Alfred watched Arthur carefully as he led the Englishman to his car in the hospital parking lot. The hospital had offered to lend them a wheelchair, but Arthur was too proud. He wouldn't even let Alfred hold his hand as they crossed the street.

"You don't need to mollycoddle me," Arthur said with a roll of his eyes. "I feel fine."

"Come on, they drilled a hole in your head and stuck a band aid on it! I think I'm allowed to be a little worried," Alfred replied, pushing the button on his keychain to unlock the car doors. He waited until Arthur had buckled in before starting the ignition.

Even though he turned up the heat, the air in the car seemed a little chilly and Alfred wondered what he was doing wrong. The doctors agreed that spending time with familiar people might trigger memories, so that's why Alfred spent every waking hour in Arthur's presence. Sure enough, Arthur's memories from before the accident had begun to filter back, but Arthur was still acting strangely. He was more cautious, more suspicious, and more secretive. It made Alfred wonder if the accident had changed his personality in addition to damaging his memories.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye, Alfred watched Arthur fiddle with the radio station. The Englishman had some trouble with the technology, but managed to land on a golden oldies station playing a Glen Miller song from WW2. Alfred smiled to himself, amused that Arthur's taste in music was nearly as old-fashioned as his taste in plays.

"Here we are," Alfred announced as he parked in front of his apartment. "Don't expect too much. I have to pay for this on a schoolteacher's salary."

Arthur nodded absent-mindedly as he followed him through the front door. Alfred had cleaned up a bit before Arthur first arrived, but things had gotten cluttered again in the past few days. He hoped that Arthur didn't mind the pile of mail. Or the pile of dirty clothes. Or the pile of dishes. Geez, he had a lot of piles.

"Anything look familiar?" Alfred asked hopefully as he gave Arthur a quick tour of the apartment. The small living room and even tinier bedroom didn't draw a response, but the kitchen did. The Englishman's expression lit up when he spotted a box of tea on the kitchen counter. After listening to Arthur complain about the hospital's crappy tea, Alfred wasn't surprised to see his delight at the high-end tea. It had been pricey, but it was worth it to see Arthur's soft smile again.

"My favorite brand," Arthur murmured, smiling as he opened the box.

"Yeah, you grabbed it and the kettle at the grocery store after I suggested heating your water in the microwave," Alfred explained as he filled up his brand-new electric kettle. His grin widened when Arthur gave him a scandalized look.

"The microwave?!"

"You know, that's the exact same expression you wore the first time too."

"I should hope so," Arthur sniffed. He took a seat at the small kitchen table and pushed some of the mail to the side to make room for his mug. "A microwave, honestly."

"Hey, you don't date me for my tea-making skills," Alfred teased as he waited for the water to finish boiling.

"Oh?" Arthur smirked. "What do I date you for?"

"I think you know the answer to that one, but I can show you tonight if you want," Alfred offered as he filled Arthur's mug with boiling water. He winked and took the only other seat at the kitchen table. They sat close enough to bump knees underneath the small table.

"Well... perhaps." Although Arthur tried to look dignified as he waited for his tea to cool, his red cheeks betrayed him.

Alfred grinned. This was the Arthur he remembered. The one who used sarcastic quips as a defense mechanism, like prickly thorns on a blushing pink rose. The one who brought warmth and comfort with his simple presence. The one who made him feel like he had regained a lost part of himself. Alfred shook his head fondly. "You're still you."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Who else would I be?"

"I dunno. You thought you were William Shakespeare for a while there."

"What?" Arthur blanched and his eyes widened. His hand shook as he lowered his cup to the table. Swaying backward in his chair, he looked like he might faint.

Shocked by Arthur's sudden pallor, Alfred leapt out of his chair and crossed to Arthur's side of the table. He reached out to grab Arthur's shoulders and hold him steady. Biting his lip, Alfred leaned in close to examine Arthur's pale face. "What's wrong? You need to go back to the hospital?"

"No!" Arthur snapped. He took a deep breath. "I'm fine."

"Well you look like shit."

"I'm fine. Please, Alfred, I'm fine."

Alfred bit his lip. "If you're sure..."

"I am. I'm also guessing I don't date you for your bedside manner," Arthur grumbled as some of his usual color returned to his cheeks.

Considering that sarcasm seemed to be Arthur's default emotion, Alfred took it as a good sign. He leaned against the counter and gazed down at Arthur with a fond smile. "I have a fan-fucking-tastic bedside manner," he insisted.

Arthur snorted on the last of his tea and actually giggled. "That's not what I meant," he replied with a sly smile. "I wonder if your mind is always this dirty."

"Nope! You must have rubbed off on me."

"And rubbed other things I would imagine," Arthur teased.

"Hah! Is 'thing' some of your fancy Shakespearean lingo?"

The Englishman's eyes brightened and he smirked. "You know, it actually is. The saying that 'you can't have too much of a good thing' comes from As You Like It, when Rosalind suggests that she would happily take Orlando twenty times over..."

Alfred laughed and tried to interrupt the scholarly spiel. "Arthur."

"And 'nothing' is slang for a vagina so Much Ado About Nothing is a play on..."

"Arthur!"

The other man blinked and glanced up at Alfred in surprise. "What?"

"God, you're so adorable when you geek out over history," he said, leaning in with a smile at the way Arthur blushed in response. Clearly expecting a kiss, Arthur closed his eyes and tilted his head.

Alfred surprised him by scooping him out of the chair instead. Arthur's eyes flew open and he yelped in surprise at being carried bridal style. By the time they crossed the short distance to the bedroom, he had recovered enough to wrap his arms around Alfred's neck and pull him down into a lingering kiss. It felt warm and wonderful, far better than the kisses they had shared in the hospital's sterile air.

As Alfred lowered him to the bed, a frown crossed Arthur's face. "Wait... this reminds me of something," he said with a bewildered tone. After a moment's pause his eyes widened. "You sedated me with trickery!"

"Hey, you remember!" Alfred cried happily. His cheerful grin didn't falter until he saw the annoyed look on Arthur's face. "Uh... oops. Sorry, I thought it was better than having the psychologist call you crazy."

"That was probably for the best," Arthur replied, his eyes a little lost and worried. "I'm not crazy, you know. I just wish I could remember everything."

"Hey." Alfred crawled into bed and pulled him into a hug. "It's gonna be okay," he promised as he rubbed soothing circles on Arthur's back and relaxed with him on the cozy bed. It was still a little early, but he didn't mind making an early night of it if it meant cuddling with Arthur. Alfred had been a touchy-feely person in all of his lives, but with Arthur the feeling was much stronger. At first he thought it was a strong sexual attraction. Now he wondered if it wasn't something deeper. Was there a reason why Arthur looked so much like Edward? Even though the two Englishmen weren't related, was there some other connection?

While questions continued to swirl in Alfred's mind, Arthur closed his eyes contentedly and rested his head on Alfred's shoulder. "It feels better when I'm with you," he murmured, unconsciously echoing Alfred's thoughts.

Alfred took a deep breath and decided to take a chance. "I hope this doesn't sound crazy, but... do you believe in soul mates?"

"I do," Arthur replied without hesitation. He caught Alfred's gaze and smiled at Alfred's look of surprise. "There is more between Heaven and Earth..."

"Yeah," Alfred agreed. He felt a warm swell of affection as Arthur clasped his hand and cuddled closer. There was so much he didn't understand about his many lives, but of all the surprises he had faced over the years, Arthur was certainly the most pleasant.

Lost in deep thoughts, it took Alfred a few minutes to notice when Arthur began to snore. Alfred smiled and tucked the sheets around him. He curled up by the Englishman's side, hoping to sleep and perchance to dream.

Alfred saw a dim light flare red in the fog. Curious, he made his way past rows and rows of tents watching the light move back and forth in a gentle motion. The fog was so thick it took him several steps to realize that it was just an English soldier smoking a cigarette. With his choppy blond hair and bright green eyes, the handsome man immediately caught Alfred's attention. He couldn't stop staring at the lithe figure no matter how much he tried. Something about him felt so familiar.

The Englishman glanced up at Alfred, giving him an equally appraising look. "Fag?" he asked with a knowing smirk.

Alfred gaped in shock. "How did you...?"

"Here." The man offered him a cigarette and Alfred flushed red as he remembered what one of his chums had explained about English lingo. He let the Englishman light the cigarette for him and nearly hacked up a lung when he inhaled the smoke.

"Thanks," Alfred said between coughs.

"What's your name, lad?"

"Theodore. My friends call me Theo."

"What's your girl back home call you?"

"Don't know. Don't got one," Alfred admitted.

Time raced around them. The tendrils of fog began to dissipate, revealing a war-torn town. Alfred chased after the English soldier as they raced through the streets, trying to liberate the port from the Germans. As the fighting grew more intense, the Englishman pulled him behind a wall to shield them from the bullets. He leaned in to give Alfred a passionate kiss. Before Alfred had a chance to react, the English soldier had jumped to his feet and dashed back into the fight, leaving the American in his dust.

Alfred desperately tried to follow his lover through the fight, but it felt like he was trying to run through quicksand. Each foot was as heavy as lead. Fear filled him when he saw the English soldier disappear from his sight. Alfred knew instinctively that he would never see him again unless he could catch up. He fought to move forward, straining like he was pulling his legs through molasses. His legs refused to move, trapping him in desperate sorrow. The dust clouds surrounded him and the ground swallowed him into darkness.

He reached out his hand and screamed for Edward to come back.

Alfred woke up in a cold sweat. He reached for the other side of the bed and panicked when he found it empty.

"Arthur? You already up?" he called, hoping that Arthur was just an early riser. As he climbed out of bed, the dim light peeking the blinds told him that it was a little after dawn. Alfred pulled on his slippers and searched his apartment. Arthur's coat was gone, and so were his shoes.

He tried calling Arthur's phone, only to discover that it was still sitting in the bedroom next to his suitcase.

Alfred frowned at the useless phone. "Shit," he muttered.

Even though he had no idea where Arthur could have gone, he laced up his running shoes and dashed out of his apartment. Alfred jogged along the sidewalk, swiveling his head left and right as he searched for a familiar blond in a camel peacoat. But all he saw were a few early morning joggers and a couple of people with dogs that needed to pee. It was cold enough that everyone's breath created small clouds of white mist in the morning air.

With the disturbing dream fresh in his mind, Alfred worried for his missing Englishman. A thousand awful possibilities raced through his thoughts. Arthur could have collapsed somewhere. He could have gotten lost. Even worse, he might have been mugged or hurt in another car accident. Without his cell phone, Arthur wouldn't be able to call for help and there would be no clue to help the hospital find Alfred.

As he thought about the car accident, another possibility occurred to Alfred. Arthur might have gone back to the scene of the accident in the hopes of triggering more memories.

Alfred took the next left and picked up the pace. He breathlessly apologized as he dodged around a woman with a yapping spaniel. By the time he reached the empty intersection, he was gasping for air. Alfred leaned forward to catch his breath and despaired that he would never find Arthur. Feeling utterly helpless, he considered heading back to his apartment and hoping that Arthur would return soon.

Remembering that there was a park just a few blocks away, Alfred decided to search one more place. He jogged over to the small green space and nearly burst with relief when he spotted a slim blond seated on a bench, partially hidden by a large evergreen.

"Arthur!" he called excitedly. He grinned widely in response to Arthur's perplexed look and took the spot next to him on the bench, grateful for a chance to rest his legs.

"I thought you'd still be asleep at this hour," Arthur said.

"I was. But I couldn't sleep once I realized you were gone." He gave Arthur a stern look. "You shouldn't leave without your phone, ya know."

The Englishman snorted. "What did I say about mollycoddling?"

"I was worried!"

"Well, there's nothing to worry about," Arthur promised. A flicker of a strange emotion crossed his face. "I'm sure I'll always find my way back to you."

They sat in thoughtful silence as Alfred wondered if Arthur was referring to their shared belief in soul mates. As much as he hoped that he could find Arthur again, he knew from his experience as Theodore how hard in could be to find another person in such a large world. He sighed and broke the silence. "What were you even doing up so early?"

Arthur shrugged. "I find it easiest to think outside."

"Something on your mind?"

"This and that." Arthur stared at the ground. "This might seem a rather morbid request... but if something were to happen to me, would you visit my grave each year on Remembrance Sunday?"

"Uh, yeah. I can do that. But only if you promise to do the same."

"I will." Arthur quirked his lips as he turned his head to look at Alfred. "You know, our whole relationship is surprisingly graveyard-based."

"That's not true! It's at least 50% amazing sex."

"Only half?" Arthur replied with mock offense.

"Well... we could go back to my nice warm bed and increase the ratio," Alfred suggested. It was way too early in the morning and he was tired of sitting on a cold wooden bench. He reached for Arthur's hand and pulled the Englishman to his feet. They held hands on the way back to his apartment, sharing a small connection of warmth and affection. From his grasp of Arthur's fingers, Alfred could feel the other man shiver as they walked past the scene of the hit-and-run. He couldn't blame him. Alfred had experienced fourth deaths, and none of them were pleasant.

"Do you remember it now?" he asked out of curiosity.

Arthur nodded. "Mostly. The accident itself is still a bit of a blur, but I remember our argument beforehand."

"Oh." Alfred continued swinging their clasped hands back and forth as they strolled back to his apartment. "Yeah, about that..."

"I'm sorry I let you think that I was Edward's grandson."

"Um." Alfred felt his cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. He had been planning to confess his own deception, but he hadn't expected it to come up so quickly. He cleared his throat. "Uh, it's okay. Theodore wasn't my grandpa either."

"What?" Arthur stopped and gawked at him. "And you had the audacity to be angry at me?" he demanded. He pulled his hand out of Alfred's grasp and continued forward with a brisk stride, leaving Alfred in his dust.

"Wait!" the American begged, jogging to catch up. "I'm sorry! I had a good reason."

"This better be worth it." Arthur favored him with a disbelieving look, but he didn't slow down. A few more blocks and he would be back to Alfred's apartment, and this time he was going to leave for good.

Alfred began to panic. He hadn't meant to blurt out his apology, but he just couldn't bear to watch Arthur leave him. This was the reason he had never managed to keep a serious relationship. He hated to feel like he was keeping secrets, but his lovers never believed him when he told the truth. He took a deep breath and hoped that Arthur wouldn't try to send him to the psyche ward. "I was Theodore in a past life."

That statement finally made Arthur stop and turn around, his eyes wide in disbelief. "Oh, my god," he murmured.

"I'm not crazy," Alfred protested.

"It all makes sense now!"

Alfred blinked. "...huh?"

"You, me, everything!" Arthur said with an excited shout. He pulled Alfred into a kiss and then tugged him back to his apartment by the hand. "You know," he said conversationally, "when I thought I was going to die, I knew in sixteen years' time I would find you again and make you fall in love with a green-eyed exchange student."

"What?" Despite his confusion, Alfred felt a warm sense of relief. Sure, maybe Arthur was acting a bit crazy, but they could both be crazy together for the rest of their lives.

Arthur began to pepper him with questions as soon as they stepped into the warm apartment and closed the door behind them. "So... you're nineteen? Born the day after Theodore died?"

"How did you... did you look at my driver's license?" Alfred demanded, his voice filled with confusion as he followed Arthur to the kitchen, where the Englishman had started to heat up some water for his morning cup of tea.

"Rather young to be a teacher, I suppose, but it's easy to finish your education when you've already learned it several times before."

Feeling his knees go weak, Alfred sank into one of the kitchen chairs. He needed a cup of coffee to kickstart his brain because there was something huge just outside of his grasp. The idea was too much to comprehend. Arthur believed him. Even more incredibly, he understood what it was like to live each new life with the memories of the past.

Arthur gave him a gentle smile, his eyes bright with excitement. "I am satisfied with the cause in which I have engaged. My only regret is that I have not more lives than one to offer in its service."

It was a good thing Alfred wasn't holding a cup of coffee. He would have dropped it and spilled the hot drink across his floor. A wave of emotions—shock, joy, astonishment, delight—crashed through his body. He recognized the words as his final words from his first life. But there was only one way Arthur could know them too. "You were there?"

"Indeed." Arthur nodded. "I remember it clearly because I said something similar myself a millennium ago at the Battle of Brunanburh."

Alfred looked into those sparkling green eyes and saw the accumulated joys and sorrows of many lives. "You died in battle and you were born again as someone new," he guessed. When Arthur nodded, he continued, "The memories slowly seeped back and by puberty, you remembered everything from all of your past lives." Alfred's eyes widened with realization. "That's how you transferred Edward's wealth."

"It was much easier than when I buried treasure as a pirate."

"My god," Alfred gasped. "I thought I was the only one!"

Arthur smiled ruefully. "So did I."

Their happy reunion was briefly interrupted by the water heater as it reached a roiling boil and clicked off. Arthur paused to prepare his cup of tea, giving Alfred some time to process his rush of powerful emotions.

"You were William Shakespeare," he guessed.

"Correct." Arthur smiled as he added milk to his cup. "He was my most famous life."

"And Arthur Conan Doyle?"

"Was Scottish. I've been English all of my lives."

"Same here. I mean, I've always been American. I wandered the whole country my second life, trying to figure out what it meant," Alfred said nostalgically, remembering the life of an itinerant preacher who liked to plant apple trees. "The tribes never bothered me. They told me that I was touched by the Great Spirit."

A thoughtful look crossed Arthur's face as he sat down with his cup of tea. "Interesting. I've always believed that the land accepted my offer of eternal service."

Alfred felt a knot of stress leave his shoulders. He didn't have to worry about keeping his secret anymore. He didn't have to worry about being alone. He leaned forward and cupped his chin in his hands. "Do you think there are others?"

"I've often wondered. We should search for them."

"Yeah." Alfred nodded. "But first, I want to know everything about you."

"Just Arthur or...?"

"Everyone."

"That might take some time," Arthur warned.

"That's okay." Alfred reached across the table for his hand and smiled. "We've got all the time in the world."

Epilogue

Eighty years later, a young American with a dark Californian tan stood on a grave and shivered. It was cold outside and he never got used to the feeling of standing on his own grave. He set a poppy next to the marker and waited. After a few minutes, he lifted his head again when he heard the crunch of leaves behind him. He turned around to see a young man approaching with a rose.

He smiled and waved. "Heyla, babe!"

"It's good to see you again, dearheart," a lightly accented and amused voice replied. They both took a moment to check out the other man. The Englishman smiled and leaned in for a kiss, drawing a few stares from the others in the cemetery.

"So... you looking forward to being the younger one this time?" the American asked.

The Englishman snorted. "I'll always be older than you, you know."

"Yeah. You're such a cradle robber." The American tilted his head to the side. "Also a bit of a grave robber, when you think about it."

"Oh, hush! One of these times I'm going to find you as a child and raise you with some decent manners."

"Pfft. You wouldn't dare. That would make the sex super awkward."

"Speaking of which...?"

"Already booked a hotel room. Come on, babe, I've waited twenty years for you."

They clasped hands, leaving the grave behind without a backward glance. From death, there was life. From life, there was love, And in love, they found happiness.

Author's Notes

Hah, you thought I wouldn't kill off Arthur! But I totally did. Heck, I killed both of them. Ssh, this definitely counts ;)

As many of you noticed, this story is inspired by Iggycat's Star-Crossed. I chose a different mechanism for reincarnation, but many thanks to Iggycat for the basic idea! She is the queen of AU ideas.

Historical Notes

A few historical details to fill in the gaps: I was totally ready to make Arthur Ignatius Conan Doyle one of Arthur's past lives but it turns out he's the wrong nationality! Nathan Hale worked well as Alfred, though. He was a blond, blue-eyed schoolteacher who was executed for spying at the age of 21. As he alludes here, his second life was spent as John Chapman a.k.a. Johnny Appleseed. (The actual birth dates are two years off, but please ignore the discrepancy. In my AU, Johnny Appleseed was born after Nathan Hale died.)

Blulious's Questions

Blulious asked a few questions. Most are answered in the story itself, but I wanted to lay them out in case anything is unclear:

1. Do nations reincarnate from birth or do they possess the closest corpse/person?
From birth.

2. Can they sense other nations?
They sense that the other person is familiar and special. For Alfred and Arthur, they thought the tingling nation-sense was part of their strong sexual attraction.

3. Is the government involved?
Nope. The NSA reads Alfred's texts, but they just think he's crazy :)

4. How fast do they reincarnate? A minute? A day?
A day.

5. How old are they? When did they start reincarnating?
With all of his lives counted together, Alfred is 259. His first death (as Nathan Hale) occurred in 1776. Arthur is 1107 years old. He first died in 937 C.E. in a battle that united England under King Æthelstan.

6. Do they only have relations with men?
Nope. They're both bisexual.

Thank you!

Thanks to everyone for your follows, faves, and reviews! They brighten my day and encourage me to keep writing. As always, special thanks to Fire Bear1 for spotting my many, many typos. This story wasn't quite what I wanted it to be, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway!