The car ride to the airport went pretty smoothly, as did checking in his bags and going through security at the airport. All was going according to plan. Not a thing to worry about.

After chowing down on a quick meal of a salted pretzel and some black coffee, Alfred took notice of the time. It was nearly eight o'clock, but he still had time for a quick stop at the restroom.

Once he had finished his business, he went over to the sink and began to wash his hands, using the pink antibacterial soap that the soap dispenser had. As he cleaned his hands, he gazed at his reflection, making sure that everything was still in place. His cowlick stood up, as always, remaining prominent. He smiled to himself.

The mirror began to cloud up and a moment later, the rest of his surroundings disappeared in a thick gray mist. He remained still, not sure what was going on. A warm pair of hands gently grab him from behind, wrapping around his waist. He felt hot breath against his neck.

"Alfred..." a familiar voice whispered sweetly into his ear. "My Alfred..."

The lips moved to brush against the back of his neck. A shock like electricity coursed through him. The boy tried to turn around to face who had been embracing him. As he did so, the mist came crashing down around him and he was back in the bathroom at the airport.

"Flight 473 to London is now boarding," he heard one the flight attendants call over the intercom.

Although shaken from whatever had just happened, the boy was snapped back when he heard the announcement.

"Shit!" he cried.

Quickly, he grabbed a handful of paper towels and dried his hands off, before he exited the bathroom and ran towards his gate.

…

The man paid close attention to the mirror before him. Reflected on the surface of the glass was the image of the one whom he had sought. He watched the young man, a certain Alfred F. Jones, situate himself in one of the seats of the flying machine. The boy immediately plugged in his headphones and attempted to sleep, listening to his favorite tunes on his iPod.

The man gazed down at the image of the boy.

"Soon, very soon, my love," he spoke to the mirror. "Sleep well."

He rubbed a finger across the surface of the mirror before the image disappeared.

The man stood up. He still had much work to do in preparing for his guest.

…

The landing of the plane awoke the American from his slumber. He had only gotten a little bit of sleep on the plane due to all noise and motion of the plane. The buds of his headphones were still in his ear and the iPod had so much more music in it that it could play for him. The boy took his headphones out of his ears and wrapped them around the electronic, before stowing them away in his pants pocket.

He then unbuckled himself, before standing up and stretching. People in the rows before him began to unload the plane and soon enough it was his turn. After walking off of the plane, he started to make his way his towards the baggage claim.

After making it out of the gate, he saw a oriental man with choppy brown hair standing near the escalator that led down to the baggage claim. In the man's hands was a simple sign that read Alfred F. Jones in the same handwriting as the invitation that Alfred had received. His feeling had been right. Kirkland did know that he was coming, but as to how, Alfred wasn't quite sure. But that didn't matter.

The boy walked over to the man.

"Mr. Jones, I presume," the man spoke, his voice having a hint of an accent. Alfred placed the accent as some form of Asian. He then saw a pin of the flag of the British-Chinese colony of Hong Kong on the lapel of the butler's suit, which supported his placing of the accent.

"Ah, yes," Alfred replied.

"Come. We must not keep Lord Kirkland waiting," he said. "Let us get your baggage and go."

"Sure," the boy went along with it.

He followed the man down to the baggage claim. So, he was being employed by a lord. Alfred tugged at his tie, hoping that he was dressed properly to be seeing a lord.

As he thought this, his saw his duffel bag come around the carousel. He grabbed the bag off of the moving belt and went back over to his escort.

"Is that all?" the butler asked him.

Alfred nodded.

"Very well then. This way, if we may." He gestured towards the exit.

The pair of them walked out of the airport. It was rather cold out that evening, a sign that winter was well on its way.

The butler led him to a black car. The car was a classic style and in impeccable condition. Alfred couldn't quite place the year, make, or model of the car, but even he knew that such a car had to be very expensive. Either way, the luxury vehicle was a sign of Kirkland's immense status and wealth in British society.

The Hong Kongnese man opened up the truck of the antique car. He took the duffel from Alfred and placed it in the trunk. He closed the trunk and then opened the door to the backseat for the boy. Alfred slid into the car. The butler closed his door before walking over to the front seat and getting in. After turning on the ignition, they made their way out of the bustling city towards the English country side.

Alfred gazed at the city as they drove through it. London in all its glory was lit up for the evening. Women and men clutched on to each other, beginning a wonderful night in the city.

Soon enough the spectacle of London was behind them. Now it was somewhat dark, revealing the moon and stars that were illuminated in the pitch black sky. The occasional street lamp provided some light for those on the road.

The young man sat back in his leather seat. He fiddled with his iPod before popping his headphones back in. As he listened to his music, he gazed at the scenery around him, not seeing much in the darkness.

He sighed, hoping that they would arrive at Kirkland's home soon. His stomach was craving food and he was exhausted from his plane ride.

…

"Sir? Mr. Jones?" a voice called, snapping the boy out of his light sleep during the car ride.

Despite the fact that he was plugged in, he could still here the Hong Kongnese butler.

Alfred took his headphones out of his ears again and looked up to see the butler before him, the door to the backseat open.

"We are here," the butler told him.

He moved out of the way. Alfred stepped out of the car, holding onto his iPod and headphones. His eyes widened upon seeing the vast estate.

The mansion was of a Tudor style of architecture. It was made with cream colored bricks as the main body of the home. Burgundy bricks drew attention to the edges, windows, and main doorway. The roof was a neutral medium brown that provided the mansion with a homey feel. Rose bushes brought attention to the front of the estate. A cobblestone path led one to the front door.

The boy stood there, taking it all in. The sense of familiarity that he felt was overwhelming.

A warm hand clutched gently on to the tiny hand of the little boy. Emerald eyes gazed down at the boy gently. The boy and his new guardian approached the mansion, hand in hand.

"And this Alfred, is where you will be living for now on. Alright?" a kind voice spoke.

"Mr. Jones?" the butler spoke, once more shaking Alfred back to his senses.

"Ah, yes?" the American said.

"You had best go inside. Lord Kirkland is waiting for you," he said. "I will deliver your things to you room."

"Yeah. Thank you," Alfred replied. He handed the butler his iPod. "If you wouldn't mind also putting that in my room. You can just stuff in one of the pockets of my bag."

The Hong Kongnese man nodded and took the electronic from him.

"Of course, sir," was his reply.

"Say, what is your name?" Alfred felt the need to ask.

The butler looked at him in a surprise before answering him with: "My name is of no importance. Now you had best get inside. You mustn't keep the Lord waiting."

"Okay. If you say so. Thanks very much."

The butler bowed. Alfred walked away from the butler and up the cobblestone path towards the front door.

The front door was made out of fine cherry wood, though Alfred merely saw it as some form of finely polished wood. Silver knockers in the shape of unicorns were fitted on the door. The American carefully used one of the knockers to knock on the door. A moment later the door creaked open, allowing him inside. No one was at the door, which surprised the boy.

"Hello?" he called into dark mansion.

Before he could do anything else, something pulled him into the mansion. The door slammed behind him. Alfred then found himself speeding down the main hallway of the estate, torches on the walls lighting up as he passed them by.

Soon enough he was in front of another wooden door, which opened up as he sped down the hall towards it. A chair pulled out from under a magnificent rose wood table. The force directed him at the chair and soon enough the boy found himself seated in it. The chair, out of its own accord, also pushed him in.

Alfred was unsure about what had happened, not sure what it was that had brought him into the mansion, whether it was a ghost, an alien, or some other form of strange phenomena.

The young man took a good look around the dining room. A portrait was hung in the middle of the room. He couldn't quite see who the portrait was of due to the dim light, but he was certain that it was someone special, perhaps a member of Kirkland's family or the lord himself. The rose wood table was set with plates of warm food, a freshly cooked meal. Although Alfred was not sure what some of the meal was supposed to be due to it being burnt beyond recognition, he was certain that food would taste just fine.

As he eyed the portrait, attempting to make out who it was, someone else entered the room. The man who entered was handsome, Alfred had to admit that. The man's emerald eyes gently gazed at him from beneath a crop of golden hair and bushy eyebrows. He wore a tailored forest green suit. A silky white cravat swallowed most of his pale neck. A pair of black gloves completely the outfit. The man was the image of a perfect gentleman.

"All he needs is a top hat," Alfred thought to himself.

The man looked at him, a kind look in his eyes. At that moment, Alfred found himself staring back at the gentleman, immediately drawn to him. The hazy figure in his dream seemed to become clear to him as he gazed at this man.

Alfred felt his heart begin to pound wildly and a tinge of a blush flushed his cheeks.

"Alfred F. Jones, at last," the gentleman spoke, his British accent like music to the boy's ears. "I have been waiting for your arrival for so long."

"Uh..." Alfred tried to form words, his thoughts completely blown out of the window as he continued to stare at the handsome man before him. It was as if he was somehow enchanted by this man.

The Brit smiled and walked to his seat. As he moved, the boy shook himself slightly from his enchantment at his new employer.

"Lord Kirkland," Alfred finally found some words to speak with.

Kirkland settled himself in his chair at the head of the table that was next to Alfred's seat.

"Please call me Arthur," he said. "I am looking forward to working with you. But let us not speak of work now. You must be hungry and tired from your travel. Let's eat some dinner and then I shall show you to your room. Tomorrow we will discuss your job. Does that sound good?"

The boy nodded.

They dug into their dinner, eating to their fill. Once the boy was stuffed, Arthur picked up a small candelabra and began to led Alfred through the maze of the mansion. Along the walls of the hallways, Alfred spotted more portraits whose faces were distorted by the dim light.

"This really is a big place," Alfred remarked.

"Yes," Arthur agreed. "It is a home that has many memories in it, both cherishable and burdensome. I suppose that it gives the house character and charm."

He stopped in front of the door to the room in which he would have Alfred live in during the course of his stay.

"Here we are. I hope that you enjoy," he said, opening the door for the boy.

Alfred walked inside. The bed was made with ocean blue comforters and pristine white pillows. A small wooden bookcase contained all manner of books. A cherry wood wardrobe served as storage for clothes. A vase of crimson roses was set on a small table beside a wash bin and water pitcher. A window in the room overlooked the prim gardens of the estate.

Deep within him, Alfred had strange feeling that he had been in this room before, yet he knew that that could not be possible for he had never been to this mansion, or England for that matter, until now.

"Sleep well," Arthur told him. "If you need anything my room is down the hall."

Alfred turned around to face his host. Arthur handed him the candelabra so that he could see around his room.

"Good evening then," the Brit excused himself.

"Good evening," the boy repeated.

Arthur closed the door on his way out. As he walked down the hallway to his own quarters, he couldn't help but smile brightly.

"Welcome back, love."

...

To be continued...