It had started in Canada. A few people, no more than five. They all began the same. A fever that seemed perfectly common. Vomiting and cough, weakness. It was normal and no one paid it much mind. Until it got worse. Much, much worse. Suddenly more people came down with the same sickness. And the ones who were sick the longest couldn't keep food down anymore. If they were lucky they'd die of starvation. If they were unlucky...

They started seeing things. No one could really tell what exactly it was they were seeing. Many just stared into space in horror and screamed, pulling at sheets and their caretaker's clothing and arms. Crying and begging for help. For someone to save them.

And then they died.

No signs, no slow spiral down into death. They just stopped living. The air around them would vibrate with horror, lilting and echoing off walls. They'd scream until their voices were ragged. And within the span of seconds it took for them to take another breath, nothing. Hundreds of people died like this within a couple months. Doctors were baffled and Disease Controls everywhere were working constantly to figure the infection out. But nothing made sense, and more people were getting sick. Suddenly, it appeared in other places. Europe and South America, places nowhere close to where the first of the deaths occurred. Now the world was feeling unsettled. Doctors started making their best guesses. Patients started taking anything they could get their hands on. But nothing ever worked. As the disease got more aggressive, Governments tried assuaging any fear they could. Advising people to stay indoors, boil their water, cook their meats well past recommended temperatures. Everyone did whatever they could to survive. And for a while it worked. Less people were dying. Fear subsided what little it could in the times.

No one thought it could get worse. The disease didn't start with a fever anymore. Without warning, anyone infected became anemic, often blacking out and waking up in stupors. Dehydration set in no matter how much water people drank. The hallucinations got worse. More violent. The infected became enraged and lashed out at anyone near when a wave of hallucinations hit. By now hundreds of thousands around the world had died and it didn't look like there was any hope of it ending. The horror only escalated when patients started crying blood. The disease that had up until then gone nameless, bearing only the moniker "Contagion X" now toted the nickname "The Red Death". No one lived long after that stage. Governments did all they could to assure people everything would be okay. Gas masks were issued in case the disease was airborne. No one was pleased. They had been burning the dead for months now, unable to bury them in such large quantities.

The chaos spread when suddenly food banks and hospitals shut down. Buildings were burned and riots filled the streets of large cities. Robberies and arson shot up in number as people looted whatever they needed to survive. Groups from every part of the world claimed that this was the end. This was raprure. And one by one, every country shut down completely. Government simply ceased to exist, unable to handle the pressure of the pandemic. The world was thrown into ruin. People fought and killed each other for things that used to be plentiful. Power grids went down everywhere, powered only by solar panels, that is if there were any. And then when it was it's worst, when everyone had lost hope and faced death every time they woke up, people just stopped dying. No more hallucinations and no more Red Death. Some people recovered. It took almost a year before anyone realized it was over. And slowly, for most, life began again. People rallied together in small communities and rebuilt life.

But there was still horror in this new world. Still people who remembered the fear and the bloody tears. Children left orphaned, the memory of their parents, being caught in the crossfire of robberies and raids, their mothers protecting them and shielding them from men in black masks with guns.

Yelling "Mom" and "Dad".

"Stay back!"

"Get down get down!" he yelled above the screeching noise around them.

"Mom!" a child holding his new glasses, now broken in his hands, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he struggled against his cousin.

"SHUT UP GET DOWN! STAY TOGETHER." he screamed and turned around, seeing only the black figure of an older boy against a blistering fire raise a gun shakily. He pulled his cousins to his chest as the sound of gunfire deafened him. He barely registered the bodies of two women crumpling to the ground.

"MOM!"

Arthur woke up sweating, his shirt sticking to him and the blanket all but smothering him. He threw the blanket off of himself and swung his legs off the bed. His heart was pounding. Taking a deep breath Arthur pushed his hair off of his forehead. It had been years and yet he could still replay that moment in his head like it was just the other night.

The morning light filtered through the curtains above his bed. The boys had gone to work hours ago, before the sun even broke the dark horizon. If Arthur got around soon enough he would be able to catch them before lunch. So up Arthur got. He figured Matthew would be asking about Gilbert so a trip to the post office would be warranted just in case.

When he got to the office he was surprised to see a message for him alongside Matthew's. Arthur knew who it was from instantly. His boss's handwriting was small, bold, and curt, almost laughably ironic when held up to the man. As it was opened he'd hoped to God it wasn't another assignment. Giving it a quick skimming, Arthur sighed in relief.

The farm was a stark contrast to Arthur's dark dream earlier. The land stretched for acres, it's vibrant green grass interrupted only by large plots of dark dirt gardens on one side and a worn white fenced pasture on the other. The sun came down in what seemed like pure brilliance that coated everything with a golden glow. Arthur stood under a tree near the big maroon barn that Alfred and Matthew often spent a lot of their day in. It was a massive thing. Meant originally to hold large amounts of livestock for butchering and dairy. The once open interior was sectioned off for a million different uses, but usually to hold the enormous amount of produce supplied to farmer's markets, trading centers, and individual vendors across several counties in the Texan Territory.

Arthur didn't move. He just waited until the boys were done with their work for a moment. Matthew had spotted him and waved two fingers at him before continuing what he was doing. Which currently was fixing up the Old Man's Monte. Matthew had tried to explain exactly what excited him so much about the old car, something about "A Monte Carlo from '70? The thing's basically the best thing to ever happen." or whatever. Alfred wasn't too far from his brother. He and several boys were loading up a pickup truck with hay and feed. One boy he recognized as Alfred's friend Scotty. He was at least a foot taller than the other boys and his hair was an ungodly bright ginger. He stood out against the other farmhands, who ranged from dark to fair skinned, Scotty being fairer than even Matthew. What amazed Arthur more about the boy than his amazing strength, was that he actually put up with Alfred without choking him.

When the boys finished, Alfred slammed the tailgate shut and wiped his hands on his jeans as the car took off to some far reach of the farm. Matthew wiped his hands on a bandanna and joined his brother as he walked towards Arthur, who stepped away from leaning against the rough bark of the tree.

"Why're you here?" Alfred asked once they were all under the shifting shade of leaves.

Arthur shot him a look that was anything but amused. "Hello to you too." His gaze shifted back over to Matthew, "I have good news." he smirked when the younger boy's face lit up.

Matthew took the letter from Arthur's hand and ripped it open to reveal two or three pieces of lined paper with messy scrawling writing on both sides of every page. He smiled brightly and Arthur turned his attention to Alfred so Matthew could read in relative peace.

"Anyway," Arthur starts. "I got a letter from Ivan."

Alfred frowns at the name.

"Luckily not an assignment. He's letting me off for a week or two. So looks like you'll be seeing more of me around for the time being." He explains. Alfred's eyes tell Arthur he's happy to hear that, but his petulant frown tells him he wishes it were more permanent. Arthur wouldn't be able to begin to tell Alfred how much he wished the same. But without this job they'd have nothing.

Alfred sensed another sermon coming on so he changed the subject.

"Didja hear about the Florida Territory?" He questioned. It seemed to work. His cousin looked at him with curiosity.

"No. Not that I know of. Why?"

Alfred took his glasses off and rubbed them with his shirt while he talked "I've been hearing about looters down near the Cape. Everyone's been talking."

Looters? Well that wasn't new. Though, Arthur thought he would have heard about that at some point. And while it was unlikely they'd move from the treasure trove Cape Canaveral brought in daily, he got a tugging feeling that told him he should double check that their doors were locked at night.

"Nothing new. Bit surprised I haven't heard a word of it from anyone. Though I wouldn't think Alex would know anything being he's so far away. He's the only reason I go any more south than we already are." Arthur said nonchalantly. It was probably nothing anyway.

The rustling of paper brings Matthew back into the conversation. Alfred, not missing a beat jumps on the chance to antagonize him.

"So what was that all about hmmm?" He asked slyly.

"None of your business that's what." The younger blond replied.

"Aww come on Mattie let me read!" Alfred whined as he reached for the letter Matthew held away from him. "I'm just curious!"

"Dude get the fuck off me. Alfred stop!" He yelled and tried to push his brother off as he wound his arm around Matthew's neck and a leg around his knees.

"Hey this is my job ok I wanna make sure this creep isn't fucking with my little bro." He huffed as Matthew finally pushed the other off of him. "What is it you two talk about anyway? You barely have anything in common besides cars. Does he wax poetic? Write you sonnets?" Alfred sighs dramatically, leaning against his brother, hand on his forehead.

"Or." He grinned. "Are the letters a bit more, well, graphic?" He wags his eyebrow at a clearly not amused and suddenly red Matthew.

"Alfred shut the hell up and leave your brother alone. Besides I highly doubt that's the case am I right Matthew?" Arthur chides, and when no answer comes and Matthew gets even redder Alfred starts laughing obnoxiously.

"Oh my god they are! That's fucking gross oh my god. In letters?" Alfred was overjoyed at his brother's embarrassment.

"Well it's not like these things don't happen. And people did it with their phones a long time ago so shut up!" Matthew grumbled.

Arthur rolled his eyes at the two. They were both young and stupid. But he knew they were growing up and a part of him didn't feel too comfortable with it. It felt like two months ago Alfred needed help tying his shoes and Matthew wanted to sleep with him during thunderstorms. He also made a mental note to pay a visit to Gilbert when he was up north.

"Both of you get back to work for fucks sake what am I going to do with you?" Arthur complained, shooing them off and telling them he'll be at the house when they're done for the day.

Which wasn't really all that long after all.

"You are by far the biggest idiot I've ever met." Arthur chided as he looked over Alfred's arm worriedly. He'd somehow managed to burn himself while setting some of the old stable hay on fire, why Alfred was doing that in the first place was still a mystery. Arthur figured if he asked he would get an answer similar to "Well we don't use it anyway, and we had lighter fluid so...".

When Arthur got up from the table Matthew took his place and set a cold wet towel over the burn. "You'll be lucky if it doesn't blister." He commented.

Arthur knew Alex would have something for it. "Wonderful. Another trip."

Francis' head had been fuzzy for quite a while and the only thing he registered when he was actually awake was movement, light, and heat. Intense heat. And then he would black out again. And then dirt.

He woke for the seemingly hundredth time since he'd first been, what? Kidnapped? If so he'd been out most of the time and he seriously doubted whoever did this would just kidnap him so they could leave him out in the middle of nowhere. Sitting up Francis registered that it was night and fairly cold. His head felt like lead and he moved sluggishly.

Francis Bonnefoy realized he had absolutely no idea where he was.

"Well, this is certainly not what I had in mind." He muttered angrily in French.

Francis took a few moments to regain what little composure he had before standing up and wobbling to his feet. Grimacing, he tried to dust himself off. Looking around it didn't seem like there were any signs of life. No houses or stores or the ever present sound of people in general. But there were train tracks. They were laid in never ending stretches going two directions. Which directions, Francis did not know. But he looked at them as if they had been the cause of this mess, frowning sharply in aggravation. If anything good could come of them he would be able to walk his way to civilization. If not, well, he preferred not to think too hard on the subject. So with a sigh, Francis chose a direction. Which he almost completely regretted. The chill of the night seeped through his thin shirt. His suit jacket had mysteriously disappeared, and if the tracks ever did come to any sort of end they weren't showing it. If he were being honest he would say he most certainly would have given up by now. But the persistent chill and several noises in the night unsettled him too much to convince him to sit down.

And if he were willing to let his pride slip a bit, he would admit the sight of a small town silhouetted by the rising sun almost made him want to cry. He had made his weary way into town by the time the sun bathed everything in a slightly less chilly blanket of light. No one was out of their homes at this time of day but Francis was just happy to feel cement under his feet instead of dirt. Out of the corner of his eye a flash of blue caught his attention. Near the corner of a street a young girl in a blue dress was sweeping off the curb, a neon "Open" sign flashing dully in the fresh daylight. Francis could hear her humming faintly from where he stood.

"Miss?" He called in English.

The girl looked up and swung her head back and forth before spotting Francis. She looked at him wide eyed, but didn't run. Francis hobbled across the street and noted that his ankle was twinging with pain every other step. The girl only stood there as he approached.

"Hello." Francis offered with a slight smile that did nothing to hide his chattering teeth.

There was no reply.

"Do you speak English?" He asked, unsure. He wasn't exactly sure just how far from the Florida Territory he had been taken. For all he knew he might not even be on the landmass that used to be the United States of America.

The girl shook her head.

"But you understand?"

A nod and a smile.

Francis rubbed his arm to keep warm. "Do you know where I might find somewhere to stay?" His usual flair in speech was not present, mostly because he was slightly sore and frankly too tired to care.

The girl smiled at him and offered her hand, which Francis took. She lead him to the door of the building, pushing it open to let them both in. The inside was warmer, but not by much. The floors and walls were dirty and dingy, as were the metal shelves that were lined up in imperfect rows. Francis rudely wrinkled his nose in disdain. The girl hadn't seen, or if she had, hadn't felt the need to show it. They made their way to the very back of the room towards another door. The girl knocked a couple times and the sound of someone moving around on the other side was followed by the door opening. A tall man with dark skin and dreadlocks stood in front of Francis.

"Hello." was all Francis could manage before he passed out.

Note: Whew! I was beginning to think I'd never post the next chapter! I try and go by the "finish one post one" rule. I was so anxious to get this one up but I had to write another page or so for chapter four before I could. But yeah! A little more Francis here. Originally I hadn't planned for him to meet the girl at Alex's shop but I've found that when following my "outline" I end up adding things from nowhere for pretty much no good reason. But it's better than I expected from the beginning so hey who's complaining?

Also sorry for the very weird info dump at the beginning. I wanted to be vague about "The Fall" for quite some time but then I figured the story had to move on from something so far removed from the actual timeline. The best way I could think of was to tie it in early to Arthur an the boys. Dream ex Machina anyone?