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 And Here We Are

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Join date : 2010-04-29
Age : 25
Location : Looking for a way out of Purgatory.

PostSubject: And Here We Are   Wed Jun 01, 2011 2:03 pm

A/N: This is sort of AU fanfiction, sort of me borrowing names and appearances for the sake of a storyline I really wanted to write. Gawsh, I haven't posted on here in so long, this feels kind of awkward...but enjoy nonetheless~!

And Here We Are

"What?! They can't do that to you! They just can't!" Alfred smiled ruefully, appreciating his lover's complaints, but not really accepting them. After a while, the short, fuming man realized this, and instead chose to direct his wrath at the grinning American. "Wipe that look off of your face, Alfred, this is serious!"

Alfred tried his very best to frown; however, as he hadn't done so in years, it was rather a difficult task. "C'mon, Artie. You know--"

"It's Arthur." The scowl on the Briton's face rivaled the steadily gathering storm clouds in darkness.

"Yeah, yeah, but the point is--"

"I'm tired of that, Alfred!" Arthur snapped, interrupting his partner once again. "Every time I try to talk seriously with you, you just...! You just...!" Tears were gathering at the corners of Arthur's downcast emerald eyes. Being the hero he was, Alfred took initiative and wrapped his arm around the smaller man's shoulder, squeezing gently. Forget being in a public place; if he couldn't comfort his lifelong friend and newfound love when he needed him most, Alfred wouldn't be able to look him in the eye ever again.

"Shh, Arthur, I know. I know it's stupid, unfair, unheroic, and totally un-American, but there's not much we can do. 'Don't ask, don't tell', am I right?" Arthur gave a very unmanly, slightly hysterical shriek at this. Running his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh, Alfred realized he would need to pay a little more attention to what he was saying if he wanted to calm the distressed Englishman. "It was mostly my fault. Well, kind of. The ring probably would've been less noticeable on my hand than with my dog tags, but I really thought it was a good idea!"

Arthur didn't seem to be calming down at all. Uh-oh. If he got any worse, he'd start writing angry letters of protest to the U.S. government, which could lead to yet another night in prison for threatening very important people. "Here, Artie, look at it this way--"

"I just heard the news!" A very distressed Alfred look-alike declared, skidding to a halt in front of the embracing men. "I-is it true? They sent you back...permanently?" The man, Matthew Williams, didn't want to say that word. Sure, it was great to have his twin out of harm's way, but he knew how much fighting for his nation meant to Alfred.

Said American bit down on his lower lip, somehow managing to keep a shaky smile plastered onto his face.

"It's true, Mattie."

Matthew's eyes, an odd shade of violet, widened dramatically. He may have been expecting this answer, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. "But...how?" he whispered, brows furrowed in confusion.


Shrapnel. Every soldier's worst nightmare.

Imagine, that deceptive little canister flying at you; a moment's wait before it blows to bits, and then those bits are suddenly piercing your flesh, digging in deep.

Alfred had never been particularly afraid of death; as a soldier, he was trained to treat every minute as if it were his last. That was not, however, to say that he wanted to die. Given the choice, he would greatly prefer to live. After all, he had a promise to keep.

A promise. Though tiny and fragile, a smile managed to grace Alfred's lips at the thought. He'd broken that promise after all, hadn't he?

Then hands were all over him, cutting layers of thick cloth away and exposing his bare chest to the open air.

Alfred later found himself unable to recall the events that transpired after this. They told him later, of course; those hands had used those knives to cut into him, delving deeper and deeper until they reached the shrapnel. The procedure was ridiculously dangerous and unsanitary, but it was all that could be done to preserve his life.

Meanwhile, someone had removed his ring and dog tags from the ball chains around his neck, checking for a name to contact in case...Well, in case the surgery went badly.

The band was simple, made only of gold with a delicate engraving on the inside: 'Arthur Kirkland'.

A wedding ring. Explicit cause to investigate.

Alfred F. Jones may have been willing to die for his nation, but no longer would his nation allow him to fight for her safety.

~Personally, I don't think the military should discriminate against people because of their sexuality. Sure, the whole "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," policy is in place, but that doesn't mean soldiers can't be discharged for their sexuality.~
~If any of you have factual information to provide on the military's policies as far as all of this is concerned, please share~ I did long, boring research, but I may have missed something.~
~Opinions would be nice too.~
~I'll just go write Remiel now...Aha~

Life is like thunder; powerful, confusing, wonderous, loud, inexplainable, sudden, beautiful in ways you can't even begin to describe, and completely unexpected. Death is like lightning; it strikes even the most powerful things, and shoots through the ground to everyone nearby, leaving them with only a painful aftershock.

Almost dying changes nothing. Dying changes everything.

Cry me a river, build a bridge, and get over it.
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