A/N: Well, this is it everyone. Thank you all sooo much for reading and reviewing, and I hope this last chapter doesn't disappoint!

It came as no surprise that with Alfred absent, Arthur's time spent in the study was considerably more productive. He accomplished more in the first week after their disagreement than he had in the whole four months since his accident, and by the middle of May, he'd transferred his workspace to the cellar, where he could sketch out enormous chalk circles on the floor and drip candlewax wherever he liked without ruining the carpet.

(Arthur told himself that the quiet of the house was a welcome change, that his uninterrupted hours of work were just what he needed… that he preferred being on his own in general. This, unsurprisingly, did not make him feel better.)

He was fairly certain that he would have the last few kinks worked out within the next fortnight, but there was one issue that he wasn't sure how to approach just yet. When he had attempted the original spell, his intent was to animate the doll he'd bought at Bonnefoy's, to bring it to life, but somehow, he'd reversed it onto himself. The doll was left unchanged, and he had been turned to porcelain instead.

Up until the last few weeks of research, he'd been working with the aim to simply reverse what he had done to himself, not accounting for any outside influences, but the more he thought it out, the more it seemed that it was a flawed approach. He was going to have to replicate the first spell, but change the variables, modeling himself after an example of what he was after and leaving the model unaffected.

Arthur didn't much care for the idea, but it seemed that he was going to need a normal human there with him for the process, and there was only one he knew that he could ask.

Arthur was in the middle of one of his late-night sessions, chanting quietly over a stuffed dog and a baby doll he'd found in Madeleine's room, watching the flow of energy between them and his chalk lines closely—and then the creak and thud of the front door closing upstairs startled him so badly that, instead of the doll sprouting fur, both toys immediately burst into green flame.

He was still stamping out emerald cinders when Alfred poked his head in the door, asking, "Everything alright in here?"

"Fine! It's quite alright," Arthur panted. "Just a little accident. Nothing too serious."

"… Yeah. Sure."

An awkward moment of silence passed between the two of them, and Arthur found himself wishing desperately that things were back to normal, that Alfred would just laugh at his mistake and help him tidy up, and then they could talk about all of his new ideas over a cup of tea on the sofa upstairs like they used to. He already hated the uncomfortable distance, and Alfred hadn't even been back for five minutes.

"So, I'm back."

Alfred looked down at the floor as he spoke, and Arthur realized belatedly that he'd been staring at the man ever since he appeared at the door. He quickly looked away as well.

"And Madeleine?"

"She's… alright, for now."

"For now?"

Alfred pushed the door open all the way, and Arthur couldn't help but notice the slump of his shoulders and the tired way he leaned against the frame. "She's got tuberculosis," he said, but before Arthur could speak, he added, "but she's got a very good chance of recovery. She's not quite over the worst, but she's getting there. I just couldn't stay any longer… It's going to be pretty rough for a while, and I have to manage things here."

The sinking feeling that had hit Arthur at the word tuberculosis lessened considerably, and despite the fact that he knew Madeleine had a difficult road ahead of her, he was still relieved. He wanted to tell Alfred so, but all he could manage was a nod.

"I'm going up to bed now. I've got a ton to catch up with in the morning," Alfred said, then hesitated. "If you…y'know, if you need anything at all, just ask me. I mean it."

Arthur's old warm, fluttery sensation made a reappearance, and he realized then just how badly he had missed it. "Thank you," he said. "Go on and get some rest."

"Anytime. Night, Arthur."

Despite the fact Alfred had given him a clear invitation to ask for help, another two weeks had passed, and Arthur still hadn't even been able to speak to him about how far he had gotten, much less ask him to stand in for a potentially dangerous experiment. Neither of them had said anything about the heated words they'd exchanged just before Alfred had gone to France, and it seemed that neither was going to anytime soon, so Arthur had made the decision to just ignore the problem and hope that he could sort out another solution that wouldn't require bothering Alfred. Only Heaven knew just how much the poor man had to worry about now with his floundering business, medical bills for Madeleine's care, and the fact that he was still determined to become a doctor in spite of it all.

Arthur did his best to stay out of the way, though he found that he rather missed the conversations and playful bickering. He could ignore it most of the time, focusing instead on his incantations and experimental spells, but as he knelt, hunched over the flagstones and tediously scrawling alchemic symbols over his circles, he couldn't help but let his mind wander back to how things had been before… how things might have turned out if he hadn't been so negligent. His plan from the beginning was to simply sort himself out and go back to his life, and maybe send along a monetary gift to his host after the fact, but somewhere along the line, his intentions had changed, and they had done so without him ever making a conscious decision on the matter.

After months of having only left the house for a visit to the garden every once in a while, the idea of departing permanently was quite distressing to him. Even if he were able to go home and pick up where he had left off, he wasn't sure that it would have been satisfactory anymore, not after being in a happy, comfortable home with someone that might have actually cared about hi—nevermind.

Of course, now that Arthur had nowhere to go at all, his situation had changed significantly. He had no idea what he would do, but he liked to think of himself as a fairly intelligent person, and he'd had a substantial private bank account under his mother's name since he had been old enough to understand that, with his family situation, he might have to look after himself with no help one day. Maybe he could move away from London, someplace where people wouldn't know anything of him, and if all else failed, he could always be an accountant like his mother had wanted. And maybe…. maybe he could even be Alfred's—

No. No, he'd fix his mistake, he'd scrape all the excess he could off his account and make an anonymous donation towards a Miss Madeleine Williams' hospital bills, and then he would start over elsewhere. He'd leave the two siblings to pull themselves back together, and, once she was recovered, sweet little Maddie could have all the dolls and tea parties she wanted, because it was clear that her wonderful big brother would always indulge her.

And Arthur would be happy for them. Just… elsewhere.

Arthur's breakthrough came one afternoon without much fanfare or excitement.

Lily sat in the middle of the chalk circle before him, eyes empty as usual, ribbon in her hair and frilly skirt fanned around her legs. This wouldn't have been so impressive on its own, but the fact was that five minutes before, she had been an enormous, stuffed white bear in the same dress, courtesy of the plush polar bear that now sat on the shelf across the room, and of course Arthur's spell-casting. He had changed her once, then swapped the bear for another porcelain doll and changed her back with absolutely no problems for any one of the toys. Just to make certain that there would be no further issues arise, Arthur had repeated this process over and over, and now, after fifty successful attempts, he felt he was ready.

Of course, he still needed Alfred.

Arthur found him just inside the front door, anxiously tearing open an envelope and scanning over the letter inside. He was so absorbed in it that he wasn't even aware that Arthur was there watching, but after a moment, he let out a sigh of relief and finally looked up.

A smile spread across his face as soon as he saw Arthur, and he quickly said, "Maddie's getting to come home. They think she's well enough to make the trip now."

"That's wonderful, Alfred. When will she be back?"

"Well," Alfred started, his smile giving way to a slightly frustrated look, "she'll be back in two weeks, but the doctors think that she needs to stay out of the city, get some fresh air. I don't really know what I'm going to do about that… and she's pretty weak, so she's not really walking again yet either…" He trailed off, scratching the back of his head and looking out the window. "And I got a letter from the school. They rescheduled my interview, thank God. It's going to be tough now though. They said they understood, considering the circumstances, but…"

If Arthur hadn't been confident in his decision before, he was now. He didn't think he'd be able to buy them a home in the countryside, but he could definitely leave enough to help with medical expenses, and maybe enough for a live-in nurse for Madeleine so that Alfred could focus on providing and finishing his education. There would definitely be some trying times ahead for them, but having Arthur around would only complicate things, he was sure.

Suddenly, Alfred looked back up at him. "Oh, I'm sorry!" he said. "You came up here for a reason… Did you need something?"

Arthur nodded. "Actually, I was going to tell you that I think I've finally worked it out."

He had hardly finished his sentence before Alfred had crossed the space between them and latched onto his shoulders. "Really?" he nearly shouted. "Why didn't you say so? That's great! Do you need me to help? What do I need to do?"

The enthusiastic response was hardly what Arthur had been expecting, but he stammered out a reply: "Well, I—I just need you to stand there, really. That is, if you don't mind. You don't have to… I don't want to be a bother."

"You just need me to stand there?"

"Yes, basically," Arthur said. "You won't actually have to do anything, but I'll be performing a spell that involves you, as an example of a proper human, you see. But there is a slight possibility that something could happen to you, so if you aren't comfortable with it, then by all means, I won't ask it of you."

Alfred just shook his head, though, and said, "No, I'm doing this for you," with a determined look on his face. For a moment, Arthur managed a grateful smile back, but then their proximity suddenly caught up with him, and he looked away quickly.

"M-midnight," he stuttered. "Midnight would be best. And I've been working for hours… I'd like to get some rest before we try this."

"Sure," Alfred said, giving his shoulders a squeeze. "You just tell me where to stand."

With a good thirty minutes left until the appointed time, Arthur decided he'd had enough of lying on the guestroom bed, unable to sleep, so he sluggishly fixed his waistcoat and tie, pulled on his old cloak, and made his way down to the cellar.

Alfred wasn't there yet, but Arthur still had a few last minute adjustments to make, so he picked up a worn piece of chalk and got to work. He desperately wanted to be able to concentrate on the circle below him, but all he could really think about was what he was going to do once morning came. He had already packed up what little he had there at the house before he attempted to get some sleep, but now that it was coming down to it, he had never been so inclined to just stay as he was. Getting comfortable in his state was something he'd always tried to avoid… but becoming comfortable here at home, with Alfred, had happened without him ever giving it a second thought. He wasn't sure he was prepared to give that up.

"You ready for this?"

Arthur looked up to find Alfred at the door, excited grin on his face, and he muttered a hardly to the floor before saying aloud, "Almost. If you'll wait a moment, I'm nearly finished with this, and we'll get started at about five-'til."

A glance at the clock showed 11:50, so Arthur tried to hurry. He'd been wasting time, thinking about things he couldn't fix again… and he suddenly came to the grim realization that there was a very good chance that he would spend the rest of his life doing quite a bit of that. He finished up the last of his lines with an overly forceful scratch of the chalk, then stood and grabbed his tattered spell book to go over the entire incantation once more.

Alfred was strangely quiet as he waited, content to simply lean against the wall and watch him work, but Arthur tried to ignore it. He was going to have enough trouble getting through this without worrying what Alfred was up to, and—he looked up at the clock again—he needed to get to it right away if he wanted to make it by midnight. He didn't think the timing was strictly necessary, but the spell was more likely to go well if performed at the stroke of twelve. He had taken too long, and he now had less than four minutes.

Finally satisfied with all of the variables, he gestured for Alfred to join him in the circle, and, setting his book down, he took hold of his arms and positioned him just over an intersection of several chalk lines.

"Just there—good."

"And I just have to be still?"

Arthur looked up at his face, and seeing that Alfred was starting to look a little worried, he gave him a reassuring smile. "Yes," he said. "It doesn't have to be perfectly still, but it would be best if you didn't move your feet from that spot."

Alfred nodded, but the distress that was evident on his face only became worse, and it did nothing for Arthur's own nervousness.

"You don't have to do this, Alfred," he said quietly (though he had no idea what he would do without him), but Alfred pulled away from his grasp and took hold of his hands instead. The indistinct pressure was comforting, so Arthur squeezed back, hoping to return the favor.

"No, I trust you," Alfred said. "It's just… what happens after this?"

"Well, I'll start the incantation, there will be some light, and—if all goes well—I'll return to normal, and you'll be unaffected."

Alfred frowned at him. "I meant after the spell."

Three minutes to go. They really needed to hurry, and Arthur was not prepared for this conversation yet… but then Alfred had that awful look on his face…

Arthur looked down between them at the toes of their shoes. He knew that he wouldn't likely be able to follow through with his plan if he had to look the man in front of him in the eye while he told him, even if it were for his own good.

"I… Well, I just thought I'd be on my way," he said, and Alfred's grip on his hands tightened considerably. He ignored it and pressed on. "Between taking care of poor Madeleine, your father's business, and your medical education… I imagine I'd only be a nuisance. I'll make sure that you're compensated for my rent, so to speak, and then I'll just go."

"W-what?" Alfred stammered, and Arthur risked a glance up at his face. He wished he hadn't. "But… I mean… Where will you go?"

"I'll sort something out," he said.

Two minutes left.

"But—but… You don't have to!"

"Don't be silly, Alfred. I can't just stay here."

"And why not?"

Arthur let out a frustrated noise. One minute, thirty seconds. "Because, Alfred," he said, voice pleading. This was hard enough already… Why couldn't Alfred just accept it? "You don't need me here!"

He saw the almost angry look on Alfred's face, and he heard it when Alfred practically growled, "The hell I don't," but when Alfred suddenly grabbed ahold of him, pulled him flush against his chest, and buried his face in his neck, it took several long moments for Arthur to understand just what had happened. Once he did, he could only stand there like… like the doll he was.

"You don't have to go," Alfred breathed against his porcelain ear, and Arthur could only faintly feel the warmth and the flutter of his hair. "I don't want you to. Please, Arthur. Don't go."

He couldn't bring himself to move… only to look over at the clock again. 21 seconds, 20, 19… They were running out of time if Arthur wanted to make this happen—

And he suddenly realized that he did. He wanted it like he had never wanted anything in his life. Not his title, not his family's respect—nothing. He'd never dared to consider the possibility that Alfred was giving him right now, but now that he had…

Alfred let out a muffled oof as Arthur wrapped his arms around him with a little more force than he had intended, but then Alfred was squeezing back harder, pressing his cheek against Arthur's and threading fingers into his hair at the back of his head—but Arthur wanted to feel it. Not just the barely-there pressure against porcelain, or the echo of Alfred's heart beating against his hollow chest… He wanted to feel his own pounding back, and for Alfred to feel it as well.

Ten seconds to go.

"I'm not going anywhere, Alfred. Now… stand still," he said, determination steeling his voice, and began the incantation.

One year later

The first warm, sunny morning of 1865 found Alfred dusting off wicker furniture in his still relatively new and much larger garden, digging through cupboards for tablecloths and seat cushions, poking his head into the kitchen every few minutes to make sure breakfast wasn't burning, and finally, carrying a life-sized porcelain doll out to his little outdoor dining setup and propping it up on one of the chairs.

"Good morning, Freddie," came a quiet voice from the back door, and Alfred turned to find Madeleine watching him with an amused smile. "What's all this?"

"Breakfast!" he said, gesturing at the table. "I thought it'd be nice since it's so warm, and you're finally up on your feet—but don't think I didn't notice that you didn't wait on me to help you down the stairs, missy."

Madeleine just gave him a coy little grin and held out her hand for help across the garden. "Please forgive me, Dr. Jones," she said as she took Alfred's elbow, and he couldn't resist the urge to smile back as he walked her to the table.

"Well… maybe just this once," he said conspiratorially.

While he knelt beside her chair and tucked a blanket in around her legs, she reached over and straightened the doll's dress, smoothing a wrinkle and adjusting the skirt. "I do like this new dress," she mused. "I think it looks lovely on Lily. Don't you?"

Alfred nodded, patting her knee as he stood, and said, "Sure do," but before he could get too far, Madeleine stopped him with another question.

"Alfred," she began, not looking away from her doll, "I was wondering… Do you ever miss Artie?"

It took a few long moments for Alfred to respond, but when he did, it was with another question: "What do you mean, sweetie?"

"Well, it's just that when I went back to school after Christmas before last, I was sad that I couldn't take Lily with me, and I'd only just gotten her. But you had Artie for much longer, and you were by yourself at home for a long time, so I thought that maybe you would miss him even more."

Alfred knelt down to her eye level again and reached out to brush a stray curl back behind her ear. "You know, I sort of do sometimes," he said, thoughtful, "but you know what? I'm also happy for Artie, since he's happier where he is… at least, I certainly hope he is. And… well, if the Fairy Queen hadn't put that curse on him, and he hadn't left to find his One True Love—" he paused at the sound of someone pointedly clearing his voice from the back door "—then we wouldn't have Arthur with us now!"

He finished with a grand gesture towards the house, and Madeleine turned to smile at the man in question, standing on the steps with an enormous tray of slightly (only very slightly, thank you) burnt breakfast, and one very thick eyebrow raised.

"Charming," Arthur grumbled.

When he was through unloading his tray at the table (and after the sharp kick to Alfred's shin), he was about to turn and go back for what was left in the kitchen, but he stopped when he felt a pair of thin little arms wrap around his waist.

"I'm glad we have you, Arthur," Madeleine said, looking up at him, and he couldn't help but lean down and leave a kiss on top of her head.

"And I couldn't imagine being anywhere else, darling," he breathed into her hair.

Alfred watched the exchange with a smile that threatened to split his face in two, and when Madeleine let go of Arthur, he quickly stood up and said, "Hey—let me help you with the rest."

The two of them walked casually back inside, but as soon as the door closed behind them, Alfred tossed the tray to the counter, pushed him against the wall, and pressed their lips together, soft and sweet and loving, but pulling away far sooner than Arthur felt was necessary—of course, he wasn't sure that he'd ever get enough.

(After a year of being back to flesh and blood, all of those once-foreign physical sensations and reactions were nowhere near as overwhelming as they had been at first, but it seemed that Alfred would always be able to leave him reeling… He still vividly remembered the first time he had really, actually touched him, not two seconds after the spell was complete, lifting him off the ground, kissing him like his life depended on it, and leaving him a shaking, sobbing—but overjoyed—mess from the overstimulation.)

"You," Alfred mumbled against his mouth, capturing his lips again, "just… you—" another, firmer kiss "—damnit…"

"Eloquent as—mmfph—usual, love…"

"Oh, shut up."

Arthur grinned as Alfred moved to his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, both eyelids, peppering his whole face and coming back to his lips, but when he started pulling at his high collar for easier access to his neck, Arthur spoke up. "I'd hate to suggest that I'm not thoroughly enjoying this, because I am," he said, "but aren't we supposed to be getting something?"

"Hm?"

"Breakfast? For your sister who is outside waiting, and who is also steadily becoming a rather intelligent little girl…"

Alfred gave him an annoyed, half-hearted scowl (incidentally, the one he used when he knew that Arthur was right about something) but kissed him once more anyway, muttered something about just you wait and tonight, and dragged him into the kitchen to finish plating the giant stack of waffles next to the stove.

Things were far from perfect in the Kirkland-Jones-Williams household: money was still tight after the move from the city to the small village where they now resided, Madeleine's health was improving but still unreliable, and arguments between Alfred and Arthur were fairly frequent. The strain of keeping the actual nature of their relationship to themselves while trying to find quality time to spend together was a real problem, especially with Madeleine there in the house and the nosy women of the village interested in why the handsome young doctor or that quiet but rather striking accountant hadn't found themselves wives yet.

But despite all this, Arthur found that he was happy, and that things were gradually getting better. Eventually they would settle in. Bills would be paid, new patients would be seen, and Arthur would find more clients in need of financial advisement. Madeleine would heal, and she had already expressed a desire to go back to Lille for school once she was better (much to Alfred's distress). They hadn't yet encountered an issue they couldn't work through, even if it took a great deal of time (as some of them had), and someday, the neighbors would get used to Dr. Jones and Mr. Kirkland, the pair of perpetual bachelors that just happened to enjoy each other's company enough to live together. The lovely young ladies in town looking to be the wife of a doctor would give up and move on, or else they would find themselves on the receiving end of a curse—not that Arthur had considered it. … Much.

For now, though, it was manageable at its very worst, and as for its best…

Alfred stopped at the back door for one last, quick kiss and a whispered Love ya, sweetheart before heading back outside, and Arthur stood there for a moment, watching him present a plate of butter and syrup covered waffles to Madeleine with a flourish while she smiled and pulled him down for a hug.

Arthur couldn't really imagine things being better, not with the two of them turning back to wave him out to the table, matching grins on their faces. But he supposed that if he couldn't have imagined this life for himself a year ago, or how being in such a state would make him happier than he had ever believed he could be, then perhaps he would just have to wait to see for himself what was possible.