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It's quiet, somehow when it happens.
Given what happened before it, he had expected it to be louder. In fact, he expects a lot of things. One of them being that Alex expects that when he opens his eyes, he'll be in a hospital bed withering in immense pain, blood still sprayed across his chest.
However, he just gets water and lots of it - which is already confusing enough as no hospital he knows exists within the ocean.
They don't see the car coming, which is understandable given it's quite late at night in winter and Shaan's just picked them up from the airport in order to take them to Balmoral for Christmas, as it was Queen Catherine's year to host them.
(They alternated yearly after all, given both had dual visas - plus, Alex's mother and father were kind of in the Rockies for their late anniversary trip, so it had worked out after all.)
Granted, the roads aren't exactly spectacular, but they are manageable and with caution, people would be able to navigate them easily, but it's still obvious that some people in Scotland still need to learn how to not speed like their English counterparts as while they are waiting at a stop light, a Jeep similar to theirs comes flying out of the darkened fields and barely lit houses surrounding them and takes them out.
Alex can remember the sound of the crash, the broken glass stabbing into him like a thousand tiny knives, the rolling of the car as it's thrown from one lane down a nearby embankment as he clutched onto Henry for dear life, but that's about all.
He doesn't know if Henry's okay, if Shaan is, if his team of bodyguards are currently pulling him out of the wreck lifeless and blood-bathed. All he knows is white - there's nothing. No pain, no feelings, no…anything. Just a vast expanse of nothingness.
When he does come to, it's with a gasp and his body fails as he sits up, something holding onto his waist, but before he can ask anyone any questions, a breeze ruffles his hair that kinda makes him pause and squeeze open his suddenly alert eyes, taking in the sight of some murky, not clear greenish water that he's apparently staring down at like it owes him money.
As he said before, no hospital he knows exists in the ocean. Or anywhere /outside/ for that matter, less it was a field hospital and the last time Alex had seen the outside, it was covered in snow drifts and was hovering around single digits. This place is neither of those and it's only affirmed when he's able to sit himself up and his breath is taken away.
He's not in the ocean as he'd first thought, but in a lake of some kind, surrounded by green hills and mountains that are so tall they disappear into a halo of cloud that opens into a patch of blue sky that seems to shimmer with a golden sparkle that makes his eyes hurt.
Feeling around before looking out of the glare provided, he finds the worn wooden sides of a small boat cradling him, along with a lifeboat jacket that's somehow appeared over his jumper he got off the plane with, an old fashioned transistor radio on his left whose volume is turned way down and a toolbox on his right.
A quick glance behind him shows that the engine is not only attached, but switched off and the waves were barely touching the vessel as it bobs through them like an apple at Halloween.
"Don't worry my boy-" A sudden jovial, but calm voice pipes up from his head as he suddenly flinches back around. "-the safety's on. We won't be going anywhere for a long while."
The man sitting across from him gives him a warm smile, making his panicked heart slow in its freakout for a little bit. He's not that old, older than Alex of course, but he could pass for Alex's own father, possibly, had he been Hispanic.
However, the latter can tell this man is not Mexican, for he has a little too much bright platinum blonde hair on his head and face and not enough brown in his skin, despite age spots and sun spots making their various appearances.
He's wearing an olive green overcoat with a waffle knit jumper underneath in blue, brown pants, boats and leather gloves adorning his hands, a fishing rod in one and a free one held out towards Alex intently. "I was wondering when I'd see you, Mr. Claremont-Diaz. You've been passed out there for a long time. Quite concerning as I hoped you'd be awake sooner."
Confused as hell, a stunned Alex can only hesitantly reach out and grasp the hand offered like he was taught to during training when his mother first became the President, stuttering out the words "Well it's been a rough evening." before he can really think of a better response, sitting there blinking as the words registered.
"Ah, yes, quite." Then looks solemn as he takes in the younger's form. "I heard about what happened, nasty accident that. Thankfully, everyone seems to be fine despite a few bruises and scrapes. People thought I was balmy for walking in the snow up at the castle, but it was all because I wanted to avoid that."
He takes a breath in as he checks his rod for any signs of activity, before turning back to Alex with a frown "Honestly, I thought it first that I would be seeing my Henry. However, this not the way I wanted to do that, let alone you."
His Henry? It was a firm fact that Henry belonged to no one. Granted at one point, Henry had said he belonged to England as a whole and Alex couldn't exactly dispute that, he still didn't believe it. Sometimes he didn't even think Henry belonged to /him/ and yet, the least 4 years of their lives have proven that differently than he'd expected - so who does this guy think he is?
Looking at him closer, Alex only sees it when he looks at the frown lines around the man's forehead, lips and eyes, seeing Henry staring back at him, older and greying. The world sways like the boat seems to as his brain suddenly lights on fire and he swallows hard as his lips part open, hand white knuckling it on one of the wooden sides. "You…you're Arthur Fox."
"That I am." Arthur dips his head respectfully. "I'm not surprised you didn't recognise me off the bat. Sadly, my boy, I'm all too well aware that my films aren't exactly popular in the US, witht he exception of Bond of course."
Alex can't help but grin embarrassingly at the observation. "Yeah…not many people know of Paloma June and Hudson's Last Stand. There's a few dedicated groups who followed your theatre performances on social media, but since…you know-" He can't exactly say it, but it seems Arthur gets the gist as he just chuckles and nods. "Since."
The silence stretches on between them for a while again, before Alex finds his nerve to speak, chest tight. "Mr. Fox-"
"Call me Arthur, please, Mr. Claremont-Diaz. Mr. Fox was my Tad." The older man chuckles and Alex can't help but almost smile, the gravity of the situation however still heavy enough to weigh him down. "Arthur…am I…?"
"Dead?" The man sighs, shaking his head. "Thankfully not, Alexander. As far as I am aware, but be mindful I have limited abilities, you are just sitting in limbo here while your body is in a coma. Hence why I am able to talk to you."
"Right." Oh, so he's fucked. He doesn't /feel/ like he's hurt and there's no blood or anything, but he doesn't doubt Arthur. Henry always said that his father had a knack for telling the truth as gently as possible, hence why Henry liked being told of events unfolding as soon as possible to avoid having the wrong reaction in public.
Still, Alex can feel the panic start to rise and his breathing starting to hurt his chest at the fact he was unconscious somewhere and currently alone with a dead person and had no idea what was going on outside of here, not to mention the fact he was stuck involuntarily in a lake without any means of escape.
He wasn't the best swimmer, not like Henry who could have swum to France if he had really wanted to, but Alex was not about to get his clothes soaked and make him hypothermic. He didn't fancy freezing his dick off, but he might actually just dive into the water to check it's real before Arthur saves him.
Turns out, Arthur is also good at sensing stupid ideas, for the moment Alex drops it from his mind after a worrying amount of silent thinking, Arthur signs in relief before he starts speaking again. "I am actually quite kind that I've gotten the opportunity to meet you, Alexander, if you don't mind myself saying so."
"Really?" Alex can't help but question that. He's not exactly prime material for meeting people, given his reputation still follows him despite Henry's influence, but he sounds so genuine.
"Yes." Arthur's voice shifts from its bright tone to a more conservative one, his eyes suddenly drifting on the water. "My Henry is a…special boy. You know that. Leaving him and his siblings was…one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. Catherine knew, she understood in a way, but he was so young. Beatrice and Phillip weren't there when I passed, they were at engagements, but…he was, right there at my side, in the bed, Catherine holding my hand as he held me. I can even remember him talking about Mongolia, he went there for his gap year in university you know, to study literature as part of his degree. You should ask him about it one day."
It sounds tragic and it makes Alex swallow his tears as he doesn't exactly want to cry right now, but god, he can't imagine what Henry must have felt.
He of course, had talked about his father dying and there were enough press stories about it that it wasn't lost on Alex how popular the man had been both before and after becoming a royal, but hearing that his boyfriend had been there, physically holding onto the only man he'd claimed that loved other than Alex himself, as he died in his arms, was almost lethal.
Again, Arthur seemed to sense this, as he tilted his head back up to look at the latter with a sad smile. "I'm regretful that Henry had to experience such events because of me, but I am thankful because of them that he got someone who loves him almost as much as I do. I can see how you treasure him, Alexander and I'm grateful you do."
He adjusted his grip on the rod he held. "Henry always had a kind heart, much kinder than my mother and father-in-law wanted him to have. I hoped someone who could see him for the person he is would come along soon enough and here you are."
Alex dipped his head at the compliment, his insides feeling twisted and his heart beating loudly in his ears from his chest. "The pleasure's all mine, sir. Henry's…" There were so many things he could say, but only one of them felt fitting. "...perfect."
"Exactly what I wanted to hear." Arthur grins before his eyes shift and his gaze is looking behind Alex. "Looks like we have a fog bank rolling in from the south. A nasty one."
Alex twists his torso to look, only to be faced with a fast approaching ominous grey cloud that practically dances over the water. Much like the ones that…were in the sky when they got off the plane before their accident and his body stiffens. "That doesn't look like-"
Suddenly, the fog reaches them and it's like a tornado crashing into a house, the boat rocking with the sudden wind that surrounds them, howling and screaming as it becomes ice cold and dark, Alex unable to see anything around him. He panics and scrambles to his feet, feeling himself start to fall into the lake, but a hand grabs his and holds onto him for dear life as the world spins, calling his name. "Alexander? Alexander?! Alex!?"
It's not Arthur's voice anymore that is calling him and his head pounds with a force he's never felt before as the fog clears, his eyes open and him bolting up as he gasps, only to be held down by several pairs of arms as he tries to wiggle his way out of…wait, where was…?
"Alex!" Henry, pale, bruised, but still alive Henry, is at his side, hands on his chest. "It's okay, you're alright. Lie down, please lie down."
He breathes in, one, two, three. Twice. Then he's out like a light again.
"I met him, you know. While I was out." He mentions it a few days later when Henry is feeding him soup for lunch int he privacy of his hospital room. Turns out being in a coma for a week or so and being pumped with painkillers and anti-clotting medication can really fuck you up big time.
Henry makes a questioning noise as he scraps the bottom of the bowl again. "Met who?"
"/Him/, Henry." Alex's mouth quirks up in a sad smile much like the one he still remembers on Arthur's face. "He was as good of a man as you said he was. Said to ask you about Mongolia - you never told me you went to Mongolia, which I'm kinda pissed at, but can't really do anything about as this mediation has got my brain in a spin."
It goes about how Alex expected. The spoon clatters from Henry's hand, splattering them with little droplets of broth, but neither cares as Alex cares more that Henry's eyes have become wide and taken aback, slowing welling up as he swallows. "...how do you know that?"
"He told me." Alex's hushed tone makes his glazed eyes look even more glassy as he tried to remember everything like he has these last few days to tell Henry everything. The whole sequence,. How much his father loves him, not leaving out a single detail.
Pretty soon, both of them have shed tears and Henry's been gripping the bed for the last 20 minutes, but when Alex finishes, he can tell that normally stoic Henry believes him and watches as the blonde wipes his eyes. "You met him. You actually met him."
"He loved you so much, Hen. Seriously." Alex nodded from the bed as he watched him closely. He hated seeing Henry upset. "Apparently I can't love you more than him either, which is kind of a challenge, but I didn't mention that to him, so-."
That got Henry laughing, a few more tears dipping down his still raw cheeks as he shook his head, sniffling while he wiped them away. "Only my father could say that to you, Alexander Claremont-Diaz."
"Ooh, almost the full name, don't turn me on now." Alex ribs and Henry rolls his eyes before he's chuckling again and pressing his lips to the other's forehead. "I love you so much, Alex."
"Love you too, Hen." Alex's eyes close at the contact, almost seeing that boat still on the lake in the gray shadows behind his eyes, feeling the love coming from both the vision and the person hovering above him. "Love you too."