A/N: This is just me working on characterizations at 2AM, but I think it turned out alright.

Basically, I thought it would be nice to have my incarnation of Morgan Le Fay meet England, her home country.

Morgan Le Fay sat by the window at the corner of Walk and Don't Walk with a hot cup of coffee on the table in front of her and a novel in her hand. The novel was normally nothing too personal for her, just The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien. The woman set it down and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she did so.

"God, I miss England," she said quietly.

Somehow or other, Morgan's brain led her to the day she'd learned a neat little trick for cooling coffee off. For some reason, it only ever worked in London. London. What a wretched capitol for a wretched country where wretched things had taken place. It was Morgan's wretched country, though, and she missed it in spite of herself. She'd moved to America as soon as she'd had the chance, boarding one of the first English ships to leave for the new colonies, but Morgan's heart would always belong to England. It was where she'd been born, where she'd competed against her sister for attention, where she'd had her first kiss, where she'd had her first love and her first heartbreak, where she'd become her own person, where she'd endured pain most people could hardly imagine and where all that pain had paid off. Seven centuries of memories had left their mark.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" someone asked.

Morgan opened her eyes and looked over to see who it was. A man stood there, holding a teacup and saucer with what looked like tea biscuits on it. Even from where she sat, Morgan could tell the man wasn't very tall, maybe a little taller than her. His hair was a sandy blond mess that made Morgan want to hand him a comb, much in contrast to the fact that he was wearing clothes that made her feel underdressed. His eyes were a brilliant shade of green, and Morgan could have stared at them all day if not for the fact that his eyebrows were a mite... distracting, to say the least.

"No, of course not," Morgan said, motioning to the empty seat across from her.

The man smiled and set his food down. "Thank you. Tea is always nicer with company."

Morgan did a doubletake. That voice... "Have we met before?"

"Oh, I don't think so," the man said. "The name's Arthur Kirkland."

"Morgan Rhodes," Morgan said, extending a hand across the table. Arthur shook it just enough to be polite and motioned to the novel on the table.

"The Hobbit, eh?" he said.

Morgan smiled faintly. "Yeah. I've read it so many times I practically have it memorized."

"It's a good one," Arthur said. "Tolkien was a genius, putting all those myths to use like that."

"I suppose so," Morgan said.

Arthur took a sip of his tea and Morgan noticed with slight amusement that he drank with his pinky out.

"I can't help but notice your accent," Morgan said. "Where are you from?"

Arthur set down his teacup. "I'm from England," he said with a totally straight face.

"I can tell," Morgan said with a smirk. "I meant what part of England."

Arthur thought for a moment. "London, I suppose. It's hard to name an exact city."

"Did you move a lot when you were younger?" Morgan asked.

Arthur nodded a bit distractedly. "Where are you from?"

"Winchester," Morgan said. "I moved some time ago, though. I haven't been home in ages."

"I can tell," Arthur said. "Are you missing England yet?"

"God yes," Morgan replied with a sigh. She took a sip of her coffee and made a face before putting it down. It was so bitter...

"Even the food?" he asked.

Morgan chuckled. "Are you kidding? I need some good English cooking right now. Unfortunately, my roomate's Scandinavian and he has a bit of a grudge against the English."

Arthur raised his rather impressive eyebrows.

"I'm the exception," Morgan said. "He's weird that way."

Arthur ate one of his tea biscuits in a few bites and offered one to Morgan. She hesitated.

"Don't worry, it's not poisoned," Arthur said.

Morgan took the biscuit. "I'm just a bit jumpy," she said. "I've had bad experiences with free food."

Arthur chuckled. "Haven't we all?"

Morgan took a small bite of the tea biscuit and smiled. "It's nice to taste something that isn't smothered in frosting," she said. "I wish I had some tea to dunk it in, though. Earl Grey maybe."

"It's always better with tea, isn't it?" Arthur said. "I'd give you some of mine, but I don't think you'd appreciate my backwash on your food."

Morgan laughed. "You're right."

Arthur smiled and took another sip of his tea. Once he'd put the cup down, he checked his watch.

"Oh bollocks," he said. He looked embarrassedly at Morgan. "Pardon my language."

"You're fine," Morgan said offhandedly.

"I have to meet my brother at the fair in a few minutes," Arthur explained. "You can have the rest of my biscuits if you'd like. From one Brit to another." He pushed the saucer across the table and got up, gulping down the rest of his tea as he went and leaving the empty cup on the table.

"Hey, thanks," Morgan said, but Arthur was already gone. She shrugged and finished off the biscuits and her coffee in hardly any time at all thanks to a little extra creamer.

But, just as Morgan was getting up to leave, she noticed that Arthur had wedged his napkin just under the edge of the tea saucer. Curious, she lifted the saucer up to take a look. Written on the napkin was a one of the shortest letters she'd ever read:

Don't give up on England; he loves you back.
Sincerely,
Arthur Kirkland