Arthur's chest lightened, his blood rushed to his head, he stared unbelieving, unseeing. And then he laughed. He actually laughed. He didn't remember the last time he had laughed- certainly not before Alfred left. He could see Berwald speaking, but his lips seemed to move soundlessly.

Alfred was alive.

Arthur was so relieved he almost sank to his knees. All this time, he thought that Alfred was dead, gone, that he would never be able to kiss him or hold him again. He would be able to- he would have the rest of their lives to. Color returned to his world, life had meaning again, he had something to live for. He could feel tears pricking in his eyes. "Thank you, Berwald, thank you..."

The smallest of smiles softened his severe features. Alfred was right- he wasn't frightening at all.

Berwald looked as if he remembered something. He began feeling the crack between the hospital bed and the wall before withdrawing a letter and holding it out to Arthur. "For my wife. They kept taking away my letters."

Arthur scanned the address. "I know this place. I can take it to him."

Berwald's smile widened until it really was one. "Thanks. Means a lot."

Arthur couldn't help smiling himself. "You gave everything back to me. This is nothing."

The nurse knocked on the door before walking in. Arthur quickly put the letter in his pocket. "Visiting hours are ending."

"Of course." He nodded to Berwald. "Thank you, really. Good luck."

.

The first thing Arthur did was tell Heracles and Kiku what had happened. It was like the difference between night and day- life was suddenly back in Kiku's eyes and Heracles lit up. Arthur was elated himself. Alfred would be home soon. He would see him again. Everything was going to be okay.

The second thing Arthur did was take the letter to Tino. The address was in the more residential part of the city, leading to a small brick house surrounded by a little fence and a garden. When Arthur rang the doorbell, a small boy answered followed by a little dog, barking at his feet.

The boy was only nine or ten but his pale eyes were hollow and much older than the rest of him, his face hopeless. His blond hair was unkempt, his fingers gripped the doorknob too hard. "You're an angel, aren't you." His voice was monotone, expressionless. "You're an angel, and you're here to take me to my papa, because he's dead." He didn't cry, his voice didn't tremble. He seemed numb, and tired, far too tired for a child.

"Peter, please, don't be ridiculous." Another man entered the doorway, young, blond hair and light eyes. He took Peter's hand in his. He looked up to Arthur slowly. "What do you need?"

"I have a letter, for Tino." Arthur withdrew it from his pocket.

"That's me." Tino simply seemed confused now. "You could have just put it in the mailbox, you know."

"It's from Berwald."

Tino stepped back from the door as if he had been hit. His eyes were wide. "No. He's dead, isn't he."

"Papa really is dead?" Peter just looked confused, contrary to how he was earlier. "He told me he would come home. He told me he would show me how to make model airplanes. He's coming home, right, mama?" He turned back to Arthur. "Are you really going to take me to him?"

"He's coming home." Arthur couldn't stop a tiny smile. "Tino, he's alive and well." He held the letter out to him. Tino took it immediately, opening it and reading its contents. His hands were trembling.

"Did you hear that, mama? Papa's coming home!" Peter's face lit up and he looked like a normal, happy kid. He threw himself at Arthur, hugging him. "He's coming home! Thank you, mister angel!"

Tino steadied himself against the doorframe, holding the letter to his chest. Tears formed in his eyes, slid down his face. He looked up to Arthur and smiled.

"Thank you."

.

Arthur spent most of his time in Harmony House after that. He liked having a sense of purpose again, something to live for. He made sure he slept, that he ate, that he shaved. The past month he hadn't done much of any of those- he didn't see a point to it.

Now he did, because Alfred was alive.

Francis had a big event coming up. The Bad Touch Trio was going to perform on the top of their apartment block and he was hardly home because of all the practice. He was planning on moving out soon with Antonio and Gilbert to an apartment of their own.

Kiku was completely sober now. He swore that he would quit weed altogether and focus on getting a college degree. He had graduated from high school and left behind all the negativity with it. He had been through a lot, the poor kid, but he was going to start fresh. Heracles himself had gone sober a while back and was now working hard as a proper architect.

Arthur had never been more proud.

He visited Berwald as well. He was making a swift recovery. Sometimes, Tino and Peter would be there, sometimes they were alone, but Arthur didn't mind. Berwald was good company. He didn't talk much, but whenever he did, it was always interesting or insightful.

Soon, he was released from the hospital completely. His leg healed as much as it ever would, and though he walked with a slight limp, he would be alright.

Arthur couldn't help but wonder when Alfred would be released. He must have been wounded terribly. Arthur wouldn't let himself think of that. Alfred was alive, and he would be back soon, and that's what mattered.

And so July turned to August. The performance drew closer until the day truly arrived. Antonio was nervous, Gilbert kept pacing around the room, saying how awesome they were going to be and how they were going to amaze everyone, and Francis sat back and watched it all happen. Arthur had to leave soon after to work in the shop until they did preform. He was in the middle of getting a record for a customer when the street suddenly blared to life with music. He didn't recognize the song- it must have been original. The more he listened, the more impressed he became; they were quite good. The record eluded him, though, and he looked harder, trying to be able to get out there and see them himself.

The song came to an end, followed by a more gentle song Arthur did indeed recognize.

"Here comes the sun..."

He finally found the record, pulling it down and ringing it up just as Kiku and Heracles ran into the store.

"Arthur, you have to come with me right now." Kiku was grinning. "You have got to see this!"

"One moment." He finished, handing the record to his customer. Here Comes the Sun came to its conclusion as he followed Kiku out the shop. There seemed to be a disturbance on the roof- the music had briefly stopped and someone was talking to someone else he couldn't see. Kiku pulled him into the apartment complex across from theirs and up the stairs toward the roof.

"Is this alright? Aren't we trespassing or something?" Arthur kept trying to see out the windows to their apartment but Kiku wouldn't slow down at all.

"Just keep going." Heracles smiled. "There's something you'll want to see."

They were almost to the roof when the music started up again.

"Who knows how long I've loved you..."

Arthur couldn't move. The shock was like a splash of icy water, freezing him to the spot. He felt dizzy, almost as if he would faint.

"You know I love you still."

He would recognize that voice anywhere. It had teased him, laughed with him, sang to him, cried with him.

"Will I wait a lonely lifetime?"

It was the voice in his dreams, the voice that really couldn't sing, the voice that calmed him whenever he heard it.

"If you want me to, I will."

Arthur told himself to move, forced himself to move, and he ran up the stairs and threw open the door. He raced to the edge of the roof.

His world ended, the ground broke apart at his feet, the sky turned dark, the music disappeared, his breath caught in his lungs, and it began again. He couldn't believe it. He could only stare at the band on the other roof, not daring to hope, not daring to believe.

Alfred was singing. Alfred was on the roof, holding the microphone, singing their song. His hair shone gold in the sunlight, he was wearing his bloody ridiculous bomber jacket, he was there, he was real, and this wasn't a dream. Arthur leaned onto Kiku for support, suddenly too weak to keep standing.

Alfred was back.

He could hear the music again, the crowd cheering below. Kiku was talking beside him, but he could hardly understand. Something about finding Alfred and running to him right after. He was only hearing one thing.

"And when at last I find you, our song will fill the air."

Arthur could feel tears rising in his eyes. He couldn't control it anymore. Alfred was alive, he was okay, he was right in front of him. Alfred was singing their song.

"Sing it loud so I can hear you."

Arthur tried to understand, tried to believe he wasn't dreaming. This was too incredible, too amazing.

"Make it easy to be near you."

Joy swelled in his chest. He felt a rush of exhilaration, of warmth, of pride.

"For the things you do endear you to me, oh, for you..."

This was his Alfred. His Alfred, who survived the hell of Vietnam and made it back.

"I will."

Alfred stepped back from the microphone, waved to the crowd, walked back into the apartment, and then Arthur was running. He ran down the stairs, out into the crowd, up into his apartment, and stopped before 909.

The door was open. He walked slowly, nervously to it. The last time he thought he found Alfred it wasn't him. What if he just imagined this all?

He walked inside and closed the door behind him. He was afraid to turn around. What if this wasn't real, if it was just a dream, if he would wake up cold and alone?

"Arthur."

At that whisper, Arthur spun around. Alfred was there, still beautiful and charming and perfect. His eyes were like the sky, his grin was carefree. Arthur shook his head, leaned on the door for support. "I thought you died." It was the only thing he could say.

"Didn't I promise I would come back?" Alfred took a step closer to him.

"I'm dreaming." Arthur shook his head again. "The letter said you weren't going to survive... Berwald said you were alive, but it's been so long, and..." He stopped trying to make sense of it. He stopped trying to make sense of any of it. Alfred was alive, standing in front of him, and that's all that mattered. Suddenly, he couldn't control himself; he tackled Alfred in a hug, buried his face in the collar of his jacket, tried to convince himself that this was really happening. He was afraid to believe after everything. "If this is a dream, I don't ever want to wake up."

Alfred laughed softly. "Neither do I."

Arthur pulled back, put his hands on the sides of Alfred's face. "Are you really real?" He could only whisper. "Is this really not a dream?"

"I promise." Alfred put his hand over Arthur's. He just barely noticed the scars that covered it. "This isn't a dream."

Arthur couldn't stop an overjoyed laugh as he threw his arms around Alfred again, breathing in his scent. Alfred's arms were around him, Alfred's hand was tangled in his hair, Alfred was really back. It was impossible, but here he was. Arthur couldn't stop tears from rising again. "How... I don't..." He couldn't finish. He was completely overwhelmed.

"I promised you I would come back. I had to survive for that." Alfred's arms tightened around him. "No matter what those Vietnamese did to me, I would survive for you."

Arthur took it all in; Alfred's arms around him, his scent, simply being with him... He could stay like this forever. He didn't intend to ever be separated from Alfred again.

After a long moment, Alfred spoke. "Hey, Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"I know this might be a bit untoward but I've been absolutely dying to, so..." He trailed off uncertainly. "Could I kiss you?"

How cute. Alfred was nervous. He was absolutely perfect. Arthur grinned, pulling back to face him. "Do you really need to ask?" He leaned in and closed the distance between them.

The kiss was warm, it was perfect, it was everything he had wanted. Every gap, every crack every part of him that missed Alfred, all of it was filled. It was promise, because Alfred was real, he was back, he was here and kissing him. His arms were around Arthur, his hand was tangled in his hair, and Alfred pulled him closer until they were touching from chest to hip. Arthur's head was spinning and his breath was coming fast and he just managed to pull away before things weren't so innocent. "Alfred."

Alfred grinned and played with Arthur's hair. "Yes, darlin'?"

Arthur's heart still leapt at that nickname. "I love you."

"You've only said that once before." Alfred winked. "Do it again."

He was ridiculous and bloody irritating and beautiful and perfect and Arthur was the luckiest man alive. "I love you, Alfred Jones." And he would never stop.

.

November.

"Hey, no looking!"

"For the fiftieth time, I am not looking, Alfred. Just where are you taking me?"

"You'll see, you'll see..."

The past four months passed in a blur. It was everything Arthur could have ever wanted and more. Harmony House became wildly popular until they had to expand it and hire new staff. Arthur would still sometimes work there, behind the desk, just because of all of the memories. His relationship with Alfred was built in that shop. And that was everything to him.

The Bad Touch Trio began selling records, which would be bought as soon as they were shipped in. Francis had moved out into an apartment with Antonio and Gilbert. They had become celebrities after the roof performance. Alfred would sometimes be recognized as well.

Heracles had become a rather successful architect and Kiku was well on his way to being a psychologist. They both had moved out a while back, too, taking the cats with them. It had become a little lonely in the apartment without them all.

And today, Alfred had dragged him out to god knows where, bent on showing whatever it was to him. Finally, Alfred removed his hands. Arthur blinked in the sudden light, waiting for his eyes to adjust. When they did, his mouth dropped open.

"This is ours?"

Before him was a house, cardboard-cutout American dream. The walls were white paneling, there was a small, neat garden, all enclosed by a white picket fence. It was like a dream come true.

Alfred pressed keys into his hand. Arthur noticed his bracelet glint in the light- he didn't think Alfred would ever take it off. "Completely." He was grinning that ridiculous, gorgeous grin. "Heracles designed it and oversaw it, you know."

It was only then he noticed Heracles standing off to the side. "Alfred, are you sure you don't want another cat door?"

Alfred sighed. "I am entirely sure, Heracles. You put in five already and we don't even have a cat. I think we're good on the cat door."

"You know, Muffin did just have kittens..."

Arthur just laughed. These people were all so ridiculous and he loved every one of them. "I'd actually like to have a kitten."

Heracles' eyes lit up. "Cats are nice. Cats are wonderful. Especially their stomachs. They're so fluffy and soft. And their purring. And-"

"Jones?"

Heracles trailed off as Alfred turned toward the voice. Berwald stood in the street, Tino and Peter beside him. The same little dog he had seen before was at their feet, Peter holding his leash.

Alfred blinked in surprise. "Oxensternia."

The smallest of smiles was on Berwald's face. "You survived."

Alfred laughed. "That was nothing. I've seen worse."

Berwald just shook his head. "Moving in?"

"Yup. With my..." Alfred threw his arm around Arthur and winked. "Wife."

Berwald's smile widened. Tino turned bright red. "For the last time, Berwald, I am not your wife-"

"Mister angel?" Peter peered at him. "You brought my papa back. I don't need anything else. I'm happy like this."

Arthur didn't know what he felt, only that it made his throat tighten. Peter was precious. Arthur was so, so glad Berwald made it back.

Berwald strode forward, his gait uneven, his left leg dragging behind him. He held his hand out to Alfred. "Congratulations on surviving, Alfred."

Alfred shook it with a scarred hand. There was something sad, something pained in his eyes. "Congratulations, Berwald."

Peter wandered up to Heracles, the dog trailing behind him. "Hello. This is Hanatamago, my dog. Do you like dogs?"

Heracles crouched down to be level with him. "I like cats better, but this one is pretty cute."

Tino walked up to Arthur, smiling. "You know, I never thanked you properly. And you seem like a very nice person, and I'm your neighbor, so, hello. I'm Tino Väinämöinen, but no one can ever pronounce that. Just call me Tino."

"Arthur." He grinned. He knew would like it here. And when Alfred looked over at him and smiled, he was certain.

He would like it wherever Alfred was.

.

February.

Alfred fiddled with the radio while Arthur read a book and tried not to be distracted by the kitten that kept climbing up his pants. Heracles had given her to them a few weeks ago. She was a little ball of energy, nipping and batting at their fingers and running around the house at the unholy hours of the morning. "We should really give her a name, you know."

Alfred stood up, seemingly satisfied with the station he landed on. "I'm horrible at names. Just name her something she looks like." He came and sat next to Arthur, putting his arm around his shoulders.

What did she look like? She was a little white ball of fluff, like a cream puff, or a cloud, or... "Egg. She looks like an Egg." It was ridiculous. It was perfect.

"Are you really suggesting we name our cat Egg?" At Arthur's very serious nod, Alfred snorted. "Heracles gave her to us. A tribute."

Arthur pulled Egg off his pants and onto his lap. She nibbled at his fingers. "I would drink to that."

"Please don't. You were a handful the last time you did."

The song on the radio faded away and the announcer came on: "Next up we have the new hit, Animals, by the Bad Touch Trio..."

"No way." Alfred jumped up and turned up the radio. Francis' vocals, Antonio's guitar, and Gilbert's drums soon filled the room. "No way! Get me the phone. I have to call them."

Francis might have been a right awful bastard most of the time and he might have gotten on every last one of Arthur's nerves, but he sure did have quite the voice.

Better than Alfred, at least.

.

March.

It had been a year since Arthur had met Alfred. It had been a year since that life-altering knock at the door, since Arthur had escaped his village and entered a new, beautiful life. It had been exhilarating, it had been confusing, it had been crazy, it had been devastating, but Arthur knew he would do it all over again. Alfred was worth it.

Alfred, who's hands were hot on his hips and lips on his throat, Alfred, who was on top of him, Alfred, who Arthur was clinging almost desperately to, Alfred, who Arthur wanted more than he had ever wanted anyone, and he took Alfred's shirt off and-

Froze.

Alfred's torso was covered in mottled scars, stretching to his shoulders and faintly along his stomach. His forearms and hands were scarred as well, dark against his skin.

And it suddenly hit him, that Alfred was truly in the war, that he was truly injured. His chest ached, his eyes burned with tears. Alfred should have never had to endure that. Alfred never had a place in that war to begin with.

Alfred seemed to realize what he was thinking and immediately looked away. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "They set the jungle on fire and I was caught in it. I couldn't escape until Berwald pulled me out, but I was left with this." Alfred sat back and buried his face in his hands. "It's disgusting, isn't it? I just wanted to be your hero. I wanted to be someone you were proud of. Now I'm like this."

Arthur was certain his heart was breaking. Even if he were scarred, it didn't matter. He was still gorgeous and perfect. Arthur would never think he wasn't. He had never seen Alfred so insecure like this; he never wanted to again. "Love, you're beautiful. And you don't have to try to be my hero." Arthur gently took Alfred's hands from his face. "You always were."

Arthur kissed him slowly, pulled him close again, tried to show him it was alright. A few scars meant nothing. They didn't change anything. Alfred soon understood and they were back in the passion of it all. It didn't matter to him that Alfred was scarred, or a man, or any of that anymore. Arthur was so in love with him, and he was damned lucky that Alfred loved him back.

When Alfred was drifting off, then, their limbs tangled and their skin still cooling, Arthur knew he was the most perfect thing in the entire world. Arthur was glad he ended up in Apartment 909, he was glad to have met someone like Alfred, he was glad he finally saved up enough to leave his shipyard and village behind. He found something so unbelievable and wonderful and life-changing that he would never want it any other way.

Some things might never be resolved. Matthew might never return. And that was alright. The war would end someday. Things would get better than they already were, and this entire war would someday become a distant memory.

Arthur could feel his eyelids drooping. He didn't mind. He was perfectly content to fall asleep. In fact, here in Alfred's arms, he couldn't imagine anything better. This time, he wasn't afraid, or devastated, or scared. This time, Alfred would be there when Arthur awoke.

And this was only the beginning.

The End.