Adventures Together (England/Port)

[Liechtenstein]

It had been a good three weeks since Arthur had found Afonso collapsed in the desert. And a good two and a half weeks since he’d left the Grim to return to La Madre Maria. Where he had received one of Antonio’s rare lectures, and been put on bed rest for three days; despite feeling perfectly fine. And during that time he learned of the treasure hunt his absence had derailed.

A ship had sunk somewhere by Hawaii. A ship which captain held a piece of the legendary map. Antonio had known the captain, and thus had planned to set out to retrieve the piece. Of course, with the navigator missing, they had been unable to go anywhere. Afonso had felt guilty about derailing their plans. The guilt adding to the guilt he already felt for worrying Arthur so much…

But soon a thought had settled itself in the Portuguese mans head. He knew, roughly, where the ship wreck was. After all, he was La Madre Maria’s navigator, and despite what Antonio and the others said he was a damn good one. He just had the misfortune of getting lost. And while technically this thought would lead to him betraying (in a sense) his crew well…

Well, he would maybe finally make it up to Arthur. He would be able to thank the pirate captain for saving his life.

So carefully he had snuck to the radio, contacting Arthur (as the two had exchanged frequency, for emergency purposes). Though first he had to endure an Australian boys teasing before Arthur had taken the radio from him. And still Afonso had heard the boy, James, shout something. Afonso hadn’t heard what, but he did hear Arthur threaten to tie the kid to the mast. Soon they had come up with a meeting place and time. All Afonso had to do was come up with a reason to leave the ship for a few days…

Of course, that turned out to be rather easy. The navigator had been known for wandering off to explore and update the maps he had. So he simply told Antonio (and swore on his mother’s life that he was not in any way shape or form sick) and off he was.

Standing now on the outskirts of the trenches, he waited for Arthur, hoping that the captain wouldn’t get lost. As well as hoping if maybe this would make it up to him…

A couple of hours by himself in one of the small boats he kept on his ship, and he was still bright red in the face and cursing James up and down for his parting comments as Arthur left the ship to go to... wherever it was that Afonso wanted to meet him at. Swearing once again that he'd force the austrailian youth to scrub floors and toilets for months when he got back, he turned green eyes back to looking for their meet-up location. Fumbling the portuguese man's compass, he wished that he was better at navigation than he was...

What had to be much longer past his anticipated arrival time as he'd had to just follow the coast until he found where Afonso had landed, he quickly hopped out of his boat and tied it down before trudging through pale sands to the other's side.

"... sorry I'm late." he said sheepishly, looking away in embarrassment. "Just... just got a bit lost." Coughing into his hand, he asked with a slightly higher pitched voice. "So... what exactly are we doing?"

Afonoso wouldn't lie that he was a bit nervous when Arthur was late. It just didn't seem like the pirate captain to be late for things. Then again, it could just be nerves getting to him. He must have checked his pocket watch ten times within a minute while waiting. But he refused to admit that he was nervous of all things. It wasn't like this was a date. And even if it was it wasn't their first date... If you would count going to eat the day they first kissed a date.

Shielding his eyes from the sun he scanned the beach, finally spotting the familiar mop of hair. And a sigh of relief escaped him. Afonso waited until Arthur reached him, resisting the overwhelming urge to just sweep him up and kiss him.

And he did manage, that is until Arthur told him that he had gotten lost. And then he just looked too adorable. Afonoso grinned, leaning forward and planting a quick kiss against the others lips. not being able to resist. Really, did Arthur realize how adorable he looked when embarrassed? "We're going on a treasure hunt silly."

He wasn't able to stop the flush that crept across his face at the kiss, nor the rather goofy grin that bloomed in it's wake. God, every time he met Afonso, it was like... - he would never admit this out loud to anyone ever - it was like falling in love over and over again. It was bright and refreshing and he wished that he never had to leave. But... he'd respect Afonso's choice of staying with Carriedo, even if the thought of the spanish man doused his happy mood like being tossed in the Atlantic.

"Treasure hunt?" his ears practically perked up at that. "Sounds wonderful!" And... could this be considered a date? he coughed lightly, trying to will his blush away. Taking a small bit of initiative, he reached forward and lightly grabbed hold of one of the portuguese man's hands. "Lead on, my dear." And in the other hand, he held up Afonso's compass.

He had to laugh seeing how Arthur perked up at the mere mention of a treasure hunt. That is before he felt his cheeks heat up, glancing down at their hands. And then, with a shy smile, he laced his fingers together with Arthur's. Giving the linked hands a playful swing. Afonso couldn't help but feel a giddy warmth spread throughout his body. Honestly, every moment spent was Arthur was just... Just an adventure in itself to him...

The sight of the familiar compass made Afonso's eyes light up. Oh how he had missed his old compass. None of the new ones worked as well. With a grin to Arthur he nodded, fishing the map out of his bag. "Not even going to ask what we're searching for?"

There was that silly grin on his face again as Afonso didn't push him away. Taking that as a good sign, Arthur stepped closer, nearly right up against the other man's side, enjoying the moment. "I trust you to not be leading me on a wild goose chase." he blurted out without realizing. Flushing brightly, he looked away. He must have sounded like some kind of dope.


"Good!" He couldn't help but grin at the other squeezing Arthur's hand affectionately. He couldn't believe that the other was actually here. Part of him felt like it was some wonder, amazing, dream... But it wasn't. And that made his grin turn into an incredibly dopey one. "I think you'll like it too."

But... He couldn't help but feel uneasy. Was this betraying his crew..?


"So, which way? I believe I should leave that to you as I..." he cleared his throat rather embarrassedly, trying to not mention that he got lost not ten minutes ago. "... as you are a very good navigator!" he finished, covering over his near admittance with the compliment.

In all honesty, he was a decent navigator - after all, they hadn't ever gotten really lost ever since he'd gotten the ship - but... but thoughts of Afonso were so distracting, so easy to get lost into that he'd veered off course and... was horribly late because of it.


He stopped dead, looking at Arthur with wide at the comment. Good navigator? Arthur actually... He almost dropped the map, flinging his arms around the other and pulling him into a tight hug. "Re-Really!? You think I'm a good navigator!?"


Caught completely off guard by the sudden hug, Arthur lost his balance on the soft sand, taking the other down with him with a surprised yelp. Quite suddenly, he found warm sand at his back and a warm person on top of him. And a very warm face, because of the rather... compromising position. "Ah... yes. I do."


Afonso was so estatic he didn't even notice the compromising position at first. Instead choosing to hug Arthur tightly, laughing like a goof. Slowly though, he became all too aware of the position. Cheeks heating up slightly, he pushed himself up, bracing his hands on either side of Arthur's face, all but straddling the others waist. For a moment he just stared down at Arthur, before nervously clearing his throat. "Desculpa..."


Face bright red and shocked speechless, Arthur could only stare up at Afonso and wonder if it'd be okay if he just sat up and kissed the man because if this wasn't the gods giving them an 'okay' to enjoy themselves, he didn't know what would. After a long pause, he licked his lips and cleared his throat, searching for something to say. "It's... it's alright." He wanted to smack himself, because that wasn't the smartest thing to say.


He wanted nothing more then to just kiss Arthur right there and then. But Afonso resisted that urge, instead pushing himself up and off Arthur. Rubbing the back of his neck, and willing his cheeks to cool, he offered his other hand to the Brit. "Um, really, sorry about that... Toni's always making fun of my navigating so..."

So he had honestly been beginning to doubt he was a good navigator at all.


Rather disappointed, he took the hand that was held out to him and used it to pull himself off. Dusting sand from his jacket and pants he took the moment to hide his face, hoping that it would become less red if he had just a few moments.

Finally, he looked back up, faint smile on his lips. "This... this is another reason why I think that your Captain is an idiot. You're an amazing navigator." and he meant it... even if he didn't actually have any proof of the fact, he was just completely certain that he was.


That made his cheeks flush more, Afonso pointed looking away in embarrasment. And he couldn't help himself from shaking his head at the words. No, he really hadn't been that good lately. After all, that whole problem with those Aztecs probably would have never happened...

He couldn't help but rub his head at the reminder...

"Toni's just... An air head. But he's not an idiot. 's right. I get lost a lot..." Granted, he got lost often because he was day dreaming and thinking about Arthur, but that was besides the point.


Coming to the sudden realization that while they were talking, neither one had let go of each others hand. With a faint snort, he lifted Afonso's hand up to give it a quick peck. "I find myself doubting that. Shall we carry on?" he blustered his way onwards, feeling like he was trying to swim in this whole 'love' thing. And he knew how piss poor he was at that.


He chuckled a bit, grateful for the somewhat subject change. Nodding he followed after Arthur, lacing their fingers together with ease. The other hand holding the map up again as he paused to gauge their surrondings.

"We'll have to be careful once we get into the trenches. I've heard a few nasty stories from the villagers surrounding this place..."

"I've heard a little bit about them. One of my former captains crewmen took a ship down here and only barely made it out." Except he wasn't too worried about it. The man had foolishly taken a full galleon down the trenches. The two of them were either going by boat or by foot, which wouldn't be as likely to be damaged in the narrow passage. "What did they say about them?"


Afonso simply shrugged. "Oh, they went on about how people wander into the trenches only to never come out again. That demons and ghosts haunt the area. Mostly superstitions."

He chuckled a bit, remember some of the wildest ideas very well. "I didn't believe any of them."


"Demons and ghosts, huh?" he mumbled, thinking of the few spells he knew to take care of those specific supernatural occurrences. That was certainly one thing they wouldn't have to worry about. "Are we taking a boat or going by foot?" he asked, absently giving Afonso's hand a squeeze as he stared at the entrance to the trench.


"I thought going by foot would be easier. Some of the waterways become incredibly narrow." At least according to the maps he had managed to find. He smiled at Arthur as they reached the entrance. "You ready?"


Incredibly glad that he'd worn his good pair of rubber-soled walking shoes - even better, he wasn't wearing that one pair he had in his cabin that had a bit of a heel to it - Arthur nodded, giving back an assuring smile. "Indeed I - wait." he paused, taking into account exactly where they were going. "... to be on the safe side, let me go grab that first aid kit out of my boat." Because he was not chancing something happening to them and having no way of taking care of it.


"Ah... That would probably be a very good idea..." He had neglected to pack his own. Which was silly in his opinion. Especially since it was Arthur he was going on this adventure with. And knowing the mans track record of getting hurt... Yes, a first aid kit was a very good idea. "Let's get that first aid kit."


Hustling back to the boat, Arthur grabbed the relatively small kit. He'd filled it with the basics, from bandages to painkillers and took a moment to send out a wordless prayer that he wouldn't have to open the dratted thing at all. Shoving it into a small bag that he hooked over his shoulder, Arthur picked up Afonso's hand again. "Let's try that again." he said, amusement tinging his voice. "Now I'm ready. Let's go."


"Sure you didn't forget anything else?" He asked, even as they were walking back to the entrance. Pausing at the entrance again, Afonso couldn't help but hesistate slightly. But only for a moment. Squeezing Arthur's hand, he shot the Brit a warm smile, crossing over the thresh hold and into the trenches. "Let's get going."


"Positive. It's not like I'll need to be bristling with guns for this adventure. Most everyone, as you say, avoids this area." He scoffed. "I'm hardly afraid of rocks attacking me." Stepping forward, he took his first good look at the trench - even from where they were standing, they were at least a good ten feet in the air above the bottom where the water was. Right beside them was a waterfall, and, thankfully, the sides of the trench were worn away in such a way that they could walk relatively easily along the sides without falling. So long as they didn't slip, he thought in retrospect.


"Knowing your luck though, a rock would attack you." He teased, not able to help himself. Taking in the terrain he nodded to himself, carefully beginning to walk along the sides. Holding onto Arthur's hand tightly. The last thing he wanted was for one of them to fall. "Watch your step, alright?"


Stepping up behind Afonso, Arthur snorted rather inelegantly. "It would not!" he huffed, lips twitching into a smile as he couldn't help himself. But he did take that advice into account, keeping a careful eye on his every step. The chances of not hitting a protruding rock on the way down wasn't very appealing... and if he survived that, falling into the water was almost a death sentence for him. It had been a couple months since his last lesson with James as he'd been running around, away from the Grim more often than he spent time on board. If he could keep himself afloat, he'd be amazed.


Glancing back at Arthur, Afonso couldn't help but chuckle a bit. But said nothing more on the subject. Instead he focused on the path in front of him. Keeping an eye out for any obstructions or things that would trip them up. Soon though, the need to break the silence became too much. "Where does your crew think you are? Because he doubted Arthur had told them the truth.


"My crew?" Arthur rolled his eyes, remembering. "James - err, that loudmouthed australian that wolf-whistled us when we met up in europe - he heard us speaking over the radio. So, in other words, the majority of my crew knows exactly where I am and are probably making horrible, dirty assumptions as to what I'm spending my time doing." Except, maybe for Alfred. Despite being his aide, the boy tended to not notice things like this very often, he found. "And yours?"


"They think I'm exploring the area." He laughed a bit, just imagining what Arthur's crew was probably saying. "Which might be best for us. That my crew remain in the dark a bit. Especially because, well y'know Antonio..."


"I do know." he said, warily watching his step as there was a growth of very slippery looking moss beneath his feet. "Sometimes I wonder exactly why we hate each oth... er..." he paused, stumbling on a missed step. Of course he knew why he hated the man - right? They.... they'd fought, right? He could have sworn they'd been enemies.... he just couldn't quite remember when or where.


Afonso came to a halt, glancing back a bit confused. Something in the stumble didn't sit right. Tilting his head to one side he looked back at Arthur, a frown tugging at his expression. "Is everything alright..?" And then, he couldn't help but wonder... "What did happen... To make you two hate each other so much?"


"I...." he paused, a rather odd and unpleasantly fuzzy feeling coming over him. "I... could have sworn we.... fought each other..." he felt every inch as uncertain as his voice. In fact... when had he met the captain? He could picture the man in his head, he could remember seeing him from a distance... but when he'd met Afonso for the first time, when he'd been captured by Carriedo's ship... the captain wasn't one of the people who'd roughed him up. Had.... he had to have met the man, fought with him. But... why couldn't he remember doing so? "I... can't remember..." he frowned, losing track of where he was for a long enough moment that his foot slipped off the edge of the rock wall.


Afonso began to grow more and more worried as Arthur continued to speak. Something was not right. Could it be that... Had Arthur and Antonio never actually met? But that would make so sense, why would they hate-

His arm jolted as Arthur slipped, sending the Portuguese man off balance. And he only barely managed to stay on the ledge, suddenly incredibly grateful that they had still been holding hands. "Ar-Arthur! You okay?!"


He came back to himself with a jolt, hand gripping Afonso's convulsively, toes digging into the stone as well as he could. He stopped falling, one arm pinwheeling in the air for a long moment. Using Afonso to pull himself up, he grabbed onto the other mans arm when he managed to get back onto level ground. "Holy..." he gasped, shivering lightly. "I'm... I'm alright. Sorry about that." his heart beat began to slow back to normal pace. "What were we talking about again?" he couldn't quite remember, having been distracted by the sudden slip.


Afonso couldn't even remember what they had been talking about. Instead, he pulled Arthur into a tight hug the moment he was sure the Brit was not going to fall again. He said nothing for a long while, doing his best to ease his own heart beat. That had been too close. Far too close for his liking. "Don't... Don't do that again." He finally managed to choke up, just barely loosening his grip.

He stopped trying to remember what they'd been talking about - he could literally feel the distress radiating off Afonso and that took up his attention. "Shh, shh. It's okay. I'm okay love." Arthur held him close, running a hand soothingly up and down his back, the other tangled in his long hair. "I promise. I'll be careful." he mumbled into Afonso's ear, pressing a dry kiss to his temple. He kept murmuring soothing things until Afonso pulled away.


He nodded slowly, loosening his grip until he had let Arthur go. And afterwards he couldn't help but smile sheepishly. "Sorry..." But he couldn't help himself from panicking. The moment Arthur had slipped... The image of a bloody and lifeless Arthur had flashed through his mind. And for a moment, he had been afraid that image was a premonition then just a passing panicked thought.


At times like this, Arthur was glad no one could see them, as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Afonso's lips. "Don't be sorry. It's alright." he said before his mind caught up with the rest of him. Did... did he really just kiss him? Out of the blue and everything? Christ... he could feel his face turning redder as he backed - very carefully making sure he wasn't backing off the wall again - a step away, clearing his throat self consciously. "I mean... there's nothing to be sorry for. Nothing bad happened."


His cheeks warmed slightly at the out of the blue kiss. But that soon faded into an almost dopey smile. Nodding, though not necesarrially hearing what Arthur had just said, he took the others hand. Stepping forward again. He had only gotten one step though, before he had to stop, leaning forward and kissing Arthur's cheek. "You're so cute when you blush."


Blushing stronger at that comment and the kiss to his cheek, Arthur ducked his head in embarrassment, stepping around Afonso and taking a few steps ahead in his haste to try and cool his flaming face. Then he stopped, paused for a minute, then came back and grabbed Afonso's hand, not wanting to leave him behind or look like he wanted to leave him behind. "M-moving on!" he nearly squeaked, he tugged them forward, paying especially good attention to the ground again.


Laughing at Arthur's reaction, he nodded allowing Arthur to lead for a while. After all, they could only go straight at the moment. Relaxing he let his eyes drift away from the ground that he really sound be watching. Instead looking around the trenches. There was an an sense of beauty to them. A dangerous sort of beauty, but beauty none the less.


The shelf they were on ended abruptly before them, leaving a wide gap between where they were and the next shelf. Stopping and pondering how to get across, Arthur knelt down and leaned out a bit, checking to see if there was a way down. The two shelves came down in a bit of a 'v', with the other one having broken into two definite parts. "Look, we can climb down here and keep going on that lower shelf for a good bit." he pointed it out to Afonso.


Afonso had nearly walked right into Arthur, snapping out of his musings at the very last minute. Looking over the others shoulder he nodded a bit, before sorting through his bag. "I packed some rope, it might make climbing down a bit easier." And a bit safer.


"That'd be great." he quickly looked around and found that there was a hole in the rock wall - perhaps strong enough to hold up a persons weight. Tying it securely through the hole, he tugged once, then harder, then with all his weight. It held. "Alright. Here I go."


He reached out, grabbing Arthur's upper arm with a frown. It really didn't like the idea of Arthur going first, what if the rope didn't hold? The image flashed through his mind again, Afonso shaking it away. "Let me go first."


He shook his head, frowning. "... don't take this the wrong way, Afonso, but I think I'm heavier than you. If it can hold my weight, you should be fine coming down afterwards." He chuckled rather ruefully. "Rather, if I came down after you and it broke, I wouldn't want to crush you by landing on you."


He rolled his eyes at the comment. Not being able to help but chuckle. "I doubt your much heavier then I am Arthur." Honestly, Arthur was shorter then him, and thin. Where did he get that idea?


Going down the rock with almost squirrel like speed, Arthur found his feet quickly planted at the bottom, safely and in one piece. "There we go, Afonso! See? It was fine!" he laughed. "Come down - if you fall, I'll catch you!"


"I think I'd crush you!" He called down, but couldn't help but laugh along with Arthur. Really, he was worrying for nothing, he decided as he began to climb down the rock. Though not as fast as Arthur had gone.


Standing back so the other could climb down and not step on him when he reached head-level, Arthur took the moments where Afonso wasn't looking in his direction to... go red in the face as he appreciated the other man's backside. Watching all his muscles flex with quiet strength, the urge to just reach out and touch him was high. But, with a faint sigh and curbed desires, he kept his hands to himself. This was hardly the ideal place for.... anything romantic.


Letting himself drop the last few inches, he sighed relieved to be on solid ground again. Turning to look at Arthur he was about to say something, but stopped. Blinking at why Arthur was suddenly red. "You alright..?"


He shook his head, pursing his lips together and flushing brighter. "N-no reason!" he coughed, trying to will the redness away, but just glancing at Afonso made his face burn all over again. "Nothing at all!"


He chuckled a bit, leaning forward until his face was only and inch or so away from Arthur's. "Really? Because you look like a tomato. Did you catch my cold?" He couldn't help himself from teasing Arthur. He really couldn't.


Shaking his head again, Arthur turned and made the small jump across to the next steppe. "No, I'm fine... just... a little too much sun! I burn so easily!" he laughed half-heartedly. Turning back around to offer a hand to Afonso so he could jump across, Arthur tried his hardest to think of things that would be unattractive enough to make his blush go away.


"Maybe we should get you a parasol or something then?" He chuckled, hesitating slightly before taking the offered hand. Honestly, he could have jumped without the help but... Well it was nice to hold Arthur's hand. "I have some sun block if you'd like?"


"No, no. I'm fine. Really." he started leading, not letting go of the other's hand. Already he could see that this shelf wasn't going to go far - the one above them sloped down and soon enough, he was bending over so his head wouldn't scrape against the top. Soon enough, it came to a choice: climb back up to the shelf above, or go down further, closer to the water.


He frowned looking between their two options. While the walking along the shelf was probably safer, getting up there could be difficult. Plus, they had no way of telling how long it would be until they needed to get back down. And while the water wasn't exactly the safest, there was a thin bank. And it would just be a straight walk... "What do you think we should do?"


Biting his lip, looking both up and down, he frowned. Going up would involve climbing, and the water levels in the path had smoothed the surface of the rock down incredibly well. So, in all honesty... "... we should go down - it looks like the track goes much farther. How far do we have to go?" he looked at Afonso, who was still carrying the map.


Fishing the map out of his bag again he checked it. Frowning a little as he mentally tried to calculate just how much further they had to go until the wreck. "About a mile, but with this terrain we should go slow..."


Nodding, once again he leaned farther over the side, this time with more trepidation than before. Falling here would mean not only hitting rocks, but water. But he refused to back down in front of Afonso, so with his hands and feet and a sense of dread, Arthur dangled over the side as far as he could before letting go and hitting the slippery rock below.


He waited, holding his breath, as Arthur lowered himself down. The entire time Afonso couldn't help but remain tense, ready to spring into action should Arthur slip. But when he landed safely, he relaxed. A sigh of relief escaping him. Then he moved to dangle himself over the side. Taking a deep breath before letting go.

And then, the world tilted to one side. A sharp pain shooting out from his ankle as it twisted unnaturally. Afonso flailing his arms out to keep his balance. He was far too close to the edge for his liking.


He watched as Afonso let go of the ledge with bated breath. All seemed well for just a moment - then the other man began to fall, a look of pain on his face. "Afonso!" he yelped, as he fell straight for Arthur. Bracing himself didn't help - the ground was slick with water and slime and Afonso weighed enough that even his sturdy boots couldn't keep him upright. There was one thing he could do: push Afonso away from him before he hit... the... water...

He barely had a moment to panic as he went under the surface of the water before his head hit a rock and everything went black.


He had fallen over when Arthur pushed him back, landing a bit harshly. But within a second he was up again, ignoring the sharp pain from his ankle and reaching out to try and grab Arthur. But he was too late, watching in terror as he went under the water. And why was he coming up? Didn't he know how to swim? A frightened chill went through him. What if he didn't know how to swim... What if...

Without any further thinking, or any rational thought, Afonso was diving into the water, desperately fighting against the current to find Arthur.


The shock of the cold water didn't keep him unconscious for long - but it was a dizzy and terrifying thing to wake up to. The water tumbled him around in all directions, he couldn't tell which way was up and he was quickly running out of air. Scrabbling around, he bashed his knuckles and knees on stones and other objects - some of which felt rather wooden - which told him which way was down, but gave him no grip or chance to even push off before he was swept further and further away. Dimly, as his vision began to tinge red, he wondered if Afonso was okay - if he'd managed to stay on the ledge safely...


He surfaced, only when his lungs began to burn too much. Gasping he did his best to remain focused, peering through soaking wet bangs to see if he could spot Arthur. But he couldn't, meaning he had to keep searching. His stomach knotted uneasily, panic running through his veins as he went under the water again, catching sight of different wrecks. What if he couldn't find him? Or what if he found him, and it would be too late..?


It was cold and dank. That and his legs were submerged in frigid water to the point of numbness told him he'd been out for a while this time. Getting to his knees proved impossible at first as the moment he moved his head felt as if it'd split open and the dizziness took over so much that all he could do was lay there helplessly and vomit. The stink of that and the smell of the damp sent him into dry heaves until he regained enough sense to drag himself away, inch by slow inch.

He would have kept going if his fingers had not touched something pointy and smoother than stone. Opening a bleary eye, he almost spat out the spell for light. And instantly wished he hadn't as he saw the mostly rotted corpse of what was once, he assumed, a sailor who lost his life in the trench. It freaked him out enough that he lost the concentration needed to keep his spell going and, with no little relief, it was dark again. Arthur shuffled back a bit so he wouldn't touch the body again.

Where was he?


He couldn't find him. No matter how many times he looked, Afonso couldn't spot Arthur. And if he hadn't surface yet. The Portuguese man felt a frightened chill run down his spine as he finally pulled himself out of the river and onto the thin bank. He could barely even notice how numb the water had made him, blank eyes continuing to gaze ahead at the river, as if praying a familiar mop of blonde hair would appear. Arthur had to be okay, he had too... Maybe he was just down the river? That had to be it. He refused to believe he had lost the other. He just did! So with this thought in mind, Afonso pushed himself onto unsteady feet. Ignoring how his ankle throbbed as he walked along the bank, keeping his eyes peeled for anything that screamed Arthur.


The intense cold of the water wracked his body with shivers as he finally managed to pull himself out of the water enough to tuck his legs in against his body. Not that it helped - all the warmth felt sucked out of him. About to mutter a warming charm, Arthur was distracted by an oddly glowing light above his head.

Looking up, he saw what seemed to be the transparent shade of his disturbing companion on the small ledge. Teeth chattering, he watched with trepidation as it came down from high above, slowly, ever so slowly - like it was swimming against the current just to reach him. Finally, a finger reached out to touch him...

And if he'd thought the cold before was bad, the slightest touch from the ghost felt like he'd been incased in ice. At first, his teeth were chattering so badly that he couldn't even mutter a spell to protect himself... but then, as the ghosts finger began to sink inside of him - and the strange double-feeling of possession started to crawl into his mind, he cast the first spell that came to mind.

It was, quite easily, the strongest light spell he'd ever cast. The lights could be seen outside of the cave he was in, heck probably from the top of the trench as well. It seared through the ghost, who dissipated with an otherworldly wail - leaving Arthur to shiver by himself, colder than he was before and wondering if he would soon be haunting this place as well.


The sudden light made Afonso jump a good foot, and land on his injured one. Nearly falling over he just stared at the spot in which it had come from. Arthur. He wasn't sure how he knew that Arthru was by that light but...

Before he realized it fully he was swimming through the water again. Diving beneath the current and falling the fading light. It was blinding really. But he ignored it, continuing foward. And then he spotted it, a cave from the look of it, that's where the light was coming from.

His lungs were burning, but he pushed forward, ignoring the sharp throbs from his ankle as the current shoved at it. He could make it, Arthur was there. Arthur was alright, right?

He surface in the cave, coughing and gasping for air. Afonso wasted no time though to rest, squinting through the darkness, though even darker spots were dancing in front of his eyes. Maybe staring at the light hadn't been too smart... "Arthur!?"

[Arthur Kirkland]

Shaking and shivering, Arthur was trying his hardest not to fall asleep. Logically he knew he shouldn't but his head hurt and dark spots danced across his vision and he was just so achingly tired... so tired that he imagined Afonso's voice calling for him.

With a sudden jerk into alertness, he realized that it was Afonso calling for him - that the other man was near where the cave entrance was... wherever that was. "O-over here!" he tried to call at first, but his voice came out really hoarse and quiet. Swallowing a few times to clear his throat, he yelled louder. "I'm over here Afonso!"

At first Afonso feared that maybe he had mistaken. Or maybe he had been too late. His stomach churned with unease as he tredded water, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. For a moment he thought he had heard Arthur, but it had been so soft. He wondered if he had just been hearing things.

Then he heard him. Louder this time. And Afonso was swimming towards him as fast as he could. Pulling himself out of the water as swiftly as he could and crawling over to him. Pulling the Brit into a embrace the moment his hand had brushed the other's shirt. "Graças Deus..."

The moment that Afonso pulled him into a hug, he clung to the other like a burr, so incredibly grateful to see him - to know that he was okay and suddenly assured that he was going to get out of this okay. And even though they were cold, wet and he was injured, he felt warmer and less like he was dying already. "Thank god you're okay..." he mumbled into Afonso's shirt. "I was worried that you were hurt."

"You were the one who almost drowned." He wouldn't mention the fact that he was most likely hurt. Especially from the way his ankle was throbbing. It could wait though, wait until they had gotten out of here. Until he'd gotten Arthur someplace safer, where he could check his injuries, make a fire, anything. "C'mon, we have to get out of here."

He let off one sharp bark of a laugh, not moving much as his head still hurt. "I don't know if I can. I hit my head rather hard earlier... and" he grit his teeth, damning himself for being so incredibly stupid. "... and I don't really know how to swim." he forced himself to admit to it, weakness that it was.

"I kind of grasped that part when you didn't resurface." And Afonso had to make a mental note to teach Arthur how to swim later on. A frown tugged at his lips, touching the back of Arthur's head gingerly, trying to assess the damage. If it was bad... Maybe he could make a fire in here? At least long enough to take care of his injuries...

"Sorry for not mentioning it sooner." he mumbled, closing his eyes and just trying to stop shivering. God it was damp down here - and starting to smell even more rank now that he'd been sick. He opened his mouth to say something else when a blinding pain hit him and he blacked out for a moment. At first he didn't realize that he had, but one moment he was just leaning on the other, the next he was practically pasted against his side. With a groan, he shifted slowly, well aware that the pain in his head came from where he'd hit it. "What the hell...?"

He jerked his hand away the moment Arthur went limp. And his heart became lodged in his throat. He couldn't breath, the image of Arthur dead flashing through his mind. But then the other shifted, he groaned. And Afonso could breath again. Resisting the undeniable urge to hug the life out of Arthur.

That settled it. Reluctantly he let go of Arthur, intent on finding something that could start a fire.

Later on, he'd swear he didn't make a rather girly noise when Afonso pulled away - and would deny it if Afonso ever teased him about it - but at the moment he desperately didn't want the other to move. "Where are you going?" he asked, trying not to whine and probably failing. His head hurt and he felt colder without the other near.

"Shh, I'm not going far. Just going to see if I can't find something to make a fire so we can warm you up." He couldn't help but chuckle at the noise, and yes he would most certainly be teasing Arthur about that later. Smiling fondly he leaned forward, placing a kiss against the others forehead. "Won't be long. Promise."

Shifting around just enough so he could tuck his legs up against his chest and wrap his arms around them, Arthur forwent nodding, knowing it was a terrible idea. "Ah... right. Watch out for the skeleton. It's haunted." he mumbled, shivering with the cold again and forcing his eyes to stay open. If he passed out so easily from having someone touch his injured head, going to sleep was a definite no... if only he could stay awake...

"Haunted..?" He frowned glancing towards where Arthur was. Ghosts weren't real though. Right? Shaking his head, he nodded a bit feeling along the ground, trying his best not to hiss when he put too much pressure on his ankle. A skeleton? Maybe there would be a wrecked boat? If not... Would Arthur be up for going under water? Afonso could swim for them both.

"Mhm... I chased the ghost away with the light." he said before he could stop himself and distantly wondering if getting hit on the head was making him crazy as he'd promised himself that he wouldn't tell Afonso about the whole 'magic' thing. Something about admitting to having magic to someone whom he wasn't sure would believe him just scared him outright. But... his mouth wouldn't stop running away from him.

"The light?" He blinked glancing back towards Arthur wondering if maybe he'd hit his head harder then Afonso had originally though. Then again, there had been a light... But there was no way Arthur could have made it. Still. Keeping him talking was good. "You made that light?"

"Yea, and the light scared off the ghost." he would have kept going but his whole body was wracked with a sudden shudder. Why was it so cold down here? Teeth chattering, he was hit by a sudden wave of not wanting to be alone. "A-afonso... don't leave me here, please. It's so cold..."

He stopped the moment he heard Arthur stutter. Turning around immediatly and walking back to him. He had to sigh, knowing he couldn't search properly without leaving Arthur behind. And he did not want to do that, especially now. Still though, they had to find a better place. Chewing his lip he thought for a moment, knowing this probably wouldn't be good for his ankle but, hey, at least he could find a safer hopefully warmer spot and not leave Arthur. "Here, climb on my back."

Instantly scooting forward the moment that Afonso spoke, Arthur moved far enough away from the wall to be able to stand without injuring his head yet again. Slowly and cautiously, he got to his feet, wincing all the way as his head pounded but he managed to make it without passing out or throwing up like he felt he would do. Wrapping his arms around Afonso's neck and standing right behind him, it almost amazed him how much warmer he felt already. "... thank you." he muttered, knowing that he was being a burden. But he really, really didn't want to be left on his own.

"It's no problem." He smiled back at Arthur, waiting a moment be for adjusting the Brit so he was properly on Afonso's back. His arms looped beneath Arthur's knees. Taking a brief moment to situate them both, he took a sharp breath before starting forward. And try as he might he couldn't help but wince, biting his lip to keep any pained noises down. Instead he continued to walk along the small stream, trying to spot anything they could use.

The closer they got to sunlight, the more determinedly Arthur buried his face into Afonso's shoulder - the light hurt his head almost as much as hitting it did with it sending daggers in through his eyes. Fairly certain he either had a concussion or something very near to it, he concentrated on breathing and the sounds Afonso made while they walked - anything to not have to look up and hurt.

Relief rushed through him as he caught sight of the entrance of the cave. Shifting Arthur on his back, but being careful not to jar him too much, he continued forward. "Almost there, just a bit further Arthur."

He whispered back, knowing the other was in pain. Warmth spread through him the moment he had exited the cave, the sun beating down on them as a welcome almost.

The warmth of the sun hit Arthur's back, and moments later he began to feel warmth creeping through his damp clothes and into his skin. Keeping his face pressed into Afonso's neck and his eyes blessedly closed, he kept his breathing as slow as he could, trying to keep the pulsing pain in his head out of mind.

"Afonso..." he mumbled, head jarring with the portuguese man's steps. "... are you hurt?" he couldn't believe he'd forgotten to ask - he'd slipped after falling off the side of the rock, there was a good chance that he'd been harmed, even before Arthur had fallen into the water.

"I'm alright." Arthur didn't have to worry about him. At least not at the moment. And he tried his hardest to not let the limp become too noticeable, especially as it would be jarring Arthur. Keeping his eyes forward, he squinted against the sunlight. It looked like a boat was up ahead... Or at least part of one. Which meant wood. Which was good. "Hey, don't fall asleep, alright amor?"

Between the time he'd asked his question and Afonso had answered, the Brit had almost managed to doze off - the jarring steps were practically the only thing keeping him awake and since they stopped so quickly, there was very little keeping him awake. Logic was taking a backseat in his fuzzy mind, and the pain was overriding any common sense that came with it. "Mmm..." he hummed muzzily, nuzzling closer despite the ache in his head. Afonso was warm and soft... he thought to himself as he started to drift off again.

"Arthur." His voice was stern. Like he was lecturing a child. "Arthur, talk to me, alright? You can't sleep right now."

Because the chance of a concussion was too great. And Afonso knew how dangerous they can be. As well as how hard it was to stay awake with one. "I know your tired, but please?"

"Hmm?" one eye cracked open before he shut it with a hiss. He'd forgotten how much the light hurt his eyes when he'd finally started to warm up. "'bout what?" he mumbled beside Afonso's ear. Of all the times that the navigator wanted to talk, he thought distantly as his mind tried to keep up. He wanted to talk to Afonso despite being so incredibly tired. He wanted to talk...

"How're things on your ship? You tie that Australian kid to the mast? Or the American overboard?" He was grasping for anything. He just wanted to keep Arthur awake. And the only way to do that until he was sure the Brit would be alright, or he could set him down, was to talk.

He nearly tripped in his haste to the abandoned looking ship. Nearly faling over with a sharp hiss. His ankle throbbing in protest. "An-Anything."

Ship... ship. Right. "Haven't tied James up yet... threw him... overboard once'n 'Merica. A'fred's just... like a child..." he mumbled, slurring almost as if he was drunk. "Lou' 'n obnoxious..." he couldn't help the pained chuckle that crept up his throat as he thought about his boisterous crew.

"You'd like Lily... swee' girl... 'nd my brothers pro'bly..." his eyes felt like there were weights on the lids, keeping them shut even as he wanted to try and look at Afonso. "Careful 'bout them... so rough..."

"Brothers?" He hadn't heard about that before. And Arthur did not sound alright. Afonso's heart began to race. Just a bit further. He could see a small area, big enough for them to rest in. Just a little bit further. Afonso just had to keep Arthur talking a bit longer. "You never told me much about your brothers, what are they like?"

The only reason he actually knew was because Arthur had argued with them one time while they were on the radio.

The faintest of nods woke him up as he groaned with the pain that rattled his skull. "They're... drunkerds an' they pick 'n me and try'n mbarras me..." he winced, even with his eyes closed and almost unconscious, just the thought of his siblings made him flinch - as if expecting one of them to appear and cuff him upside the head.

"But... m'so glad th're okay..." his voice cracked. "So worried... wh'n they v'nished. Thou' they'd died..."

"I'm glad you found them." He smiled a bit. It was such a relief, he was sure. Finally he reached the area, carefully setting Arthur down with a few soothing words. "I'm going to need to look at your head, alright?"

He really didn't like how Arthur sounded. Afonso just prayed the injury wouldn't be too bad.

Disoriented by the motions of being put down, Arthur instantly turned over on his side and dry-heaved, feeling dizzy and nauseous despite having nothing else to bring up. Shivering with a sudden cold feeling, he curled up on his side miserably. "'fonso..." he mumbled. "I feel like shite." his teeth chattered and, barely managing to force one eye open a crack, searching for the fuzzy figure that was the other man.

The moment Arthur started dry-heaving Afonso was knelt besides him. Rubbing his back and stroking bangs from those closed eyes. Trying to provide him some comfort. His stomach knotted in worry, wishing he could do more. Leaning down he pressed a gentle kiss against the other's temple. "Shh, I know. I know."

Carefully he pulled Arthur up into a sitting position, trying to get a look at the back of the others head.

Burying his face back into that warm, pleasant smelling shirt, Arthur groaned as the world tilted obnoxiously for a long moment before slowly settling enough that he no longer felt the urge to vomit. Exhausted, shaking and covered in sweat and sea water, the urge to just... close his eyes and let it all go was like a siren song. It wouldn't hurt, and he could dream something much more pleasant - and maybe Afonso would be there...

"Stay awake Arthur." He murmured as a reminder. His heart was racing in panic, his fingers ghosting carefully over the wound. It needed to be cleaned, cleaned and bandage. But his mind flashed back to when he had touched it earlier. He hoped Arthur could hold on at least. "Hey, Arthur? Amor, I have to take care of your wound, alright?"

Though now he had to wonder. Did they still have the first aid kit?

He wanted to stay away, he really tried but... everything was fading out. "S'tired..." he slurred out, eye slipping closed again and in moments his breathing had evened out as his exhausted body gave in to what it thought it needed.

After a long moments pause, however, he gasped, eyes shooting open in a moment of confusion. Where was he now? England winced, his head hurt abominably as well as the rest of him was cold and achy. It was like being in the trenches all over again. The only difference this time was that he was laying on a warm chest that didn't have a military uniform covering it. The faint spicy smell told him all he needed to know.

"Port? Where am I?" he asked, mildly confused but not necessarily upset with the situation.

When Arthur had gone limp, had finally fallen asleep, Afonso had felt his blood run cold. He shouted the others name, over and over again. Gently but firmly shaking him. A fear that Arthur wouldn't wake up chilling him to his bones.

But then Arthur gasped, and Afonso could feel himself relax slightly when he saw the green eyes open. Hugging the other tightly he took a steadying breath. But the calmness only lasted for a moment. The question caught him off guard. Afonso blinking slightly as he looked down at him. "We're in the Hawaiin trenches... Remember?"

Oh God, maybe he had hit his head harder then Afonso feared.

He paused for a long moment, trying to search through the other him's memories. "Trenches. Right." Honestly, he thought wanting to roll his eyes but managing to stop before he aggravated his headache. "Sorry, love. Just a bit disoriented." Ah, there it was. In Arthur's memories, there was a first aide kit - thankfully the thing had managed to stay strapped to his back if the box digging into his spine was any indication.

"Help me out a bit?" he asked, shifting his weight enough so he wasn't laying on the damned thing, he reached around and pulled the box into his lap. "I'm particularily terrible at tying these on myself."

Afonso hesistated a moment or two. Instead just staring at Arthur. A few seconds earlier he had been slurring every word. Almost as if he were drunk but now...

He shook his head. No, this had to be good. Arthur seemed alright. So... So Afonso would just push that worried feeling that knawed at his stomach away. This had to be alright.

"Let me do it then." He responded at last, taking the box from Arthur with a frown.

Sitting perfectly still as Afonso bandaged his aching head, England came to the conclusion that his body was suffering from a concussion. For a brief, very brief, moment he was glad that he wasn't in full possession of it yet - with a careful thought he could override the worst of the pain to the point where he could function again.

When his head was bandaged thoroughly, he rifled through the small first aide kit, looking for a specific bottle of pain killers. Finding it, he dry-swallowed three before holding them out to the other. The memories told him that Arthur had noticed something off about Afonso - and he had to carefully remind himself it was Afonso and not Portugal sitting in front of him, as painful as it felt in his chest - and from the way the other was sitting, England could tell that his ankle was hurt.

"Here, take some of these to take the edge off. And," he sat up, shuffling back away from Afonso enough for the other to be able to put his foot in England's lap, "foot up here. I need to see if it's broken." Patting his lap, he looked into those achingly familiar eyes and saw a stranger.

"I-I'm fine." He waved his hand not wanting to worry Arthur at all. It was Arthur right? But there was something far to strange about all of this. Something in his eyes wasn't right. They were different, and yet familiar. Something in his chest ached at that realization, he had to look away quickly.

As careful as he could he stood, making sure to put as little pressure on his ankle. "You stay here. I'll go get some wood for a fire."

Because they were both still dripping wet. And that would only lead to more problems if they remained that way. Smiling one more time at Arthur, he walked away towards teh wrecked ship. Doing his best not to limp.

His head was starting to ache again...

Frowning as Afonso walked away, England couldn't help himself comparing the man in front of him to the man he loved. It seemed... inadequate. Port would have taken the attention and the medication, would have stayed down and let himself be fussed over for long enough to get a splint on his ankle so they could carry on together.

Being left behind stabbed him through the heart yet again. God... he was so tired of being left behind. It was for certain one of the reasons he hadn't taken back control of the body yet. One factor was, of course, the body wasn't ready yet for him to come back... but another was his own reluctance. Port would yell at him for, as he called it, 'going all Splendid Isolation', but England couldn't help it. He was so tired of being hurt, being left behind - and this was just another repetition. Curling up unhappily, he trailed a finger through the sand beneath him.

Glancing back he chewed his bottom lip with sudden unease. Had he done something to upset Arthur? If so he hadn't meant too. He was just... Just so worried. It hadn't been a full day yet and he'd already nearly lost Arthur twice. All he wanted to do now was take care of him, like Arthur always insisted on doing when Afonso had been hurt or sick.

But just looking back... His head gave a painful throb. As if something was trying to resurface. Rubbing his forehead he tried to focus on the task at hand. Collecting pieces of broken wood, before carrying it back to where Arthur was. Unease settling through him. "Arthur..?"

At first England didn't look up - as a nation, even if he'd taken the human name hardly anyone, especially another nation would ever call him by that name. But, with a faint jerk that brought him out of his grousing moment, he looked back up at Afonso. "Hmm? Something the matter?" he asked, looking back down. Afonso had brought wood - and he was pretty sure there was a box of matches in the first aide kit.

"Did... Did I do something?" He coudln't help but ask. Had insisting he was fine upset Arthur? Or something else he had done? Keeping his gaze averted he sat down. This time not being able to hide the wince, a hand moving to hold the injured ankle. But he shook it off, reminding himself of his task. He had to make a fire before either of them got sick.

"No, no. Nothing at all, Afonso." he replied, focusing all his attentions onto the kit so he wouldn't have to look at the not-quite Portugal. He managed to find the matches, that was a plus. As the wood fell to the ground with a clatter, he turned enough to start to stack the wood in a way that even with matches it would catch the dry wood on fire.

In a few moments, he had a small fire going much to his own pride. He didn't get nearly enough practice at this sort of thing anymore - the last wars were always so damn damp that even if you managed to get something lit, it would just mean target practice for the Germans - when, out of the corner of his eye he noticed Afonso's wince and the way he held his ankle.

"Oh for goodness sakes." he nearly swore, scowling furiously. "Give it here." he reached out, pulling Afonso's foot into his lap. "If you leave it as is and there's something wrong with it, you could lose your foot to gangrene."

He couldn't stop the cry of pain from escaping his lips when Arthur pulled his foot into his lap. A sharp breath followed, the Portuguese man squeezing his eyes shut, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "I... I didn't want you to worry..."

He'd planned to take care of it once he kne the Brit would be alright. The others safety was his first concern. Even if the Brit was now acting incredibly odd. "It's just sprained... I think."

Instantly feeling sorry for causing him undue pain, England ran his fingers over the injured area as lightly as he could while still checking to see if the bone was broken. Thankfully, it wasn't. Afonso was right, it was just a sprain. But still, he reached into the kit for the small set of splints that were in there. Setting them up so Afonso's ankle wouldn't be jostled, he carefully wrapped bandages around them, touches as featherlight as he possibly could.

"Don't be stupid." he replied gruffly, even as he tried his best to not hurt the other. "I'd find out eventually that something is wrong and then it'd worry me more that you couldn't trust me enough to let me know that something's wrong." And, he reflected, this was one of the few ways that Afonso reminded him of Port - both were so afraid of worrying him.

Keeping his gaze on the growing fire, Afonso began fiddling uneasily with his ponytail. He winced as his foot was bandaged. And even if Arthur was trying to be careful, it still hurt. "I just... You're already hurt. There was no need to worry you even more."

He admitted, dragging his fingers through the knotted ponytail. "How... How is your head by the way?"

"Hmm? It's... bearable." He rubbed his forehead absently, adjusting the bandages just the slightest bit. Tying off the bandage, he set Afonso's foot back on the ground before adding more wood to the fire and relishing in the warmth. "And... I think..." he bit his lip. He shouldn't be getting involved... shouldn't be helping Arthur. He wanted to stay in the background, found himself not wanting to come back to the front. Let Arthur be a human, not a nation.

"You think?" Finally he turned to look back at Arthur. And he couldn't help but frown, reaching out to touch the others cheek. He couldn't fight down the worry any longer. Something wasn't right. "Arthur? What's wrong?"

He was forced to look up - it couldn't be helped. That tone of voice... the words spoken... as much as he wanted to go back into hiding, he wanted Portugal more desperately. And, with the sun setting in the background and the man across from him watching him worriedly.... it was inevitable that he leaned across and kissed him.

Surprised by the kiss, Afonso remained still for a moment or two. But soon his mind caught up with him, both hands rising to rest on either side of Arthur's face as he returned the kiss. But still, something didn't sit right, leading him to pull away. His forehead resting against Arthurs. "You... Are acting odd."

Pulling away, England tried to keep Portugal in his mind for a moment longer before re-opening his eyes to reality. His other half was still sleeping - would be for a while. "I know I am." he gave the other a faltering smile. "... must be the head injury." he excused it, not wanting to explain the whole 'nation' thing.

The response only made his frown grow deeper. Stroking the others cheek with his thumb, and he had to sigh. Leaning forward to place a soft kiss on the others forehead. And ignore the ache in his own head and how it just seemed to be growing. "Maybe you should rest then."

It would probably be for the best, England decided, if he took Afonso up on his offer of rest. His body would heal much faster if he wasn't rushing around trying to overwork it. "... alright. That sounds like a plan." Leaning back against the rocks behind him rather uncomfortably, he closed his eyes and wished that he could fall asleep right away. "Get some sleep yourself, okay?"

"I will." He smiled, though doubted he would sleep at all. In fact, he knew he wouldn't. There was no way he could sleep right now. His stomach too knotted in concern. For a moment he watched Arthur shift, frowning a little. That couldn't be very comfortable, in fact he doubted it was at all. Shifting so he was besides the Brit, he patted his lap. "Here, you can use my lap for a pillow. It's probably better then those rocks."

Cracking an eye open at the offer, England tried to resist - it wouldn't be fair to Afonso or Arthur if he went and did things like take advantage of the fact that Portugal was inside of this man... but guilty conscience or no, he couldn't resist for too long. Flushing faintly, he gingerly shifted so he could lay with his head on that warm lap and, looking up at Afonso, he could fool himself that it was just him and Port, hiding away from their crazy brothers and just relaxing together. It was so much more comfortable - in fact, he found himself unintentionally dozing off.

He smiled down at him, brushing still damp bangs out of the others beautiful eyes. But they were different, so different now. Why were they different suddenly? It had to do with the head injury. It had too. That's what Afonso kept telling himself. Stroking Arthur's hair gently, humming a soft lullaby. He had to hope that when he woke up that Arthur's eyes would be the same ones he'd known...

Well... this was odd. Was the first thing that England could really think of when he opened his eyes, only to be in a dimly lit room on a couch. Didn't he just close his eyes for a moment, out on a beach with Afonso?


A faint sigh beside him and his eyebrows lifted in alarm as, sleeping beside him on the couch was... what looked to be his twin, but could only be Arthur. In all his lifetimes, he'd never experienced something like this - was this some sort of... multiple personality mind palace?

He was about to close his eyes again and pray that by doing so he'd wake back up when Arthur's eyes fluttered open. He had no chance to hide from those eyes - it was like they went straight for him. Freezing, they both stared at each other, neither one wanting to admit any of this was real.

"Are you some kind of... figment of my imagination?" Arthur asked first, breaking the silence. Completely out of his depth, all England could do was shake his head. "No? Then what are you? MPD?"

"No... no. Nothing of the sort." both stared at each other, identical green eyes locked on, one uncertain and questioning, the other nervous and avoiding.

"Then what? And where am I? Wasn't I just with Afonso?" Arthur broke their gaze, eyes darting nervously around the room. It was lit by, of all things, an old fashioned fireplace. The couch, he noted distantly, was of the old clawed variety that you found in old english pawn shops nowadays for cheap.

"I could ask the same thing... and get the same answer. I don't know what's happening." and for someone as old as he was... he should really know this. It was... terrifying to have something happen that he didn't understand.

"... at least tell me your name." The panic in Arthur's tone told him that they were both in the same boat. But... was it the time? Was Arthur ready to know who he was?


".... no. You'll find out soon enough, I'd expect." he spoke slowly, curling up against the arm of the couch. Arthur didn't seem to like that answer - and England couldn't help but chuckle. Was this what France saw when he called him a rabbit? He did look rather fluffy and non-threatening, even with that glare on his face.

"Look. I don't know what's going on here. But... I think that if we just close our eyes, this whole... odd nightmare will disappear as if it never happened." Or... he hoped it would. God knows he'd be wondering what the whole thing meant for however long he stayed hidden from Arthur.

"Whatever." Arthur scowled and laid back down on the couch and seemed to fall back asleep right away. Did that mean that he was back in control of the body? England both hoped and wished it wasn't true. Closing his eyes, the world narrowed down to the sound of the fire and the calm breathing of his couch-mate.

Afonso meanwhile, had been true to his original thoughts. He couldn't sleep, he didn't even try. Instead he past the time with simply watching Arthur sleep. Humming for a long while, before singing the lullaby beneath his breath when he saw the others eyebrows furrow, as if something had bothered him in his sleep. Afonso ran his fingers through the sleeping captain's hair, before gently brushing the tips of his fingers against Arthur's cheeks. And he couldn't help but smile at how beautiful the other looked in sleep.

It was only when the fire began to die that he decided he needed to move. Shifting he shrugged out of his jacket to make a makeshift pillow for the Arthur's head. The Portuguese man was careful not to wake him, setting the Brit's head on the bunched fabric and kissing his forehead before standing.

His ankle throbbed as he walked back to the ship wreck. Collecting more wood to keep the fire going. But he nearly dropped the armful of wood. Releasing a hiss as his head gave a painful throb, Afonso leaning against the destroyed hull, waiting for the pain to ease. The head aches were getting worse...

He went from asleep to awake in an instant, finding himself once again on the beach instead of in that strange room. England shifted, the ache in his head quite a bit less than what it had been. The next thing he noticed was that he wasn't laying on Afonso's lap anymore, but the residual warmth in the jacket he had pillowed under his head told him the man hadn't been gone long.

Cautiously sitting up and looking around, he spotted the Portuguese navigator off beside the wreckage of the ship clutching his head. "Afonso?" he called, concerned. He may not be HIS Portugal yet - but if something happened to him... he wouldn't have Portugal for an entire lifetime again. "What's the matter?"

Afonso nearly jumped hearing the others voice. Immediatly releasing his head and turning to face him. He smiled softly, again not wanting to concern the other too much. Then again, it wasn't like his head aches were a secret. "Just my head, as usual."

He laughed sheepishly, limping back over and setting the collected wood down. "Did I wake you..?"

haking his head, England tosses a couple of pieces of wood on the fire, taking the moment to collect his thoughts. Headaches... he remembered those. Afonso had been having them for a while. Did... did it have something to do with...?

Turning quickly, he grabbed Afonso's wrist, looking him straight in the eye - and was it... straight down into that hidden place that was Portugal? He could only hope. "Hey... I'm alright. Just resting. Relax and wait a bit longer, okay?" He knew it would sound odd... but seeing the pained crease between Afonso's eyes felt like a jab in his side.

But... he couldn't admit to Portugal that he wasn't planning on staying awake. That he was going to hide away for as long as he could...

"I... What?" He couldn't help but blink, confused by Arthur's words. And his face couldn't help but flush slightly at how close they were. He was about to question it further, ask whether Arthur really was alright. But just when he had opened his mouth, his head gave another painful throb. And Afonso couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath, using his free hand to grip his forehead. It felt like someone had taken a sledge hammer to his head.

And deep down in the place where Portugal was sleeping. The Nation stirred, trying to reach out towards England.

Gently grabbing the hand that was on Afonso's forehead, England tugged him closer until he could pull him into a hug. "Shhh... calm down. Go back to sleep love. You're hurting him." He mumbled, rubbing soothing circles along Afonso's spine. Admittedly, he desperately wanted to see Portugal - if he came out, well... England would never want to leave.

But then... then he'd have to face the fact that he was hiding from the world. And he didn't want to admit that to Portugal of all people. "Relax... relax."

"Wh-What are you talking about?" He managed to choke out, head resting against Arthur's shoulder. His entired body tensed, a small cry escaping him. And suddenly, images flashed through his mind. Things that he knew he should remember, but he couldn't. And they flashed by too quickly for him to grasp them. Even if Afonso tried to hold onto the images, they slipped through his fingers.

And just like he had become so accostumed too, the images faded away. Afonso nearly slumping in Arthur's embrace, his breaths coming in short gasps. "I-I'm alright... Don't worry."

Holding him close, England ran a hand through Afonso's thick brown hair. "I can't help but worry." he spoke without thinking, but the worry he felt made him slip up. "I love you."

After a long moment where he rested his head on Afonso's shoulder, he froze. Oh lord... did... did he just say that? He knew that Arthur hadn't said anything - wasn't even completely certain of his feelings - and to blurt that out... damn. He was pretty sure he'd messed up.

Afonso too froze, his eyes snapping back open. Had Arthur just? The pain in his head suddenly forgotten (though it was still present, and he idly felt like it was getting worse). He could only just stare at Arthur for a very long moment, before a grin spread across his face. A silly one at that. And then he did the only other thing he could think of. Hug the Brit as tightly as he could.

Biting down hard on his lip, England cursed himself out in his head. It wasn't his place to say such things - he loved Portugal, and by default yes, he loved Afonso too. But it was Arthur's prerogative to say something. Arthur loved this man - as much as he tried to deny it - and when he had control of the body and no memory of even having said those words... it would hurt them both so badly.

All he could do was hug the other man back and close his eyes, wishing he could rewind time. Portugal would be so mad at him if he was in control right now... "How..." he choked on the words, clearing his throat awkwardly. "How is your leg doing? Can you walk?"

He almost laughed at the sudden change of subject. But nodded his head instead. "It's just a sprain, I can walk."

It wasn't as if he hadn't been walking on it enough already. "What about your head..?"

"It... hurts, but not so badly that I'm feeling sick anymore..." he told a half-truth. If Arthur had been in control, he'd be incredibly ill and woozy, the injury was a concussion after all. Not that Afonso needed to know that. The body would heal well enough after he got back onto the ship. But it didn't bother him as badly as some of the injuries he'd had before.

"I was just thinking... if we finish what we started... we could make it back to my ship just after dark and get you some real medical attention." Sitting by the fire was all well and good, but his control over the body would only last up to a certain point... and then they'd be stuck in the trench with one man injured badly enough that he couldn't move or open his eyes and another who couldn't walk. They'd starve to death, or die by exposure... neither were appetizing options.

"Are you sure..?" He couldn't help but frown. Arthur had gotten a concussion. Afonso was sure of that. He had half the mind, in all retrospect, to just call their adventure off and return to Arthur's ship. There was no way he could have recovered so quickly, honestly. Especially with how out of it he had been earlier. Something just didn't sit right...

"My ankle's fine. Your the one who needs the medical attention."

Leaning back, England shrugged. "I'm well enough, dear. I can make it." He wasn't sure what the 'treasure' was, but if Afonso had brought them both all the way out here, it had to be important. "Are we close?" he had no idea - Afonso had been the one with the map and Arthur had been awake then.

Afonso looked at him, worry still etched into his face. Maybe he should just insist they turn back. But then they would have come out here for no reason. With a small sigh, he sorted through his bag for the map to check just how close they were. Upon finding it though, he couldn't help but cringe. The exposure to water had caused all the inks to blend together. And the navigator could feel his shoulders slump.

Yup. He was a horrible navigator all right...

"We... We shouldn't be too far.." After all, they were right beside a wreck...

Heading towards the wreckage that was their sanctuary, he peered around the broken mess to look out at the fast-moving water. Very glad he knew how to swim, he checked back and forth. "Which way are we going?" he asked, having no real idea. It all looked like slick rocks and uninviting scenery.

"We're going..." He had no idea, and looking at the map was completely useless. Maybe he should just admit it to Arthur? If they went any further he was going to get them utterly and completely-

His ranting thoughts came to a halt as he peered past Arthur and at the river. Carefully he walked forward, balancing on one of the slippery rocks and using the wreckage as an anchor he peered down stream. If the ship had crashed, it would be downstream. And not completely as dillpadated as the hull they were by. "This way."

Nodding, he stepped forward, joining Afonso up on the slippery rocks. "Well then... after you." he bowed, extending his arm. He could keep a better eye on the navigator from behind - in case he slipped, or his injury became too much. If Afonso was anything like Portugal - and from what he'd seen, they were very much alike - he'd keep quiet about being in pain. Hopefully it wouldn't take so long that Afonso would have a problem... he wasn't too sure if he could carry the man back to the ship as he was not only lost, but feeling much weaker. It was taking alot of energy to fix the head injury.

"Are you sure your up to continuing on?" Because he doubted once they moved forward turning back would be an easy task. And he really didn't want Arthur to push himself anymore then necessary. That would only lead to problems.

Of course, the notion of Afonso pushing himself too much with an injury never even crossed the Portuguese mans mind.

"We could always come back another time?" Though there was a good chance the map piece would be gone by then.

He shook his head. "For the last time Afonso, I'm fine." Or at least, well enough that he could continue on. It struck him briefly and ironically that he was doing exactly the same thing that Portugal would do - keep quiet about the extent of the injuries. "I'm more worried about you - can you keep going on your foot? I don't want you to fall and break it."

aught a bit off-guard he glanced down at his splinted ankle. It did still hurt, but he could keep going regardless. "It's fine. It isn't that bad, don't worry."

After saying that, he couldn't help but laugh. It was ironic, the both of them insisting that they were alright, when really they weren't. Just so they wouldn't worry the other.

"Alright then. The faster we get this done, the faster we can have a nice warm bath." He reached out, carefully wrapping his hand in Afonso's and giving it a soft squeeze. "... best if we hold onto each other... I don't want to get seperated from you again." Was a perfectly good excuse for holding his hand. Por - no, Afonso. He was starting to get them confused already. He... he couldn't deny it. As much as he wanted to keep them seperate... wanted to stay distant because it wasn't HIS beloved... Afonso was Portugal. And as much as he wanted to stay back and hide... he couldn't. Not with this man still alive and warm.

Smiling at that perfectly good excuse, he nodded. Giving the others hand a small squeeze in reply. "And I don't want to get seperated from you again." He was sure the incident had shaved a few years off his life. He'd never been more terrified then the moment he had thought he lost Arthur. With one last worried glance at the Brit, he looked forward. Carefully walking around the wreck on the slippery rocks. He really just hoped his instincts were right... If not...

Quietly following behind him, England kept his eyes alternating between the slippery grounds and Afonso's back. It was a bit of a paradigm shift, admitting that to himself. Keeping Portugal Portugal had kept him from having to make his choice. He... he could admit to himself that he didn't want to return to the life of a Nation. It wasn't just escaping from the workload, or not having to deal with politicians or other Nations. England was sick and tired of hurting others and being hurt. If Afonso never regained his memories... if he wasn't, in essence, the person he'd been in love with for almost six hundred years, staying in the back of Arthur's mind for the rest of their long existance would be a relatively simple task. Heck, he was beginning to theorize that the reason he saw Arthur when he fell asleep was because of this - the last time England had died, he had accepted the entire Nation life without question and gone back to war without a second thought.

But... could he leave Afonso behind? Turn his back on the man so he wouldn't have to deal with pain anymore? Could he do that?

Afonso meanwhile could not help but occasionally glance back. Just to make sure Arthur was really okay. It was by doing this he couldn't help but frown returning his gaze forward. All of a sudden... All of a sudden Arthur seemed so much older. He couldn't place how, but the captain's eyes just weren't the same. The way he was handling himself, while so similar, was just slightly different. Was it all because... No, a head injury couldn't have caused all this. But then what did?

As if sensing he was getting to close to unraveling some hidden secret his head gave a painful throb. Afonso misjudging the next step and nearly falling into the river. He managed to catch himself, using his free hand to rub his head with a groan. Muttering to himself. "Think I'd be use to these..."

Dragged out of his thoughts by Afonso's slip, England yelped and braced himself, helping to keep him from falling into the river. Heart beating a mile a minute, he pulled the two of them as close to the rock wall as he could, he let out a shuddering breath. That was close. "Are you alright Afonso?" he turned, looking the taller man in the eye. He nearly stopped breathing as... as it almost looked like there were two people looking out of those eyes at him. Almost as if Portugal was watching him, hidden in the brown depths.

"Fi-Fine." He lied. Because if anything he wasn't. His head was beginning to feel like it was being split in two. The world tipped uneasily as a result. While he was use to these head aches, they had always been little annoyances and concerns, they had never been this painful. And then he could've sworn there was a voice whispering in the back of his mind. Alright, that was definitly new, and worrying. But Afonso could worry about it later. He couldn't panic in front of Arthur. He tried to smile reassuringly. Tried to ignore his inner panic. But when his eyes met Arthur's...

"... miss you..." The words left his lips. And it was like Afonso suddenly had no control over his own body or voice. And that sent his panic over the edge.

Stiffening, England's mouth fell open, a denial on his lips. No.. no. He didn't want Port to wake up here! But... instead of another word to shush the sleeping nation - he couldn't, not when he could see him looking back at him - "... I miss you too." he croaked out, looking so utterly torn. Holding both Po-Afonso's hands he rubbed his thumbs along the backs. "I miss you so badly... but... please. Please don't..." he choked, trying to keep it together.

Afonso wasn't sure how to explain this odd experience. Perhaps it could best be connected to an out of body experience... Except he was still fairly certain he was in his own body. It was just... Just someone else was in control. In actuality, that realization made this one of the scariest experience ever. And in a brief moment of control, he pulled his hands from Arthur's (no England's. No, no! His name was Arthur!) grip. Taking a shaky step back, and all but falling into the river again, he gripped his head. Breathing suddenly came in quick gasps. He couldn't breath. And an overwhelming urge to run came over him. A panic attack, his mind supplied, he was on the verge of a panic attack. He needed to calm down. Deep breath. Try and breath. Everything would be okay. Everything would be alright...

"Afonso!" he yelped, alarmed when he pulled away and very nearly fell in the water. Jumping forward, he was about to pull him back but the sheer panic on his face stopped him. "Afonso..." he said, trying to sound calmer than he was. "Calm down... it's okay. You're fine." He wished he could tell Portugal to go back to sleep as he was clearly the reason that the navigator was doing so poorly. "Just... just step away from the edge there, love. Relax, breathe. Stay with me and please, please don't fall." he nearly cried, wanting to protect both men in front of him from each other but not wanting to push further and accidently push them over the edge.

He tried to do what Arthur (England the voice kept correcting) said. He tried to take comfort in the others voice. But it was easier said then done. Still though, he managed to move away from the waters edge, leaning against the rock wall before sliding down it into a sitting position. Everything was spinning, even when he squeezed his eyes shut, it felt like he was spinning.

Kneeling down beside him, England heaved a relieved sigh. That was better - not great, as Afonso still looked to be on the verge of collapsing in on himself - but the threat of losing him was less. He honestly knew that if he lost Afonso again he wouldn't hesitate to jump in the river and drown with him instead of having to wait years and years for him to come back to him.

But, thoughts of dying aside, he hugged him as closely and as tightly as he could. "Shh... I'm here. I've got you. Go to sleep, love. I'll be here when you wake up again." He figured that saying it like that would at least not confuse Afonso and exasperate the situation worse - but Portugal... he sobbed dryly, trying to not think about it too closely. He longed to see him as much as he wished for him to stay away.

Releasing his head, Afonso rose a shaky hand to hold onto Arthur's sleeve. As if he was his life line. And in retrospect, at the moment, Afonso did feel like the other was his life line at the moment. In the back of his head, he couldn't help but wonder if he was dying. And that mere notion made the panic swell. He couldn't die. He couldn't die! He couldn't leave Arthur (not again. Again? What did that mean?) He couldn't understand anything. His head feeling alarmingly light. All he could do was hold onto Arthur, trying to match his breathing with the others.

"St-stay," he heard his own voice say. With that same stubbornness he knew all too well. "Want to... I wa-want to stay."

"I... I want you to stay too but..." he leant in, leaning his forehead against the others. "You're hurting him... I don't want either of you to hurt..." If he could just kiss it all away, he would... but at the moment he was pretty sure it would make it all worse. If only he could go back to sleep - leave Arthur unconscious and Afonso injured with a clean conscience. But avoiding this was impossible - he had to stay here. He had no choice. "Please... I love you... don't hurt yourself." England desperately didn't want Portugal to confront him - just as desperately as he wanted to talk to him again.

He wanted to say something. Anything. But he couldn't get his voice to work. Breath. Needed to breath. He repeated it over and over again, taking deep breaths, trying to match Arthur's. Things were becoming hazy. Tried to stay focus, blinking dazedly at Arthur. But just like before, the moment his eyes met the others, the pain in his head intensified. Again he seemed to lose control of his own body. Closing the tiny distance to kiss England (no... No his name was Arthur... Right? He wasn't sure anymore).

And for a brief moment, Portugal had full control. Smiling into the simple kiss, before pulling away. Holding England close and resting his head against the others shoulders. "... Adeus... Por agora, Inglaterra. Te amo..."

His body went limp, both Afonso and Portugal blacking out.

It was as if someone had hit his panic button - the moment Afonso went limp, England had him laid out on the ground and checking his vitals. Something had to be wrong - why was the whole reincarnation thing messing up this time around?!? - but as Afonso's pulse was thready but there and he was breathing. "Oh god..." he muttered, trying his hardest to not just burst into helpless tears. Something had to have gone wrong - why else was he seeing Arthur in his head and Afonso was having splitting headaches. "Please be okay..."

It was only a few minutes that Afonso shifted, slowly coming too. Both hands moved to hold his head, before he blinked blearily regaining conciousness. And for a brief moment, the panic swelled again, Afonso momentarially not recognizing where he was. Then he caught sight of Arthur (that was Arthur... Right?), and the panic subsided. Reaching out one hand quietly, he rested it against Arthur's cheek. He looked ready to cry. His stomach twisted uneasily. He had never wanted to make Arthur worry that much again...

The moment Afonso opened his eyes, he'd find himself with an armful of blond englishman, spouting off worried sounding incoherent nothings. He had seen Portugal in those eyes again, so he'd meant what he'd said. Goodbye for now. It was amazing how lonely he felt without him there. Did that mean he should stop hiding? He didn't know the answer to that - all he knew was that Afonso was hopefully going to be okay

All he could do was hold Arthur close, rubbing the others back weakly. Hoping to calm him down slightly. His head still ached, though now he more or less just felt groggy. Like he had woken up from an odd dream. "I'm alright... Sorry."

Sucking in a deep breath, England ran his fingers through Afonso's messy hair. "It's okay... you're okay." he mumbled, not wanting to let go of the other. It was becoming late afternoon, so while he could stay there in the sun that was shining down on their backs for a long while, he began to wonder if they'd get out of the trench by nightfall. If that was the case, he didn't want to wander too far away from their shelter. "Can you stand?"

He nodded, blinking dazedly. His head felt clouded still, part of him still feeling like he was dreaming. But he knew he wasn't. And he knew they had to keep moving. Even if just lying there in the warm sun with Arthur was appealing. Very appealing. The urge to fall back to sleep was tempting too. He couldn't do that though. "Sorry..."

That tore it - shifting around so he could lift Afonso into his arms, England balanced as carefully as he could on the slick rocks. He was taking him back to the enclosure and they were going to rest more. As much as he'd love to get whatever they came for and leave... it'd have to wait until tomorrow. Afonso was in no condition to continue on.

Sliding along and ignoring whatever protests the navigator made, he made it back to the ship wreckage and set the slight man on the edge of what seemed to be a hull plank. "Over you go..." he stretched sore arms as he avoided looking Afonso in the eye, face flushed slightly.

"Ar-Arthur!" Afonso still dazed eyes had widened, he tried to squirm his way free, insisting over and over again he was fine. Of course, he stopped squirming upon remembering the slick rocks. And once realizing his protests were falling on deaf ears, those too soon stopped. When he'd finally been set down he could not help but frown a little, blinking still a bit quickly to try and shake the fog over his mind. "I said I was alright..."

"Obviously you're less fine than I am!" he huffed, eye catching something shiny in the water so he wouldn't have to look back at the other. "So that means you aren't fine at all... you need to rest." Sleep would probably be the best for both of them - even if he was nervous about seeing Arthur in his dreams again. And... while he didn't want to wake up again... wanted to hide away, he couldn't help but be worried. If he went back into hiding... would Afonso and Arthur be alright? Would leaving them there, both injured and sick and barely able to take care of themselves... would they come out alive?

These were the thoughts in his head as the shiny thing in the water glimmered green. Blinking in surprise, he leaned over the edge to get a closer look at whatever it was...

"I'm fine!" He nearly snapped. Because why couldn't Arthur believe him? Or at least let him carry on, like the Brit always insisted on doing. Afonso frowned a little, before noticing the other leaning toward the edge. He was about to question it, before noticing the glow. And then a sudden thought came to his fogged mind. "No way..."

"What is that?" he asked, kneeling down and dipping one arm into the freezing water. he was curious - and almost like a magpie, he swore. It was something left over in him from the days where he'd been at the height of his pirate era - anything shiny, anything valuable caught his eye. Grabbing onto it with numb fingers, he pulled up a glowing green... ring?

"Let me see that?" He reached out towards Arthur, nearly falling over again. It couldn't be. Was it really... Had he been wrong the entire time!? He took the green ring from Arthur, staring at it for a moment before standing up. Ignoring how his head and ankle throbbed simultaneously. "I-It can't be..."

Playing as if he knew what the daft thing was - aside from a really pretty piece of emerald on a nice silver ring - he echoed "I think it is..." and hoped that he'd find out at some point in time why this one little ring was so important. Trying it on his ring finger, he was pleased to note that it was a perfect fit. Holding it up for the other to see, he grinned faintly. "Think it's my color?"

Afonso stared at Arthur for a moment before laughter escaped him. At first he tried to quell it, it did no good honestly and only made his head ache. But it wouldn't be stopped. And when he saw the bewildered look on Arthur's face... Well that only made the laughter double, Afonso pressing a hand to his aching head. Honestly, all along it was right besides them! How had he missed that?

Grin growing into a wide smirk, England couldn't help but chuckle - Afonso's laugh was contagious. "Is it really that funny?" he asked, horribly amused but enjoying the sight of seeing the other man happy instead of injured or unconcious. If wearing some silly ring made him so happy, well - England supposed that as long as he was in control, he wasn't going to take it off.

[Arthur Kirkland]

It really wasn't that funny. But Afonso couldn't stop laughing. If anything, it was pathetic that Afonso hadn't realized their goal was right in front of them. He should have realized it earlier, some navigator he was. And yet, he couldn't really feel angry at himself for not realizing it, his laughter slowly peetering off as he nodded, smiling up at Arthur. "It was right in front of us the whole time!"

Nodding in agreement, England let his hand slip back down to his side. "Which is great and all - but now that we have it... should we head back now, or wait until morning?" he settled himself on the side of the upturned ship. "Tell me, truthfully and with alot of thought put into it: would you like to stay the night and continue on with fresh light... or do you want to try and make it back as the sun sets?" he was injured and so was Afonso - but the lure of a bed and a bath was tempting... especially if Afonso would join him.

Glancing at the Brit Afonso frowned thoughtfully. Looking upwards he stared at the sky. The sun was beginning to set. It would do them no good to start back only to have darkness fall. The safest option would be for them to wait the night here and set out early the next day. But on the same flip side, if they managed to get back to the ships now, the sooner Arthur's head injury could be properly looked after. Even if he appeared (relatively) fine he needed to see a doctor... Still though. "We should wait until tomorrow morning. Now we run the risk of getting caught someplace in the dark."

With a relieved sigh, England leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before vaulting over to the other side of the ship and picking the other man back up. "Great. Then I'll start collecting wood. You take a load off your leg - I don't want you to make it worse before the long walk back tomorrow." Setting him down beside the embers of the fire they had left behind, England ran a soothing hand through the other mans hair. "And I don't want to hear the words 'I'm fine' come out of your mouth until you are actually fine."

"I am!" He knew he was probably acting a bit childishly, especially because he knew himself he wasn't fine. His ankle and head were throbbing, and the haze had yet to fully lift. But he wasn't completely unable to do anything. And head injuries were worse, especially if it was a concussion. Reaching up he caught Arthur's wrist, frowning at the other. "Why can't you believe me?"

"Because the last time you said you were fine, you had a massive headache and fainted." he grasped the hand that was holding his wrist and knelt down beside Afonso. "You almost fell into the water and good gods above, if I had lost you..." he trailed off, trying to force the few tears that gathered in his eyes away. "What if I'm not watching and you fall? You could get yourself killed - even in this area. All it would take is one good blow to the head on a rock and you'd be gone forever." reaching out, he brushed a hand along the navigators temple. "So... please, stay?" he wished he could think of something for Afonso to do - he knew and hated the feeling of being a burden... but they had no food to cook and only so many bandages. All he could think they needed right now was a fire to keep them warm at night.


"And your the one who actually fell into the water! Your the one that almost va-" He cut himself off, looking away promptly. Taking an almost shuddering breath he tried to calm down. Tried to stop imagine what could have almost happened. Arthur had been the one that had almost died today. If there hadn't been that light, Afonso would still be looking for him. Squeezing his eyes shut he tried to shake the haze away. And it was dissapating slowly. "You're hurt too."

"I..." he trailed off, realizing he was about to be hypocritical and say 'I'm fine' when he wasn't. "I am. My head hurts like a bitch. But I don't feel woozy and I can walk without too much pain. That's why I'm getting the firewood." it wasn't much of a compromise but.. "But I am tired... would you be okay taking first watch?"

"Guess sitting here is all I'm good for." He muttered, not being able to help how bitter it came out. But he was frustrated. This wasn't how today was suppose to go. It wasn't. He wasn't suppose to worry. That was the whole point of the trip. He was trying to make it up to Arthur for worrying him so much. In the end it seemed to have back fired...

Biting his lip, England leaned over and hugged Afonso for all he was worth. "That's not true, luv. You got us here, you saved me from dying - you even did that on an injured leg." Tangling his fingers once more in Afonso's curly hair - he swore he could just stay that way forever, he loved the feeling and scent of the other man - he decided to screw the firewood for now - it wasn't like it was going anywhere. "You've done more than your fair share of the work - I need to catch up to make it even." he leaned back, looking the other man straight in his eyes. "I owe you my life, Afonso. Let me at least do this small thing for you..."

"You don't owe me anything..." His eyes darted to the side. And as much as he wanted to just stay annoyed, stay frustrated, he couldn't at the moment. Sighing wearily he met Arthur's eyes with his ownr. "You saved me life before too, and besides..." Leaning forward he rested his head against Arthur's shoulder. If anything to hide the blush that was creeping across his cheeks. "I would die if that meant keeping you safe Arthur..."

With a faint, watery chuckle, England placed a kiss in that wonderful hair. "I feel the same way, 'Fonso..." and it was very true, because England had died for Portugal before, saving his life from a falling bomb - and he knew he would do it again in a heartbeat if it kept this man alive. "So... so let's make a compromise and promise we'll both never come into another position where we'd likely die - that way, neither one of us will have to sacrifice ourselves for the other."

With a small laugh he nodded, wrappign his arms around Arthur tightly. Today had been too close for him. He had almost lost Arthur. Without lifting his face from the others shoulder he nodded, takign a shaky breath as he felt tears slip down his cheeks. Today had been far too close for comfort. "I... I like that promise."

"Wonderful. I like it too." And it was like a paradigm shift - England suddenly knew. As much as he wanted to, he couldnt' hide. He had to be here - be with Afonso. Be with Portugal when he woke up. Holding tightly onto the man that both he and his re-incarnated self had come to love, it was like the world had settled finally into something he could understand. When the time came for Arthur to remember being a Nation... he'd be there. And he'd be ready to face the world again. "Love you..." he mumbled, a silly and yet somewhat sad smile slipped onto his face.

Smiling a little he pulled away, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand before looking at Arthur. He saw the sad smile, blinking a bit curiously. Quietly though he leaved forward, brushing his lips against Arthur's. "I love you too... More then you could ever imagnie..."

Forgetting the sadness temporarily, England leaned forward with a laugh, deepening the kiss for a long, lingering moment before pulling away, smiling like a loon. "I can imagine quite a bit. That must be some love..." that we share, he thought to himself, fairly bubbling with happiness. Now that he'd decided to return... everything seemed less shadowed - more lively and bright.

Chuckling at that he smiled, the pain in his head momentarially forgotten. Wanting nothing more then to pull Arthur back down into a kiss. But he had a good feeling if he did that, the two wouldn't move for a long while. And he knew Arthur was tired. With a bit of effort he pushed away from the other, smiling a bit. "It's starting to get dark... Better get some wood."

With a regretful sigh and one last kiss to Afonso's cheek, England stood back up and stretched as he turned, heading for the wrecked ship. Finding bits and pieces that he could easily tug off, he managed to get enough for a decent pile that should last the night. With a grateful sigh, he sat back down beside the navigator, tossing a few good sized pieces of wood on the dying fire. "There we go..." he closed his eyes, letting his head rest on Afonso's shoulder.

With a small smile he rose a hand running it through the Brits hair before leaning down to kiss the top of it. "Get some rest." Never had Afonso thought the outting would turn into something so crazed. Or dangerous. Wrapping an arm around Arthur's shoulders he hugged him close, relieved that in the end, they were both still relatively okay.

With a faint yawn and a smile, England felt his eyes getting heavy. "Right... wake me up in a few hours for a watch?" he mumbled, unconsciously curling closer to Afonso's side to share the warmth. This was surprisingly nice, just relaxing together. It almost overshadowed the entire exhausting and stressful day. Now, if only they could get back to the ship in the morning and be able to spend more time together without the potential injuries, he'd be set.

"Mmm, I will." Though part of him was tempted to just let Arthur sleep straight through the night. But that would probably lead to them arguing. With a small yawn of his own, he hugged the Brit again, relieved that the stressful day had come to a close.