"Mathew, are you okay?" Gilbert asked, breaking a long silence. They were all (minus Francis) sitting around a fire in the woods that belonged to a John Proctor. He had okayed that they stay in his land until they found a better place. Like building their own house. Mathew was furthest from the fire, sitting on a rock about 2 feet away from everyone else, who was as close to the fire as possible. He was huddling into himself, his arms wrapped around his legs and his eyes were looking at his knees. They looked almost dead and clouded over. After a while of complaining, Gilbert and Antonio allowed Arthur to cook dinner. Rabbit was roasting on the fire.

"Fine," Mathew grumbled

Gilbert sighed. "Is something wrong?"

"You should ask Alfred that," Mathew snapped.

Alfred took a deep breath to prevent himself from saying something that would get him in more trouble with Mathew. But that didn't stop him from thinking it, You're being such a child about it… He thought to himself.

"What did you do?" Antonio sighed Alfred.

"I am choosing not to say anything at this point," Alfred said, intent on staring at the fire and the rabbit burning. "Don't you think you should take those off the fire now?"

"What?" Arthur asked. "They aren't even fully cooked yet! You're not supposed to take them off the fire until they are fully black."

"No, you aren't," Gilbert and Antonio sighed in unison.

"You should have taken them out 10 minutes ago," Gilbert muttered. "I was waiting for you to notice."

"What?" Arthur gasped and picked up a piece of rabbit. He took a tentative bite of it. "It tastes fine to me."

"To you maybe," Antonio rolled his eyes. He leaned over and took his own piece of rabbit. He took one bite and nearly gagged. "I see your cooking skills have improved some since last time."

"What is that supposed to mean!" Arthur snapped.

"He means your cooking sucks ass," Gilbert said bluntly, taking his own bite of food.

Alfred dared to pick up his own piece of rabbit and try it. "I don't think it's half bad," Alfred said. "Still better than Abigail's cooking." Mathew snorted at that comment.

"Hey, speaking of her," Gilbert said. "What the hell was that today?"

"Si," Antonio said. "I would like to know about that as well."

"She's just a girl from my village," Alfred sighed. "She had this major crush on me and then drowned herself in the lake. Turns out she didn't die."

"So, that was a girl from your past?" Antonio asked.

"Sorta," Alfred took a bite of rabbit. "She's a little different now."

"More like a lot," Mathew interjected.

"Yeah…" Alfred rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. "You see, she used to be a shy little girl that did whatever any adult told her to do. And she would never dream of doing anything that was in any way risky. Like taking off with Francis. She hasn't been out in the real world for too much longer than me, from what I heard her say, and it seems to have changed her a lot more than it's changed me."

"And obviously you didn't know she's a witch," Arthur put in.

"Yeah, that's new," Alfred chuckled lightly. "And she's never openly kissed me before. Or kissed me at all, for that matter."

"So, did you get that feeling when she touched you?" Antonio asked. "Like you get with us?"

"Yes, and no," Alfred shrugged. "It felt familiar, but it was incredibly different. She's not like you guys at all. Her magic felt…odd."

"So that's why you didn't move when she kissed you?" Gilbert asked. "It didn't have anything to do with you might have enjoyed it?"

"No," Alfred and Arthur said together.

"Dear God, no," Alfred said. "I do not enjoy having someone else's tongue shoved down my throat like that, thank you very much."

"Plus you don't like women," Antonio offered.

"I guess?" Alfred shrugged.

"Must have been torture for you," Mathew said angrily, "eh, Alfred?"

"Look, Mathew!" Alfred stood up and walked over to his brother. "I'm sorry! Okay? I didn't mean for it to go that far and I am sorry! You don't need to act this way about that!"

"Well, according to you, I have barely experienced this world, so I can act as much of a child as I want to!" Mathew crossed his arms in front of him.

"I'm sorry that brought up bad memories for you," Alfred softened his voice. "And I want you to know that I care about you. I am sorry I brought that up before you were ready," Alfred stooped down so that he could go face to face with Mathew, who looked away. "You're my brother, dude. We need to look out for each other and I can't really do that when you're mad at me. You're supposed to be older than me, right? How about you act like it."

"We don't really know who's older," Mathew sighed, finally looking into Alfred's eyes. "Sorry… Truce?"

"Truce, man," Alfred put a hand on Mathew's shoulder and smiled at him.

"Cute," Gilbert sighed sarcastically as Alfred stood up and went to move back to his spot by the fire.

"Shut up," Alfred groaned. All of a sudden, he felt a pang in his head that made him stop dead in his tracks. He felt like all of his energy was being sapped out of him and he was about ready to fall over. He held onto his head.

"Alfred, what is-" Arthur began, but he clutched at his head, too, wincing in pain.

This head pain seemed to circle around those at the fire. It went to Antonio, then Mathew, then Gilbert.

"Shit…" Alfred muttered as his eye lids struggled to stay up. He tried to take a step, but his feet seemed to fall underneath him and he fell forward. His world went black just before he was about to slam onto the ground.

This was not a normal dream. That much was certain just as soon as Alfred opened his eyes. He was practically floating in a black abyss. He was floating diagonally and he tried to flail his arms when he realized where he was. But his arms wouldn't move.

"Gah!" he yelped out as his failed flailing made him turn upside down. At least he thought it was upside down. There was nothing to look at here and his clothes stayed in the same spot, no matter where he moved. "Where the hell am I!" he called out to nobody.

"Your mind," a familiar voice giggled out.

"Shit," Alfred's eyes went wide. "Shit, shit, shit. Not you, not now…"

"Awe," Abigail's voice giggled out again and she appeared in front of Alfred, almost like she was standing on an invisible floor. "Don't be scared, Alfie," she giggled as she walked calmly towards him. Alfred was apparently the right side up, and he tried to back away, but that only succeeded in sending him flying backwards, taking multiple flips. "You can calm down," Abigail sounded annoyed. "I can't hurt you…Physically."

"Wh-what are you going to do?" Alfred stuttered out as Abigail walked calmly over to him, grabbing hold of his chin to make sure he didn't go anywhere.

"Well, we've been away from each other for some time, Alfie," Abigail smiled. "I believe it's about time we got caught up. Don't you think, dear?"

"I am not your 'dear,'" Alfred said solemnly.

Abigail's eyes turn yellow, but they stayed that way this time. "Well then, who's 'dear' are you? Arthur's?" she stopped for a moment, and then she grinned an evil grin. "Or Ivan's?"

"How the hell do you know about Ivan?" Alfred tensed.

"He's very prominent in here," Abigail grinned, obviously happy to see how it was affecting Alfred. All of a sudden, images of Ivan took over the black abyss, flooding Alfred's vision, except for where Abigail was in the way. They were all different images, except the image of him with his head blown through appeared a lot more than others.

"So, did you kill him?" Abigail asked, leaning closer into Alfred, who tried to close his eyes tight to drown out his surroundings, but his eye lids wouldn't move. So he forced himself to look at Abigail. "No? Who was it then…Arthur? Interesting. So, who is Ivan? Why don't you tell me?"

"Sh-shut up," Alfred barely managed to get out of his mouth.

"I could figure it all out right now," Abigail smirked. "I could say everything he did to you, make you writhe and scream and not be able to move, like now. I could make you get lost in these pictures. But I'm just going to do this; you won't be able to wake up until you tell me. I will continue to tease you…maybe even go a little farther. I learned a few new things from Francis today. And you will not be able to look away from Ivan. So, how about you tell me?"

"Is your only intention to torture me?" Alfred asked her. He tried to move his arm, but he found that he couldn't. He tried to blink, he couldn't. He tried to move a finger, he couldn't. He didn't even breathe.

"Oh, Alfie," Abigail snickered. "I am not going to be torturing you, too much. You're the only one knocked out right now, so I could do this all day. My intentions are two very simple things. First one, I want you to feel the way I did when I had my heart ripped out of me that day. Second one, I want your power. It's always easier to tear power from a broken man."

"You should know, I've already felt my heart get ripped out of my chest," Alfred growled at her.

"Then you'll feel it again," Abigail grinned. "And again. And again. Until I get what I want. All I want now is for you to tell me who Ivan is, and you can have your dreams back. And then I might just let you wake up."

Alfred glared at her for a while before finally speaking. "I will not tell you who Ivan is."

"Fine, then," Abigail sighed. "I guess I'll start for you!" All of the images changed around them. They changed to Mathew, his face beaten and battered to a bloody pulp. They were all exactly alike and Alfred could see tears tracing down the side of Mathew's face.

"So, Ivan tortured Mattie, right?" she looked like she was enjoying this far more than she should have been. Alfred gulped and tried to close his eyes again. It didn't work. He was forced to stare at his brother. The picture changed so that he could see the rest of his brother's body. Every inch of him had scars that were seeping crimson blood. This picture moved. Alfred watched as Mathew tumbled to the floor into a bawling mess.

"You didn't get to see this, did you?" Abigail said, almost to herself. "A little token I had to take from Mathew himself. I filled in some of the gaps so that you could really see him. This was his first month… You didn't see that whole year of torture, just glimpses. He was punched with brass knuckles, he was cut by massive blades, he was even branded by searing hot coals." Mathew's sobbing continued from the pictures around Alfred. He desperately wanted to move his arms to cover his ears and close his eyes so he wouldn't have to look. But all he could do was let tears come from his eyes. "And, as you well know, he got whipped. All courtesy of Ivan."

Abigail looked at Alfred and moved her thumb to pick up a tear coming down Alfred's cheek. "Oh, dear, don't cry yet. We haven't even gotten the full story yet."

Mathew screamed in the background.

"S-stop…" Alfred muttered. "I-I don't need to see this."

"Well, you're gonna," Abigail frowned. "I'm trying to be cooperative here, Alfred. I could easily invade your privacy and show everything you've ever thought to you right here and right now. Or I could force you to tell me what I want to hear."

"You can't force me to say anything," Alfred spoke, sounding far more confident than he was. He winced as he looked up for a fraction of a second at Mathew's pictures. A liquid that looked like water was touching his open wounds, causing him to write in pain and scream. It obviously wasn't water.

"Oh, can't I?" Abigail raised an eyebrow.

Suddenly, Alfred blurted out, without his own control. "I love you, Abigail! I always have and I always will!" And then, in a fast motion in this dream, he cupped her face in his hands and began kissing her. This time, he was the one shoving his tongue in her mouth in a fever, which she gladly accepted. They kissed each other for a long time, longer than humanly possible. She was the one that eventually separated them.

"I could do this all night, honey," she said delicately, stroking Alfred's face. Alfred tried to speak, but his lips wouldn't move. "I could even reenact what has happened in the past. That might get you to talk to me."

The pictures suddenly all melted away to a stone room that Alfred recognized well. It had a bed on one side and a bookcase on the other, separated by a desk. There was a rug in the middle and there was a window. Behind Alfred was a door and now he was finally standing on solid ground. He was able to move again and he looked down at his clothes. He had on a deep red tunic with a shiny, gold belt buckle around his waist. He had black, tight fitting pants and brown boots. He was standing in the middle of the room, right on top of the rug.

He looked back up to Abigail and found her replaced by an Ivan with shining yellow eyes. Everything else was the spitting image of Ivan. The silver hair, the scarf, the childish smile, the coat. Ivan smiled, but Alfred spoke first. He didn't want to say it and he had no idea why he was saying it, but it just forced its way out of his mouth.

"We had a deal," Alfred seethed, just about ready to punch that smile off his face.

"Da," Ivan giggled. But it didn't sound like him. It sounded like some unholy mix of his voice and Abigail's. "But I did not promise anything."

"You dick!" Alfred yelled, he rocketed a fist forward, aiming for Ivan's face. But he caught it. He then pulled Alfred in close to him so Alfred was pressed against his chest. Alfred felt his face heat up. He knew where this was going and he did not want to relive this. But he couldn't speak, except for the parts he had already said in the past. Two months ago. This was going to be Hell.

"You said you would do anything I wanted, da?" Ivan asked, still having that strange voice.

"Get the hell off me!" Alfred screamed, pounding his fists against Ivan to try to let him go, to no avail.

"Make me," Ivan hummed and used his free hand to tilt Alfred's head up.

"I will k-" Alfred tried to threaten, but he was cut off by Ivan pressing his lips to his.

Alfred practically screamed, trying desperately to writhe out of Ivan's grip.

"You will do what?" Ivan asked after releasing his kiss.

"D-don't touch me!" Alfred jerked around relentlessly, trying to get away from the Ivan that wasn't really Ivan. Alfred had to keep thinking to himself, This is not Ivan. This is not real. This is not happening. That was the only thing Alfred was allowed to do by himself, think. But he listened and he could hear his thoughts ringing out throughout the room. Shit echoed loudly.

"We had a deal," Ivan said happily, it was starting to sound more and more like Abigail every second. Using one hand, he took off Alfred's belt and then dove his hand up underneath the shirt and up to caress his chest. "I believe I can touch you wherever I want, da?"

Alfred gritted his teeth and shivered as the cold hand traced up and down his entire chest. It eventually stopped at one of his nipples and playfully toyed with it.

"S-stop that!" Alfred yelled at him. Alfred tried to get away by walking backwards, but that only ended up with him pressed against the locked door. Ivan still had a tight grip on him. Alfred was beginning to lose his thought that this wasn't real. It sure as Hell felt like it was happening. And he was dreading what happened next.

The hand on his chest soon dove down, lifting up his pants and closed tightly around Alfred's member.

"Shit…" Alfred hissed, trying to back up more into the wall. He desperately tried to ignore the incredible feeling he got from that, but it was hard.

"You will be mine, da?" Ivan muttered happily as the door cracked open and Alfred tumbled into the arms of someone behind him. He had no time to look to see who it was when he heard thunder sound off and he saw smoke flow in front of his face.

He looked back to Ivan, but he had a gaping hole in his head as he fell to the floor with a thud.

"NO!" Alfred screamed, waking up to a dark forest. He launched himself up into a sitting position and those around him tried to calm him down by stroking him with his hands. Every time he was touched, he would jerk away, again screaming at them, "NO!" After backing himself up to a tree and not listening to the worried voices around him, he looked around in search of someone. Anyone.

All of the faces around him looked familiar, but his mind couldn't recognize them at this point. Then his eyes fell on Mathew. From Alfred's clouded, still dream induced, vision, all he could see was his face covered in dried blood, his hair matted and large chunks pulled out. His clothes were in shambles and he looked weak. Oh, so very weak.

Alfred immediately launched himself at Mathew, pulling him into the tightest hug he had ever given. "Mathew…" Alfred bawled out, not caring that tears were flowing out of his eyes at an alarming rate. "Shit, Mathew… What happened to you?"

Just want to make sure everyone knows, Mathew is fine, it's just Alfred is still thinking about what he was feeling at the time Ivan was in control of what was happening. So, he thinks Mathew is still being tortured.

I really like how this chapter turned out, to be honest. Even though most of it is a dream sequence, it still tells a lot about Alfred and Abigail.

Please review! Reviewing keeps a happy writer and a happy writer keeps giving you good writing!

Sealand is more likely to become a real country than I am to own Hetalia.