The years passed at a snails pace. No matter how I tried to stay away, no matter what I did to try and save him, our story always ended the same. I watched him suffer, gasping for breath due to the mysterious sweating sickness. I held him in my arms when he suddenly collapsed after we finally managed to make it out of the fire at the burning of the infamous Globe Theatre. I watched the life drain from him as we were mistaken for enemies during the English Civil War, but nothing prepared me for the hell I still had left to endure.  

It was 1662 when he found me again, just as he always did. He was much more innocent than he had been in previous incarnations and it was odd to watch him come to terms with his sexuality right in front of me. I always tried to keep my distance, but I'd learned the harder I tried the more effort my Mitchell would put in. His name was Matthew in this life, but no matter how many times his name changed he would always hold one name in my heart.

It was the first life that I decided it was better to just give in and instead of running I accepted the fate that would eventually come and it was in this life that my love tried to stay away. I always hoped he'd be successful, that he'd realize the mistake that loving a man like me would bring him, but no.

I had relocated to the outskirts of London, like many immigrants of the time. It was busy and full of people, making it much easier to fade into the background.  My love, as it turns out, was the son of a blacksmith in the parish.

I'd acquired quite the mass of wealth, simply by wandering and looting things left behind.

There wasn't a lot that I cherished, but the wooden horse meant more to me than anything in this world and thieves and vagabonds were getting increasingly clever. Not that anyone would take such an invaluable thing, but I didn't want to take my chances.  I'd come close to losing it on more than one occasion, which is why I went to the smithy in the first place, to commission a box of sorts...   something akin to an iron safe. I just needed something to keep it protected.

The blacksmith, Matthew's father, had grown ill and so he was manning the forgery the day I came to make my request. He was quite the gentleman, and although I fought to keep my eyes from lingering too long, the subtle differences and the long hair held my attention. I knew he caught me on at least two occasions, but I would simply let my eyes slide back up to meet his.  Despite his flushed cheeks and the obvious discomfort at my presence, the conversation was rather easy between us and he began to relax. I paid for the box upfront before I left, dropping quite the weight of coin in a small bag onto a table when the man had his back towards me.  I quickly made my way out into the crowded streets once again and I smiled to myself at the mental image of that beautiful face when he opened that bag and realized just how much it held.

As the days passed I managed to stay away from the town, keeping myself busy in solitude as I always did.  I'd taken up many new hobbies to occupy my mind. Even the least talented can learn and acquire a skill they never would have in a short lifetime. I'd learned to draw... to paint....  I began to write down my thoughts and experiences if only so the passing years didn't slowly steal away the precious memories of my time with the original Mitchell.

It was while I was was writing that a knock to my door interrupted my melancholy musings.

It was him, just as I knew it would be.

"I apologize for the delay." He held out the metal box and I couldn't help but smile as I took it. It was expertly made and with far more detail than I'd imagined.  It was sturdy and large enough that it would hold the horse and a few other items, but small enough for easy transport.  It was perfect. The small key that belonged to the lock sat snugly in its keyhole.

"Your work is superb." I sat it down on the wooden table and looked back at the glittering eyes of the blacksmith's son.

"You were far too generous with your payment."

"It was more than worth it, I assure you."

He held out a satchel and I shook my head and used my own fingers to close his back around the thick fabric. "It is yours."

"It wouldn't be right."

"Then use it to create something for yourself;  A thank you for the wonderful work you've done."

He didn't seem to know what to say to that and I could see by the way he would stare and force his gaze away over and over that he didn't know what to make of me and my strange generosity.. or perhaps it was more, but it didn't matter.

Finally he gave a short nod and hurried away leaving me alone once again with my thoughts.

It was a few weeks later that I opened my door to find him again.  His hair was pulled back from his face in a low ponytail and his face was clear of dirt and soot.  His clothes looked rather new and I was glad that he was using a bit of that money for himself.

"I do not mean to disturb you, sir. I only wish to present you with a gift for your generosity."

He seemed nervous, yet eager at the same time... similar to a child presenting a gift to their parent or friend.

"Please, come inside."

He slowly crossed the threshold and I closed the door behind him.

I was just about to ask him about the health of his father, but his eagerness rushed his words.

"I know it isn't much, but I hope you will accept this gift on behalf of me and my family."

It was then I noticed the ornate sword in his hand. He removed the rapier from its sheath and held it up into the lantern light. I could tell he had made this weapon himself with his own hands. It was certainly worthy of a nobleman and I knew that he must have spent hours on it.  

I took it carefully from his hands and inspected it closely, letting my fingers get used to the shape of its handle and weight.

"This is a gorgeous weapon. You are a master of your art and I'm quite surprised you haven't found yourself in the King's employ."

He seemed pleased with my assessment and the deep blush at my words brought a smile to my own lips.

"You are kind. It was the least we could do after the incredible gift you gave my family. If there is ever anything you should need, please do not hesitate to ask. We are forever in your debt."

What he didn't tell me that night was that his father had been worse off than I had realized and the extra money I had provided had given his family the means to afford proper medicine for him and he'd since made a full recovery. Had I known that from the beginning things may have turned out differently, as I would have feared any affections to be the result of a misguided sense of duty or repayment, but I guess the influence of magic is bad enough and things happened exactly the way the sorcerer meant them to.

"Perhaps a sparring partner to test out this new beauty?"

He looked away in embarrassment.  "I am sorry, sir. I do not know how to use a sword. I only make them, not wield them."

"Well then, perhaps I could teach you."

He looked up at me. "You would-  I mean ... it isn't necessary. I have no use for a sword."

"It would be a great favor to me. I could use the practice, if it isn't too much bother."

He seemed conflicted and I realized I had been much too eager at the prospect of spending time with him.  "Forgive me. If it isn't something that you want- "

"It is!" His eyes widened as he realized just how fervent his exclamation had come across and adjusted the volume and tone of his voice accordingly. "I mean... it is. I just do not mean to be a burden. I am sure you are a busy man."

I laughed a bit at the statement. Busy... right.

"Quite the opposite in fact and like I said, it would be some much needed practice for me."

Only that face was able to reduce my insides to a quivering mess.  Only that man could light a fire inside of me without meaning to, leaving my skin tingling with want.

Only him.

"I do not have a sword, sir."

I simply smiled and retrieved a far less impressive sword I'd picked up in my travels. "Will this do?"

I could see the hesitation in his eyes even still, but there was a distinct excitement as well and his hands opened and closed at his sides as if wanting to wrap around the blade's handle.

"Yes sir."

--

He was, surprisingly, a rather slow learner.  Those hands were made for creating, not combat.

He was rather skittish at first, and I thought it was my personality, or maybe it was embarrassment for his lack of skill with a sword.  

It turned out that I was wrong.

We'd slowly built quite the friendship and instead of only spending our time sparring, we came to spend most of it talking.  As the months began to slip by, I began to take notice of his strange body language and the way he'd quickly avert his eyes when I would look at him.

He was confused, afraid even, but in those times who wouldn't be.

It was late one night when he'd shown up without his sword and we'd sat talking about mundane things. I was content listening to Matthew gossip about whatever was going on in the parish while I relayed the results of my eavesdropping when I visited the market.

I liked these talks, mostly I enjoyed the way the angles and shadows of his face would constantly change in the light from the flickering lanterns.

I was taken off guard when he posed his quiet question, eyes locked in on the floor.

"Do you fancy me?"

Well that was upfront and rather brave coming from him. I thought about my answer carefully.

"If I do.. I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable, at least it isn't my intent. I would never overstep my boundaries or force you into anything."

He chewed on his bottom lip, a trigger for me in any of his incarnations, but I was quite adept at keeping myself in check...  I'd had plenty of practice after all.

"I know that they say it's wrong, but I don't think I understand why. It is also wrong to lay with your siblings, but how else would Adam and Eve's children have created humanity?"

"I don't want to tell you that I have all the answers, but I do think that the church likes to manipulate things just a bit to suit their wants. That isn't to say that my opinion is truth."

"And what is your opinion." Those doe eyes held my gaze and I could feel his gravity pulling me in.

"For a God that preaches love and tolerance, I cannot imagine that he would condemn a love that is true, regardless of physical body."

He smiled a bit and turned away like a nervous school boy, cheeks gaining a deep blush.

"I think...   I believe that too."

---

The small conversation had huge effects and his demeanor began to change. He stood closer, stayed his gaze instead of trying to hide it.  

There was a new kind of energy between us, the air charged.

I'm pretty sure he was waiting for me to make the first move, but I wouldn't. I refused to push him into anything that I wasn't sure he was ready for. It was frustrating and definitely put my will to the test, but if anything were to happen, it would be on his terms.

It happened almost as I imagined it would.

We were saying our goodbyes after another night of drinks, stories and laughter.  His fingers lingered on the door handle and instead of leaving he turned back to face me.

I could see the conflict in his eyes but still he moved forward, taking a visible deep breath. His eyes locked on mine and when I didn't make a move to stop him he moved forward into my space.  He looked so unsure and I nearly chuckled as he swallowed and licked his lips.

His hands hovered over my chest, curling back nervously but then flattening as they made contact.

"Is this...alright?" He whispered.

"More than."

He surged onto his toes and his lips met mine for barely a moment before he sank back to his heels. His eyes were wide as he looked into mine, but he must have had a burst of courage as he lifted, slower this time, to meet our mouths lingering for a few seconds before coming down again.

I lifted my hands then, moving one close to his cheek.

"May I?"

His breath had begun to pick up pace and there was a quiet desperation in the whispered "Please." He responded with.

I held his face in my hand and lifted his chin to barely ghost a touch between us. He whimpered slightly as he leaned up to meet me, my other hand sliding to his lower back to support him.

It was nearly a minute before he pulled away, face burrowing between the hands twisted into my shirt.  

"I want to be with you." He mumbled into fabric, but I heard it and wrapped my arms around him.

"And I want to be with you."

He began to cry then, great sobs shaking his frame and I knew he was having a crisis of conscience. I held him, reassured him that he wasn't trapped in anything, that I would never put him in that position, but I knew it was a personal struggle, one he would have to overcome himself.

----

Weeks passed and slowly the little moments we shared became more intimate, always initiated by Matthew and always stopped when I could see him start to doubt things. More and more often he would beg me to let him continue, but until I knew he was ready, I wouldn't let him do something he would regret and in the end I know it was the right thing to do.

Then one night he surprised me.  I had gone to the tavern to blow off some steam and upon lighting the lanterns after I returned, I was greeted by a very naked Matthew waiting for me on my bed like an offering.

His eyes stared into mine and I knew my resistance was done for. There was no way I could say no to such a bold, brave call to attention.

Then he said those words, whispered them into the quiet and my heart swelled as I closed the distance between us, leaving all restraint behind.

I said them back and made sure he understood just how much I meant them before I let myself finally give in and indulge on the only body that I ever truly craved.

It was the first of many nights together, memories and contact that would have to sustain me in later years.

He was a tender lover, craving intimacy and close contact as opposed to the rougher, wilder preferences of previous incarnations. It was sweet and loving and I treasured every moment.  

...

We were barely into 1665 when I knew things were about to take a turn. Rumours of plague in the west had everyone worried and slowly people were beginning to take precautions. I tried to convince Matthew to leave with me, to beat the sickness before it could reach the parish and the walls of London.  He hesitated so I offered to bring his family with us. I could support us and when it was all clear again we could return. Still, he didn't truly believe it would spread that far.

He was wrong.

Reports of an elderly woman in the parish contracting the illness were soon confirmed and Matthew's father was dispatched to chain and lock the door, a red † painted to mark the infected.

One become two and soon three.

Another †....   and another ...  and another.

By spring all who could, mostly the wealthy, were leaving London in an attempt to flee the pestilence. I wanted Matthew and I to be among them.

Every day I pleaded with him, and every day he assured me he would be fine. The infected were quarantined and they needed his father to forge the locks to keep them isolated.

I wasn't convinced.  If even one of Matthew's family members became infected he would be locked away with them to await certain death. I didn't want to take that chance.

It took a break in strength, a moment of weakness, but my tears finally convinced Matthew that leaving would be the right thing.  I knew we would have to hide our true relationship from his family, but better to hide than be dead.

Unfortunately, his acceptance came too late.

By the time Matthew made it back home to gather his family and tell them that they were leaving, they were painting a red cross on his door. They only allowed him to remain outside the home, because they needed someone to forge the locks.

Instead of heading to the accommodations the parish clerk set aside for him, of course he ran to me. His father had been infected and his mother, brother and baby sister were all but lost as they were trapped inside as well. Sanitation in those days was non existent and locks don't keep out the fleas and rodents drawn to the stench of filth and rubbish. It was only a matter of time.  

For days he went back and forth, forging as many locks as he could while checking on his family. It took mere days for his father to succumb and the baby wasn't far behind. In just over a week he'd lost everything.

He didn't have anything to pack and I had been preparing for this for weeks. I wasn't going to wait for disease to steal him away from me again and we fled to a more isolated part of the countryside.  

I offered a farmer far more than it was worth, but he gave up his home at the first sight of gold. Once we were settled I focused on comforting the sensitive man who had just left behind everything he'd ever known.

It was a somber time. Even in the outlying lands the fear kept everyone isolated and wary, but months passed and still we survived. It was January of 1666 when reality came crashing down on me once more.

I had traveled into the next town to get provisions but the moment I came back, I knew something was wrong.

"Don't!" He called from across the room the moment I opened the door.

"Matthew, what-"

"Don't come any closer."

I froze, taking in the tears in his eyes and the hunch of his shoulders.  

"It's found me. You must go."

Of all the ways to die...  You go through the same cycle over and over, but somehow there is always a hope that something will change, that something will trigger an end to the cycle...   but no.  You can let yourself forget  and you can let yourself hope, but reality will always find you.

Just as it always found me.

"Matthew..."

"I don't want you to die." he sobbed out and I dismissed his protests as I quickly crossed the room to pull him into my arms. He screamed, yelled at me to get away, but his strength waned and he ended up a tear soaked mess against me.

I vowed not to leave his side and it would prove to be one of the hardest promises I've ever had to keep.

It was an unforgiving sickness and the memories of watching him go through it still haunt me, but I never left his side.

By the third day his skin had begun to blacken in patches, the tips of his fingers appearing as if he'd dipped them in black soot.  I tried to keep him as comfortable as I could, but his cries of pain ripped me in two as his skin began to decay.

It was horrifying. the kind of horrors from which nightmares are created

I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat...   all I could do was take care of him as much as I could.

It wasn't easy.

---

"Kill me."

I'd just brought in a fresh bucket of water from the well behind the house when I heard him and halted mid step. There was a change in his voice. Something was different...  i could hear it in my heart ... and the moment I looked into his tear filled eyes I could see it. My heart sank to my feet and the tears began to fall.

It was hard enough watching Matthew suffer, but knowing that he remembered again... that he was aware of himself and all that he'd gone through...

I knew death was more than likely still days away and I wasn't sure I could survive watching my Mitchell go through that.  It wasn't how things normally worked.  I usually had only minutes with him before the end.  He was usually only forced to endure mere minutes of pain, but there he was with who knew how much time left and forced to endure some of the worst kinds of agony.

"No...   no no no it's too soon."

I wet another cloth and put it to his head, trying to reign in the sobs that wanted out and the tears that i could no longer control.

"I know it's a selfish thing to ask. You've been through so much already." His voice was weak and my hand reached out to touch his face.  "I'd do it myself, but ... my hands..." 

I knew he was in excruciating pain and I knew it would only get worse, but I just wasn't ready to let go of him again. I just stared at his face... knowing that even in pain and sickness that he was still so beautiful to me.

"Please don't let me die like this... please, love." I could hear the pain this time, the struggle to not let out a cry as he shifted a certain way.

It took every bit of strength I had in me to move.  I clenched my teeth, setting my jaw as I forced my body to obey.  I kissed his forehead before moving away to retrieve the beautiful rapier he'd made for me years before. I stared at it, my chest aching for another alternative, but I knew there was none.

How in the world would I be able to do this? How... 

He was forced to endure this because of me. All of this pain and the neverending cycle of death was all because of me.

This was the least I could do for him... regardless of what it would do to me.

He gave me the sweetest smile and I had to cover my mouth to hold in a cry of anguish.

It took a moment to get my bearings and a few deep breaths before I could raise the sword to position the point right above his heart to make it as quick as possible.

"I love-" ... I pressed my lips together to try and hold it in just for a few more moments. "I love you to the moon and back." I looked into his eyes and tried to burn the weak smile into memory. "Forever."