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Nobody knew quite how the soulmate watches worked. All anyone really knew was what their mothers and fathers told them: you were born with them and the numbers indicated how long you had in years, months, days, minutes and seconds until you met the one you would spend the rest of your life with. In odd cases, the watches would fall off before you met them – no-one outwardly spoke about the implications.
Ensign Arthur Kirkland thought nothing of it when he joined the army, hoping to make his merchant father proud and perhaps help to bolster their standing. Really, Arthur hoped to be able to travel, see new worlds, gain worldly experience before he would have to settle down with whoever turned out to be his soulmate. He still had five years until he would meet them so he predicted that the unrest in the New World would be long over and he would be able to return to England to find them.
But the unrest became skirmishes and those became battles until it was war. Arthur could scarcely believe that he was still on a different continent when his clock switched from years to months. The men in his regiment laughed and joked, saying he would end up the soulmate of one of the women they'd fucked along the way. Arthur was disgusted with them but, as they were his seniors, he said nothing and merely grumbled to Matthew, his only real friend now.
He hoped that none of the women on this continent were his soulmate – he wasn't entirely sure what he would do.
The day his clock changed from days to hours, they were travelling through a forest, the perfect place for an ambush. There was no other way around it, not when they needed to be meeting with other regiments further south and were running short on time. It was silent save for the nickering of the horses and the tramping of their boots on the dirt path. Their clothing rustled and Arthur's eyes flickered to and fro, convinced something would happen soon. Matthew's grip on the strap of his rifle was tight, his jaw clenched. Arthur wished he could say something to put the man's mind at ease.
Then the trees exploded. Men shouted and fell; those that did so never stood again. The horses neighed and one of them reared, his master falling from it. Beside Arthur, Matthew cried out, clutched his shoulder, and fell onto his back. Before he could get up or even roll out of the way, the spooked horse trampled on him and Matthew lay still. Arthur stared at him in horror, noting the watch which was now visible through his torn coat: the numbers were frozen.
Around him, the other officers and ensigns were beginning to defend their entourage, aiming into the trees and fruitlessly shooting at their camouflaged attackers. Arthur shrugged his rifle from his shoulder and pointed it at a random bush. With a bang, the rifle kicked back and a cry came from the area he had aimed at. Something fell out from it, rolling to a stop beside the cart of ammunition. Other rebels' bodies were rolling down the incline and onto the path and Arthur's fellow shoulders seemed to be in brighter spirits, one even uttering a battle cry. But Arthur heard the distant whistle and the bushes rustled and he knew they were retreating.
Glancing around at the carnage, Arthur spotted Matthew, his face unrecognisable, eyes unseeing and staring towards the canopy above. The adrenaline which had bore him through the brief battle drained from him instantly. Another rustle, however, transformed Arthur's sorrow into rage. Without giving a thought to formation or rank, Arthur seized Matthew's unfired rifle, made sure it was properly loaded and gave chase, ignoring the shouts of the men about him. He had lost too many friends in this irritating war and he would at least have his revenge for such a good friend's death.
Arthur crashed through the foliage until he realised he didn't know which way the enemy was fleeing. He stopped and listened, trying to quiet his rapid heartbeat and his loud panting. Then – ahead! Arthur rushed forward, aiming for the direction the rustling had come from. He made a lot of noise, which was unfortunate, but, every time time he stopped to listen for the rustling, it seemed to be louder. Was he closing in?
Abruptly, he came to a large clearing where remains of a camp could be seen, patches of earth a different colour from the green grass from where people had lain. Gunpowder had been spilled and some of it was caught on blades of grass. A path around the perimeter had been walked on repeatedly; they had been lying in wait. And, across the way empty space and getting further from Arthur, was a man in green.
“Halt!” Arthur demanded, aiming for the man's back. “Halt or I shoot,” he added, wondering if the enemy soldier would obey or if he would rush off into the cover of the vegetation. Thankfully, the man did so with a sound that may have been a gasp. They stayed frozen for a few minutes till Arthur could hear the distant noises of fighting and injured men over the beating of his heart.
Coming to his senses, Arthur shifted a little, wondering what to do. Should he kill the man? Matthew's face swam before his eyes and, in his anger, he tightened his grip on his rifle, fully prepared to kill the man. However, his superiors would not be happy if he came back without information. So should he take him prisoner? If the soldier knew any information which would help end this war, Arthur might be given some sort of a reward. He could use it to settle down back in England. Lord, how he missed it...
The soldier's hand twitched and Arthur remembered himself, pushing back his homesickness and focussing on the present. “Move your hands where I can see them,” he demanded. The man tensed and slowly moved his hands up, his elbows tucked in at his waist. Relieved he had obeyed, Arthur gave him another order. “All right. Turn around. Slowly – don't try anything funny.”
Obediently, the man began to do so. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, wondering how the British Army could be having trouble here if it was simple enough to make them obey. However, once the man had swivelled ninety degrees, he suddenly spun much faster, startling Arthur.
Several things happened at once. He saw beautiful blue eyes, narrowed slightly in determination but so striking that Arthur felt his heart clench in his chest. There was a bang. Something hit Arthur's chest, forcing him to stumble. A ringing noise sounded from somewhere close followed by a click and a muffled thump. Some sort of weight lifted from Arthur's left wrist causing him to fumble his rifle and drop it. Pain bloomed in his chest and he couldn't tell if his heart was breaking when he spotted the pistol in the enemy's hand. Then he fell backwards, watching as his view changed from shocked blue eyes to the deep green foliage of the trees and finally landed on the sky above.
Arthur thought the man's eyes matched it in colour, if not far surpassed it in beauty.
“No!” shouted the man and, as Arthur struggled to breathe, he heard hurried footsteps followed by a thud of something heavy hitting the ground. The man's face came into view, his wide eyes staring into Arthur's. Whoever he was, he had blond hair, messy from having had a hand run through it, perhaps, or maybe the wind. His lips looked soft but they were pulled downwards with fear and grief, something which pained Arthur to see. “No, no!” the man said, gathering Arthur up to lay the ensign's head on the man's lap.
“You...” Arthur managed, still in shock.
“Sh-Shush,” said the man, choking back a sob. “Oh, God, please- I need to get you to a doctor.”
Staring at him, Arthur opened his mouth to speak. Before a sound could come out, he coughed and he felt some liquid on his lips. “I...”
“No, please,” his soulmate said, sounding defeated. “This... This can't be... Why is this happening?”
At that point, Arthur suddenly realised that he felt numb. The pain had gone. With that, the realisation of what was about to happen came upon him and he felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He didn't want to leave his soulmate, not now they had found each other. What would this man do without him? And then he realised they hadn't been introduced.
With a grunt, Arthur managed to catch the man's attention again, his watery eyes once more on his. Arthur smiled at him, trying to comfort him, trying to make a good impression despite the tears running down his cheeks. “A-” He coughed, took a breath, coughed some more and finally was able to say, “Ar... thur...”
“Arthur?” the man breathed. Arthur gave a small nod, his vision beginning to fade, even as he kept his gaze on those amazing eyes. “I-I'm Alfred. Alfred Jones.”
He managed a little laugh. “Alfred...” he said, once he had caught his breath – Arthur's final one.