones family ran strong in him after all. The tall stature, the impetuous blue eyes, that bright blond hair and the unshakeable air of justice.

They were a family well praised in their community. Always kind and giving without though. But it had been the eldest Jones boy to go off to war when the call was given back in the forties, that didn't return. All that was ever sent back was an beaten up bomber jacket, a few medals, and a letter from some English man who he'd apparently befriended before being sent off to fight the Nazis.

Naturally, when the old man's grandson came racing up his front steps with a look of strangely frantic worry in his normally confident eyes that his curiosity was piqued. He recalled with perhaps too much precision that self-same look when his brother had come home saying he'd signed up fight for his country. A well-worn smile sneaked across his comfortably wizened features as he watched the young man from his normal place at his rocker.

"In a hurry Alfred?" For a moment he'd nearly called him Alfy...The nickname of that old brother of his that his grandson was so named for. Some of the less relaxed members figured it'd doom him to an early death just like his predecessor but good ol' Grandfather Jones knew differently by this point. He may be a lot like his brother, but he'd make sure they didn't share the same fate.

Lives just didn't repeat after all.

"Not all that much Grampa." He grinned from ear to ear, but the old man was clever enough to know that it wasn't quite sincere.

"Then sit down and take a load off, it looks like you practically ran here." His eyes were a lighter shade of blue than his grandson's due to the passing of time, but they still saw the world with a sharp level of clarity that helped him get a better feeling for what was up here. He leaned back in his chair, feigning typical relaxation and the comfort of lazily passing the day away upon his front porch.

Naturally it wasn't all that long before Alfred began to fidget from his seat on the front step of that porch. And it was then that he began to speak, quite rapidly and with that breathless conviction that ran so strongly in their family.

"I really hate to ask...And I know I really shouldn't, but I have this umm...friend in trouble. But they're well, they're in England, and I can't exactly y'know afford to get there...So well...It's not nice of me to ask, especially since you're always so nice to me anyways...But I'm really worried you see, and I really care about them...Like more than anyone else I can think of...I mean besides you and my folks of course! But well...do you think it'd be possible you could help me get to London by December?" The old man was hard put not to let loose a breezy laugh that threatened in his chest at the sight of his grandson's behavior.

It was all too obvious that the boy was in love. He had that look about him that was so easy to recognize, and he could tell there was definitely more to it than was shown on the surface, but who was he to judge? After the many things he'd seen over the years he'd learned to go along with the feelings that pushed people so strongly that they acted in ways not so typical of them.

It was endearing, that pure feeling that he recognized in his grandson's clear summer sky eyes. He'd always needed someone to ground him, and by that look...He might just have found that one.

"Whatever you need Alfred, I know very well what you're going through. And before you open your mouth to say otherwise, I'm not old enough to forget the joys of youth. My brother had that look about him when he left, and I'm almost sure he had someone over there across the ocean that was calling to him too, it'd be wrong for me to deny you when you need this." He winked one of his blue eyes and began to move that creaky old body of his up and out of his rocker.

"I...I don't know how to thank you Grampa." Alfred was already up and attempting to help him move towards the front door when the old man shooed his hands away. They were a proud lot after all, and he wasn't quite so old enough that he couldn't open a door for himself after all.

"Can I just ask you to do one favor for me though?" A slow smile slid across his face, the lightness in it seeming to make the wrinkles disappear, a more youthful visage emerging as he looked his grandson over. There was a feeling deep in his chest telling him that all of this was going according to some grand plan much greater than himself.

"Anything you want, I promise it'll be done!" That bright spark was only seeming to grow in the young man's eyes, it kindled a fond feeling in the elder's chest, even as he shuffled slowly inside his home with all the energy of a sick let out a low, wheezy chuckle as he began to climb up the stairs that lead to the bedroom used for storage.

"I'm not even quite sure it's possible, but I'm old enough to even attempt it anyways, so I figure if there's anyone that can give it an even halfway decent go-around it'll be you." His worn slippers slid a bit on the carpeted stairs, but with Alfred behind him they eventually made it to the somewhat dusty old room that deserved a bit of good spring cleaning.

With a surprisingly quick turn of the doorknob the two men made there way over to the one well-kept portion of the room. Hardly a speck of dust had settled on these boxes, and as the younger Jones read the label, he knew well enough why. It was his Great Uncle Alfred's things, the man for whom he was named for. At the very least, his attention was spiked.

A new vigor had infused the old man as he opened the first box of his brother's things, the treasure he had been seeking right at the very top. That beaten up old coat, the leather had a few dingy patches that appeared with time, but the strange gold star over the left lapel still remained, along with the little airplane patch that was only just beginning to lose its' color.

Behind him he heard the subtle intake of his grandson's breath. This was practically the family treasure after all.

"For first things, I'm sure my brother would have wanted you to have his coat, besides I know you don' t have a good one and it'll be cold when you get over there, so no arguments with me on it." The grin on his face widened as he dug a little deeper in the box, his skinny, brittle fingers quickly alighting upon the final piece of memory he wanted to bring to light.

It was a brittle looking envelope, aged nearly yellow with time, though the fact it still existed was a testament to loving reverence with which it'd been handled over the decades. Arthur's golden brows drew together in a slight show of curious confusion as he watched the old man handle the envelope, his fingers deftly pulling the smallish scrap of paper from its aged depths before handing it over.

"I know it's a long shot, but if it's even remotely possible...I'd like you to find a way to thank the man that sent this letter. He gave me hope when I found that my brother was gone." There was the calm acceptance of past pain slipping into his tone, but it was combined with that optimism that seemed to pervade their family stronger than most.

Alfred nodded a show of acquiescence as he carefully opened the ancient letter to peruse the contents. Of all the things he'd come to expect, this was not one of them...He'd really have to start believing in the impossible at this point.

Dear Mr. Thomas Jones,

I truly hope you don't mind my formality, but I am terrible with words and I feel that I must fulfill this task with all the solemnity that I contain inside this body. I'm sure you haven't heard of me, but I'm a friend of your brother Alfred...Or...I suppose I should say that I was. I truly hate to be the bearer of bad news, but even then I'm sure you have been contacted by the officials of your military of the state of your sibling.

I regret to inform you of his death, but please let me tell you that he died nothing short of a hero. He rushed out into the front lines ahead of our allied troops in an attempt to quell a surprise attack by our Nazi enemies. He fell from the sky and continued to fight for what I know to be a long time as I was there beside him...There is not a one like him, and I shall be eternally grateful for the things he did not only for our fellow man, but for myself.

He was of a pure heart, and almost blind courage. (Though he assured me that was a family trait on more than one occasion.) And, as much as it pains me to admit...He took the shots meant for myself, and that is not a debt I believe I can ever properly repay. But I will not let his gift go to waste, already I have the start of a family on the way here, as I'm sure he would have were he still here among us. I would just merely like to offer you my most humble condolences and a promise that any of your folk will be warmly received should they ever visit.

But, more than anything, I have one final message to relay from your brother. He would like me to tell you to never give up on life, on your family and on those you care about. Even when it seems darkest, there is no distance that can separate you from that passion that drives you, from the love that inspires you. I truly hope his words may be of some help, they inspire me daily. Thank you, and my most humble condolences be with you and your family once more.

Best Regards, James Kirkland.

There were bumps where the pen that had been used seemed to have been pressed into the paper with more than the usual vigor, along with a few splotches that were probably from tears shed by either party. And as for Alfred, he had goosebumps as he read over the contents one, two, three more times. By the end he'd committed the words to memory.

"I'm not quite sure if I'll find this man in particular Grampa...But I'm almost positive that I know his relative, maybe even grandson. So you have my best promise that I'll do everything in my power to relay your message." The two men held the others' gaze for what was a very long moment, the past relaying a somber truth to the future.

"Thank you Alfred, all I ask is that you come home in one piece okay?" The younger man smiled faintly as he observed his favorite relative, those eyes that had seen so much, and held on to one of the world's most obvious...and most often overlooked truths.

"I promise Grampa."

The next is the final chapter. I was gonna post it all together but it's really long...So...see ya there! 3