Listen to "Moonlight Shadow" by Mike Oldfield for the mood.

Francis and Hindley went home, hoping that now they could explore their new life together. However, Hindley was covered in cuts and bruises from his fight with Francis Marcel. They hadn't really hurt him at first, but by the time they both managed to get back to the mansion, every bone in his body hurt, and the bruises seemed worse than ever. Francis got a bath ready for him, taking warm water from Mrs Bailey's stove that she always kept on in the kitchen. There was a little utility room in the back so, getting a tin bath, he filled it up and made sure it was of a reasonable temperature. Hindley hadn't expected this, he was exhausted and in pain, but Francis was there for him.

"Come on…" he said "Lets sort you out…."

Francis led him to the bath he'd prepared. The room was lit up in soft candle light and was so relaxing. Hindley looked to Francis, thinking how decent and thoughtful he was. "You did this for me?" he asked. "But… why?"

"Because you're just adorable…" Francis replied. "And I couldn't help but notice those bruises, you must have fought Francis Marcel like hell on Earth."

"Oh… well it was ferocious. Mrs Bailey and Mr Townsend seem to have cleaned up most of the mess though…" He replied as Francis started to undress him, first by taking off his jacket and then his waistcoat and shirt.

"I expect those cuts and bruises will be hurting you by now." Francis said softly. "What did he do to you?" He looked down at the state of Hindley's body as he undressed him. It was horrific. "Oh my God, what in the world?"

"Trust me you're worth it…" Hindley mumbled and kissed him. "You should have seen the state of him… I gave him what for…" he said. "I won… ok I know it doesn't look like it but I won…"

"Oh Hindley…" sighed Francis and hugged him. "Lets get you into this bath…"

Gently he helped him in and started to wash his cuts and bruises. "So…why do you smell like Sea Bass?" he asked.

"Fish fight…" Hindley said with a little smile. "Never ever challenge an Englishman to a fish fight…" He mumbled and allowed Francis to clean him up.

"Also… where is Francis Marcel now?"

"You know… that was the strangest thing." Hindley said as Francis continued to clean his wounds. "I came across that time machine thingy… and sent him into the future. So … now France doesn't have Francis Marcel, but you are here, and he's not going to come back so I had the idea that you'd take his place…"

"What?" Francis stopped and looked at him. "Pretend I'm him? Do you think I can get away with it?"

"I am sure of it…" Hindley replied. "And you know… I wonder what will happen to Marcel in the future…"

"I wonder… moreso I wonder why Arthur sent the backpack… I mean… he must have sent it right?" Francis mused as he washed away the blood from Hindley's body. He writhed in pain as he touched him.

"Oh…I am sorry Mon Cher…" He uttered. "Did I hurt you?"

"Everything hurts…" Hindley replied. "Every part of me…"

"Is there anywhere that doesn't hurt?"

Hindley pointed to a spot on his chest. "Here…" He mumbled and Francis leaned over and kissed that spot. Hindley then pointed to a spot on his cheek. "And here…" he said and Francis kissed that spot on his cheek. Hindley then pointed to his lips "Right here…" he whispered, and Francis gave him a gentle kiss that melted into a deeper kiss.

In the year 1946, Arthur had found an axe and was about to destroy his beautiful machine that he'd worked so carefully on. As he raised the axe, before he'd got a chance to do anything, there was the sound of the doorbell and he went to answer it. The postman handed him a very old looking envelope and smiled. "Sir, this was in our vault for you with instructions to hand it to you on this day, its been there since 1828" he said. "And I'll need you to sign for it."

"Oh… alright…" Arthur uttered as he took the letter and signed his name. Opening it he saw that it was from Francis all the way from the past.

"Oh my God!" he gasped as he sat down to read it.

Dear Arthur

Suffice to say that you were right. Lord Hindley is a monster, and I don't know if I will survive, so you must help me, please I beg of you to help me. I need you to send the backpack machine, so that I can use it to get home. Trust me it is better if you do not come here yourself, as Hindley might try to hurt you… please send the backpack… help me Arthur.

Love

Francis.

Immediately after reading it, Arthur found the backpack, the smaller version of his machine and placed it in the chamber. The machine did its usual thing, started up and was playing its usual strange tunes etc, but when it stopped, the chamber opened and someone was there, someone he knew, it was Francis, and he didn't look good, he looked like he was in a bad way and there was a strange fishy smell. His head was bleeding and he was covered in bruises. Concerned and worried, Arthur ran to him before he collapsed, and caught him. "It's alright, I've got you, oh God…what happened?" He fussed. Francis Marcel was dazed and confused and didn't know where he was, never mind what time period.

"Monsieur..?" He mumbled "Where is this place?"

"You're in the Kirkland mansion… remember?" Arthur replied. "You look terrible…what has he done to you?"

"What? Who?" mumbled Marcel, still unable to remember anything.

"Hindley… he beat you up… this is awful… let me help you…" he uttered, half carrying him to the lounge where he sat him down. "I'm going to destroy that machine now… I promised you before that I would and I will… you just sit here, and recover from your ordeal." He said. "There will be no more time travelling in this house…" He continued as he picked up the axe and started to destroy his once pride and joy.

In 1828 Francis and Hindley snuggled up together after the bath and made their plans for the future. Francis was to be the new France, and it would herald change for the country for sure.

"You looked great in your highwayman outfit you know." Francis said as he cuddled Hindley.

"I'm the Dandy Highwayman…" He mumbled as he slowly fell asleep in his lovers arms. "I love you Francis…"

"Je t'aime Hindley…" he whispered as he watched him fall into a deep sleep. When he had drifted off, he got up and started writing a letter to Arthur. The next day he would take it to the post office with instructions not to deliver till a cold Tuesday in 1946.