Author's Note: Here's the final chapter! Thanks again to the Tumblr anon who requested this idea. I hope I didn't disappoint!

"Where is it? It has to be here somewhere!"

The clattering of a keyboard and its adjoining mouse being forcefully thrown to the ground rouses Alfred, and he jolts his head up in confusion, concerned. It's morning, judging by the sunlight raining down on them from the skylight. It does seem a bit cloudy, and Alfred can't stop the momentary panic in his stomach at the thought of there being a storm.

"Arthur, what's wrong?"

"When I catch that bastard, I'm going to wrap my hands around his neck and strangle him… The conniving git."

"What's happening?"

As though just realizing Alfred is in the room with him, Arthur swings his head around to look at him with green eyes that are almost glowing with rage and frowns, casting sharp lines across his face.

"Everything will be fine," he growls after a moment, not sounding the least bit convincing. I need to take care of a quick errand, so you're going to have to entertain yourself for a while."

Alfred matches his frown. "You're leaving me here alone? What if somebody comes in or—?"

"I'll lock the door. I won't be gone long. Just please, don't get into any trouble."

He doesn't have the energy to look at Alfred before he goes. He doesn't want to see his disappointment, or worse, his disdain. He's not fond of the idea of leaving the boy to fend for himself either, but they're in a dire situation, and he doesn't have any other choice.

He needs to find Francis before he does something irreversible. The blood sample in the fridge is now missing, and the Frenchman is late for his shift, which can only mean one thing.

Why Arthur didn't notice sooner is beyond him. He should have been made aware of the missing sample last night when Francis left. He knew he should have checked to make sure it was still there, but he trusted Francis, especially after seeing the way he was getting along with Alfred.

He knows now, however, that no one can be trusted. In fact, he barely trusts himself on most days.

Once he's certain the lab is secure, he gets in his car and drives toward Francis's house, not sure where else to start his search. He could be anywhere. He could've driven out of the city already and handed the blood sample over to other researchers.

All things considered, it must be fate when Arthur drives frantically down Maple Street and catches Francis driving in the opposite direction. In the course of two seconds, Arthur makes an abrupt U-turn and drives his car straight into Francis's bumper, rear-ending him and forcing him to a stop.

Heart pounding, Arthur jumps out of the car as Francis does the same, and then they're both standing in the middle of the road in a cozy residential area, glaring at one another like two bulls getting ready to butt heads.

"Are you insane? Were you trying to snap my neck?" Francis shouts at him just as the clouds draw nearer and the rumble of a thunderstorm vibrates in the distance.

"That was my goal, but unfortunately for both of us, you're still alive, you traitorous sod! What did you do with the blood sample?"

Francis bows his head morosely and shakes it. "I knew you wouldn't understand."

"You swore the both of us would keep him safe."

"Well, all of that changed once I realized I had to do my part for the greater good—for science. That is what my job is, Arthur, to use my research to better the lives of others, even if that means having to pay an ugly price."

"What gives you the right to make that kind of decision?" Arthur cries out, fingers ripping at his hair. "What has Alfred done to deserve something like this? You're exposing him to a lifetime of scrutiny and exploitation. You saw him playing with that beach ball. He's innocent, and now you want to take his innocence away from him for the off-chance that his cells will somehow link together the information we need to cure someone's Alzheimer's or cancer. There will always be disease in the world. We all must face death someday, but why put that burden on someone else? On someone who has done nothing to deserve such treatment? Who are you to decide that humanity is worth the sacrifice of another being's life?"

Francis clears his throat and looks away, just as frustrated. "And what gives you the right to decide it isn't worth it?"

"Because I know what people are capable of and the horrible things they do to each other, and I know what they'll do to Alfred. He won't be allowed a moment of peace."

"I can't let you throw away all of the potential this research holds. Out of good conscience, Arthur, I can't let you hide him away forever."

"What did you do with the blood?"

Francis purses his lips and crosses his arms. "It doesn't matter. I'm doing what you don't have the courage to do."

"Courage? You call this courage?" Arthur shouts, red and flushed. "You're a coward. A man with courage would have the decency to know when to preserve something so unfettered and keep it out of the wrong hands. It takes courage to know that there are things science shouldn't have the right to meddle in."

"What if he's the only one?" Francis asks, gaining fervor. "What if he's the only damned merman in the entire ocean—one mistake in the evolutional chain of the human species—and then you set him free? What then?"

"That doesn't change anything. Whether he's the only one or one of a hundred he deserves to be free. Maybe his existence will fade into nothingness and no one will ever know. If so, it is better that way. Why expose him to the harsh realities of living inside of a lab? He isn't ours to claim, and there's some knowledge that's better left unshared and untouched," Arthur counters, hands shaking by his sides. "Please, Francis, I beg you, we've worked together for over ten years now, and if I know you as well as I think I do, I know you haven't done anything permanent yet. Don't make this decision. Don't give away the blood sample. Give Alfred the freedom to live his life just as he always has, without our intervention."

It's strange, Francis's expression suddenly becomes very solemn, and Arthur can't remember the last time the Frenchman was this serious. It is a confrontation that was inevitable from the start, and they're both afraid of making any moves.

"Please," Arthur repeats, blood rushing loudly through his ears as his heart threatens to reach its maximum capacity of beats per second.

Francis sighs, runs a hand through his own hair, and steps farther away from his car, giving Arthur access to the trunk. "Take it. It's in the cooler."

Carefully, Arthur ventures closer, not moving too quickly lest Francis feels cornered and changes his mind. He pulls open the back of the sedan and finds the blood sample within seconds, feeling an immense sense of relief and consolation come over him once it's back in his hands.

"Thank-you," he murmurs, even though part of his brain is screaming at him to attack Francis for almost jeopardizing everything. "I know it isn't easy... It never is. When I looked through that microscope the other day, I felt... I was worried I wouldn't be able to trust myself with such a great responsibility."

He doesn't know why he's opening up to Francis like this. Perhaps it's for his own benefit. He needs to acknowledge he is just as fallible. Their positions could easily have been reversed because he, too, has felt the awful temptation of wanting to bring light to things that are better left where they are in the darkness. He himself has often questioned the boundaries of science—has had to psychoanalyze everything he's ever believed in to make sure he could make a reasonable decision without doing more harm than good.

"Just hurry and get it out of here. I don't want to think about it any longer," Francis mumbles, covering his eyes with his hands in anguish.

Arthur is more than happy to oblige. He, too, wants to rid himself of this dangerous sample once and for all. He puts the small test tube into his bag and knows what he must do. He needs to get Alfred a new home, and then, he will get rid of the evidence so no one is ever given the opportunity to take advantage of it again.

"He can't stay at the lab," Francis says, as though reading his mind. "We need to move him."

"I know," Arthur readily agrees, even though there's an aching sadness hammering against his chest. "He'll be gone by tomorrow. I promise."

Francis nods his head once more, returns to his car, and drives off.

It isn't so surprising that the lab is not in the picturesque state Arthur hoped it would be in upon his return. Alfred is, thankfully, unharmed, which he supposes is the most important thing, even though the lamp on his desk has somehow been destroyed, and Alfred has managed to climb out of his tank and slide to the floor below.

"Do I want to know what you were doing?" Arthur asks him, collapsing in his desk chair after making sure the boy hasn't suffered any injuries aside from a bruise or two.

"The storm outside..." Alfred begins to explain meekly, a little embarrassed at having to admit his fears. He never musters the resolve to finish his sentence, but that's all right because Arthur doesn't pressure him to continue.

After some tugging and heaving, he manages to get Alfred back into the tank. The boy is far heavier than he looks, and he can't imagine how someone who thrives off a diet primarily made of lean fish could be so bulky.

"Thanks," Alfred gasps once he is submerged again. His gratitude, however, doesn't last very long because a clap of thunder suddenly sends a fleet of tremors through the lab, and he ducks his head instinctively and curls into a ball.

"The storm will pass soon enough," Arthur tries to reassure him, not sure how to go about being sympathetic without sounding like he's belittling the boy. More thunder tumbles through the building, and that's when an idea strikes Arthur, and he reaches for his cellphone.

He scrolls through his library of music and tries to find a fun, pleasant song to ease them both and settles on "Here Comes the Sun" by The Beatles, amused to see the look of astonishment on Alfred's face when the gentle sounds of a strumming guitar come floating out of his phone. He turns up the volume as loud as it can possibly go, cocks his head at Alfred, and sends him a soft smile.

Almost instantly, Alfred unfolds himself from his doubled-over position and blinks owlishly. He seems to struggle with how to react, until finally, he closes his striking blue eyes and bobs his head along to the easy-going rhythm, hypnotized. He doesn't stop until the song ends and the guitar fades, upon which point he seems ready to curl into himself once more.

Fortunately, Arthur puts on another song, and they manage to get through "Ob La Di, Ob La Da," "Twist and Shout," and "Dear Prudence" before Alfred beings to relax and his mind wanders far enough from the storm outside that the crackling thunder no longer sends goosebumps down his arms.

It's a travesty that the boy has never been taught to dance, and so, Arthur takes it upon himself to show Alfred how to move to the music. He thanks the universe Francis isn't around to see him demonstrate how to "twist" to "Twist and Shout" because humiliating himself for Alfred's benefit is cringe-worthy enough without any spectators.

Loathe he is to admit it, Arthur is unbelievably happy, and he can't help but allow himself a few laughs when Alfred mimics his movements from within the tank, sashaying his torso and hips from side-to-side. They are quite the sight, and Alfred is brimming with goofy grins and giggles. He gets a kick out of seeing Arthur drop his rough and gruff exterior for a brief while. Here they both are, two very strange beasts in the middle of a research lab, dancing to smooth rock n' roll while the tropical depression rages on outside.

But Arthur knows that tomorrow he will have to transport Alfred elsewhere, and the boy will be reduced to nothing but a painful memory.

The song ends, and Alfred pauses, a grateful smile still stained across his face. "I wish I could be like you. I'd go everywhere in the world and—"

"No, Alfred. Stop," Arthur suddenly snaps at him, having heard enough. "You belong in the water, and that's where you're going to stay. Sooner or later, you're going to realize that everyone is given a place in life, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Alfred's smile turns in on itself and becomes a deep-seated frown. He opens his mouth to give a bitter response, but he runs out of steam too quickly and closes it again. In the end, he settles on giving Arthur the silent treatment and turns his back to him, flicking his tail back and forth in agitation.

"I didn't—" Arthur starts to apologize, realizing his mistake. "Alfred, I just… I don't want you to be disappointed. You know you can't stay on land forever. You have to go back."

But it's no use, because Alfred isn't listening to a word he's saying anymore, and Arthur is resigned to simply sighing in frustration. He thinks that maybe Alfred will get tired of holding a grudge and will eventually grant him the opportunity to make amends, but the boy is surprisingly stubborn and hard-headed, so they manage not to say anything to each other for the remainder of the day.

By nightfall, Arthur has found the location the merman will be moved to once and for all.

Francis doesn't come into work the following morning either, and his excuse is something along the lines of, "I don't want this to be any harder than it already is," which, of course, means that the man is too much of a coward to get down to the lab to say his final goodbyes to Alfred.

And at the rate things are going, Arthur isn't so sure he's brave enough to do so either. The boy still refuses to talk to him after their conversation the other day, and the last thing Arthur wants is to end this bizarre journey with a venomous conclusion.

Fortunately, he has one last plan up his sleeve, and one last chance to make things right, or at least, as right as they can be.

Once both he and Alfred have had some breakfast (French toast and eggs from the café down the street for Arthur and whitefish for Alfred), he brings in a moderate-sized wagon from the storage room and uses it to transport Alfred out of the main wing of the research lab because he knows all-too-well how heavy the boy is, and he isn't going to make the same mistake by attempting to carry him again.

At first, Alfred thinks he's being brought out to the car, so Arthur can drive him to his new marine habitat. However, he soon notices something isn't right when Arthur takes them into an elevator and a feeling of heaviness comes upon them, signaling that they are being carried to one of the upper levels.

"What are you doing?" Alfred asks once he has gotten over the initial shock of his first elevator ride. It's the first time he has spoken in almost twenty-four hours. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see in a moment," Arthur tells him calmly, leading them down a narrow hallway and through another door.

And then, they are on the roof, but it's not just any roof. It is a roof overflowing with white stuff that Alfred doesn't recognize until Arthur scoops some in his hands and tosses it into his lap.

"Snow," Alfred murmurs, stunned. He pokes at the glistening flakes to make sure.

"Well, the closest thing to snow, anyway," Arthur explains. "It's artificially made. I couldn't exactly carry you up to Mount Everest like you wanted, but I thought that this might suffice. Do you like it?"

Forgetting all about the silent treatment, Alfred bursts into a joyous laugh and rolls out of the wagon and into the fake snow as though this is the most spectacular thing he's ever seen. "Like it? It's great! You didn't have to do all of this just for me."

"W-Well," Arthur stammers, cheeks growing uncomfortably hot. He straightens the collar of his lab coat. "After the terrible things I said yesterday, I thought this might help…"

While he's busy trying not to look like he cares about Alfred's opinion too much, he's caught off guard by a snowball being pelted in his direction, and it collides with a soft crunch against his shoulder. Irritation wells up inside him like magma because after all he's done to appease the boy, this is the thanks he gets? The brat.

Alfred has a cheeky smirk on his face, challenging him.

Challenge accepted. Arthur picks up a chunk of snow, rounds it out, and launches it at the boy's chest. It sends Alfred reeling back in shock from the cold. Even though it's the middle of the summer and the sun is beating down on their necks, they still have another hour or so until their makeshift winter wonderland melts, and after all of the work Arthur went through to set it up, he'll be damned if they don't take full advantage of it.

Shamelessly, he gets entangled in a full-blown snowball fight, dodging projectiles left and right. By the time they agree to a ceasefire, the roof is mostly covered in meltwater, and the snow is too slushy to toss back and forth.

Short of breath from the scuffle, Alfred stares out at the town from his spot on the roof, eyes shining with reverence at the clear horizon. Arthur stands beside him, following his gaze.

"Thank you," Alfred mumbles very quietly, lips barely moving. For a brief moment, he seems much older than he really is.

Then, he does something completely unexpected. He lowers his head to his lap and begins to cry gently, shoulders shuddering with emotion.

"Alfred," Arthur sighs, reaching out a hand and retracting it again upon second guessing himself.

"Thank you… Thank you."

"It's nothing…"

Alfred laughs weakly and pathetically rubs at his leaking eyes. "These last few days have been the best days of my life."

"You don't say," Arthur rasps, throat tightening. It's getting late in the day, and he needs to transport Alfred out of here before the sun goes down. Everything the boy is saying now is just making things that much harder for both of them.

Enough. That'll have to be enough.

The new location is a barrier island surrounded by marvelous wetlands and gorgeous strokes of beach along the ocean's edge. It's not quite as scenic as Lemon Creek, but it's the next best thing, and the water is just as vast.

"This is it," Arthur announces with a little flourish of the hand to gesture behind him. "What do you think?"

Alfred gives the clean, sparkling crests of the ocean waves a long look and shrugs his shoulders. "I think it'll be good. It's going to take some getting used to though… Hey, is that Francis? I knew he'd be here."

Disbelieving, Arthur narrows his eyes and squints at the figure standing by the shore and frowns. It is Francis, and he's not sure if he's happy or upset that the man is here. Perhaps, it's a little of both. He didn't tell Alfred about their scuffle over the blood sample the other day, mostly because he doesn't want the boy's impression of the man to be ruined. He doesn't want to protect Francis, but he doesn't want to break Alfred's trust in him either.

"Hi, Francis!" Alfred shouts as Arthur wheels him down to the water with the help of the handy-dandy wagon. "How's it going? Where've you been lately?"

"Hello, my friend. I've been working on a new project. I'm sorry we haven't been able to speak much," Francis lies with a half-smile.

It's better like this, Arthur thinks. "Well, frog, are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me?"

Alfred cheers up at their bickering, and without further ado, Francis leans over and helps Arthur lift him out of the wagon and into the water, taking a deep breath of the crisp breeze.

"I guess this is it then," Alfred mutters.

"I guess so," Arthur agrees before gathering the courage to put a hand on the boy's head. "Be careful out there, okay?"

"Will you guys come and see me once in a while?"

Arthur shakes his head and his voice cracks as he says, "It would be too dangerous."

"Please?"

"We can't," Arthur insists, covering his eyes with a hand so he doesn't have to look at the boy's crestfallen expression for too long.

"But I thought we were friends."

"We are."

"So why can't—?"

This time, Francis cuts in with a more genuine smile. "Alfred, I will personally see to it that Arthur comes to see you at least once a week."

"Yay!" Alfred cheers.

"Wait, I didn't agree to—"

Francis stops Arthur by putting a firm hand on his shoulder and tells Alfred, "He doesn't know what's good for him sometimes. He'll come. Don't worry."

And as much as Arthur wants to argue that this is a horrible idea and that he would be endangering Alfred by doing such a thing, he can't say a word once he sees the joy beaming on the merman's face. A few trips every now and then wouldn't hurt, surely?

"One more thing before you guys go," Alfred requests. "Could I get a hug?"

Damn it. Why does he have to make this even more sentimental?

Begrudgingly, Arthur steps forward to initiate the group hug and Francis joins in. Alfred squeezes the two of them for a long time, and when he finally lets go, there's a feeling of loss in each of their stomachs that they can't quite quench.

"Goodbye, Francis."

"Goodbye, dear Alfred."

"Bye, Arthur. I'll see you soon, okay? Can you play some more music next time?"

Arthur downs the rock in his throat and nods. "Whatever you'd like. Goodbye, Alfred. Until next time."

Alfred returns the nod and lets out a deep sigh, shoulders hunched. He turns away, makes a movement to swim away, but then stops midway to splash Arthur with a torrent of saltwater one last time.

"Alfred!"

"See ya soon!"

Francis pushes down a laugh and leads Arthur away, one hand on his back. Slowly, they make the trek to the pier. "You were right. About everything. I'm sorry."

"I'm always right," Arthur huffs, looking away to hide the tears in his eyes.

"Oh, don't tell me you're crying. You? Arthur Kirkland? I never thought I'd witness this."

"Shut up. You're buying lunch today."

"Anything for you, mon cher. You know that."

And before the men make it any farther, Arthur takes the blood sample out of his bag and tosses it against the rocks poking out of the ocean, shattering the glass and letting the water wash it away.

Fortunately, the Frenchman doesn't comment on the tiny hitches of breath escaping Arthur on the drive back to the lab, nor the way he drags his feet and mopes for the rest of the day, nor how he drives back to the barrier island three days later to see the boy again.

It's the one secret he is willing to let the man keep, and it's a secret that's forever theirs.