Hello! For those of you that don't follow me on Tumblr, there's been quite an absence of my fics on here, and for that, I'm very sorry! I have been writing, quite a lot actually, but I've been posting all my fics on my Tumblr account and neglecting this one a little! I'm very sorry! If you would like to read more of my fics when I post them, rather than me forgetting to re-upload them here, definitely go check out my Tumblr which is on my profile for you! If you like this fic, Like and Reblog it on Tumblr as well~! All my fics are organised by pairing in the 'Fic Master Collection' link on my blog! Big smooches, and sorry for the delay in fics!

I'm chatting with the lovely hindre, and talking about Reincarnation AUs, and this little drabble happened in about five minutes, and I'm quite sorry! In which Alfred is immortal, and Matthew's been reincarnated over and over, and suddenly, all at once, he remembers everything from his past lives. I've had this planned for a long time, but never made anything of it for a longer fic, so have this short thing for now! Maybe I'll write the full fic one day soon? I'd certainly like to! Smooch smooch!


"They're coming!"

Alfred flinched at the shout, the scream that followed—the raw terror, the ache, the pain, and it flooded the old, dust filled room. It was their former bedroom, an old house occupied back in 1568 when Matthew had been alive—when the other Matthew had been alive, the one whose soul was now curled up on the cracked and creaking timber flooring, screaming over images only he could see, over sensations only he could feel that were mere phantoms to the American.

"No one's comin', Mattie… No one, they're dead and gone, no one is comin' for ya," he insisted, grasping at Matthew's shoulders gently, feeling the shake, the pulse of memories and vibrations that made his lover tremble so bad that it felt like he alone was suffering a great earthquake, "It was a long time ago, it's over now, it's all over."

"They are coming to kill you… I have to protect you… Have to leave, Alfred, please!" Matthew begged, violet eyes wide, pupils blown like there wasn't a fleck of light in their old room, tears rolling over cheeks, expression twisted with horror and an agony that made him clutch at his hair and yank, "Please! Alfred, I love you! Run!"

The old accent had Alfred's eyes glassing over, bright blue now wet and he choked on a sound of pain and despair, shaking his head. Matthew hadn't used that dialect in over four hundred years now. It was no longer his Matthew speaking, but at the same time, it was.

"You're dead," he whispered, calloused thumb brushing away tears, his own hand shaking, "They drowned ya in the lake. I'm sorry… You're dead, Mattie."

"They shall kill you, please, run! Do not wait for me, I am too slow!"

The words carved at Alfred's heart, being shouted as though they were real—and they were—as though they were happening in that moment—and they had happened—but hearing it twice was ripping him apart.

"Please come back to me, Mattie… Wake up… You've died- that's over, you're dead… So wake up to the Mattie I love now… Please… Just wake up," he begged, clutching tightly to the Canadian even as he screamed, feeling his torso jerk in his arms.

He remembered this, all too vividly. They'd shot him with an arrow then, the villagers. It only got worse from here, and Alfred steeled himself as Matthew's body shook hard and his soft voice let out another blood curdling scream.

"I'm here for ya now, Mattie… So please… Wake up. Wake up…!"