This Is Our Last Song

Eight- Even If That Is Your Happiness

Alfred rolled his head lazily to the side, fixing his gaze on the dusty old bookshelves, once used for holding vast amounts of knowledge, and now it was just for display. No one read the old pages anymore, but Alfred had memorized every last one from years upon years of doing nothing but reading and learning from them.

"America, are you even paying attention?" his boss snapped at him angrily. He moved to sit up straighter in his chair, appearing more attentive. He fiddled with a small necklace in his hands, imagining the pictures of his brother and his lover on each side of the inside of the light blue locket.

"Yes, sir," he replied, not bothering to try to hide the boredom in his voice.

"America, this is very important. These are our plans for the next five years, and it is imperative that..." Alfred let the other man's voice fade into the background. He had heard this same speech countless times before from the new elects every time they first met with him. He wasn't interested in listening to it again.

"Sir, with all due respect," he cut him off, "I've already heard this exact speech before. So if we could skip this and get to the point that would be great. I have meetings that I need to attend today."

His boss looked so afronted that it was all that Alfred could do not to laugh. "Boy, you've been around too many women in a position of power and it's made you disrespectful." He took a threatening step forward. "I think I'm just going to have to fix that." He brought his hand up, swinging it down and hitting the nation with the back of it.

Alfred's head whipped to the side, a familiar blankness filling his eyes. Another abusive boss. He hadn't had one of those in a very long time. And there wasn't anything that he could do about it while the man still had the approval of the people. Alfred glared up at him defiantly. "Do your worst. But bear in mind that anything you could do I've already done ten times worse. And as soon as you're without the power of the people I won't hesitate to return the favor."

"Are you trying to intimidate me?" his boss snarled, his tone dismissive. But Alfred noticed how he flinched and angled himself back just barely enough to catch. Noticed how the floorboards moved when his weight shifted. And most of all noticed how the look of self ritousness fell from his features. "Because it won't work. You have none of the power here."

"Oh, I'm sure," his words dripped with blatent sarcasm.

Another hit, harder than the last. He grit his teeth against it, but stayed quiet. "Now," his bost growled, "If you're done, we have plans that need to be discussed. We're ending this fighting soon enough. It's time to stop playing and start taking real action."

Alfred's heart fell and he felt cold. He swallowed thickly. "Ending the... fighting?"

"Yes. It's time that everyone was either with us or against us. No gray space, no neutrality. Join the New World Empire or face a fate of death." He smirked darkly, like an unruly child given permission to play with matches. "It's about time to move away from all of this talking bullshit that the women before me have kept up."

His boss looked at him pointedly, and he felt his protest die in his throat. This isn't what we want! a small voice inside of him screamed, trying to claw it's way out of him. This isn't going to help anything! We need to protect, not harm! He fought it back down, shifting his eyes to the floor, resigned. "Yes, sir."

His face stung.

-------

-Several More Weeks Pass-

Alfred woke from his dead sleep coughing. He brought his blanket up to cover his mouth and muffle the sound so he didn't wake anyone else in the rooms near his. When he pulled the thick fabric away again, he noticed dark spots on it.

He leaned over and turned on the small lamp next to the bed, grabbing his glasses and fumbling them onto his face blindly. He pulled the blanket up into the pool of yellow light to examine. "Strange," he whispered, touching the spot. It was dark red and damp, eerily resembling, "Blood?"

Alfred scrambled out of the bed, tossing the blanket aside and pulling on a pair of jeans and a black long-sleeved t-shirt, leaving behind his prized bomber jacket.

He emerged into the open night, dark green sky glowing faintly. Dust kicked up around him, sticking to his slightly damp skin. The wind was cold and it made him begin to shiver. His territories in the north weren't going to help him if there wasn't people up there to experience the chilling weather with him.

He began walking in the direction of the still-temporary medical area, looking for help, when he heard someone call his name.

"Oh, America, please come here." He recognized that voice. But no, no that wasn't possible. "Alfred?" It carried on the wind, drifting right past him. His skin prickled from more than just the cold.

"No," he whispered to it. "No, I won't. That's not possible. You're not real."

The voice laughed at him, and he shut his eyes tightly. "Alfred Franklin Jones, come here." It had lost its sweet, coaxing tone. Instead, it was now only a command, as though speaking to a dog and not a human being. Alfred whimpered against the use of his whole name, fighting the deeply-seeded, ancient magics pulling him to walk forward. It was a battle that he almost lost, taking a few steps into the wind and towards where the voice would be coming from.

"Good boy," he whispered. An invisible, icy hand brushed over his cheek and into his hair, then disappeared once again. A cold feeling settled in his stomach, and he almost threw up.

"No! I am not your pet!" he cried into the wind, backing up against the doors of the building he had just exited. "You are dead! I'm still alive! Just leave me alone."

"No, boy. You still belong to me. You always will."

Alfred grabbed his head in his hands, slouching against the rough side of the building for stability. He shook his head side to side, trying to rid his mind of the voice and the memories. And- oh god the memories.

He pulled at his hair and his head snapped up, gazing around wildly. "I have to block this out. He can't touch me anymore. I just gotta..." His eyes locked on the tall metal antenna, black outlined against the green. He took off at a sprint to the radio tower on the far end of the main building, past the almost-finished medical building. When he got to it, he began to climb, never slowing in his pace.

"If I can just-

Get-

Higher."

When he got as high as he dared, he turned himself around, facing out to the vast, empty lands, dotted every so often with a pod of civilization. He looped his arms around the metal beams, bent at the elbows, and leaned out. The wind whipped his bangs around his face and the dust stung his eyes, but he paid it no mind.

"Alfred..." he whispered once more, then echoed around in his head.

Tears tracked down his face, and he brought an arm up to wipe them away. His sleeve pulled away darker and damp.

Alfred took a shaky breath, and counted backwards from one hundred.

Ninety-nine...

Ninety-eight...

~*~*~
i apologize for the shortness of this one. the next one should be a bit longer.