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Secrecy and Deception Chapter 35

Back to War (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Hey Ailbhe. It’s Saturday. Why are you posting a Secrecy and Deception Chapter?

Well, the answer to that is that I fucked up my scheduling and skipped this chapter when I planned it out. I realized it after I wrote One Small Step, about two weeks before this chapter was posted. And since it was 11 pm and I didn’t want to readjust my entire schedule, I decided to post it on a Saturday right after One Small Step. 

Happy February. 

Event: Kent State Massacre

Location: Kent State University, Kent, State of Ohio, United States of America

Date: May 4, 1970

Ohio really hadn’t meant to attend the protests at Kent State University. But with all the fuss his government was making about it, and with Ohio being decidedly anti-war himself, he decided that he should at least go and talk to the protestors in person.

Although he had done it in his human form. His National Guard was here, and Ohio hadn’t trusted them since he learned what Delaware’s National Guard did to him.

Ohio…Ohio didn’t want to deal with that.

He didn’t think they would treat him the way Delaware’s had, but you could never be too sure. 

After all, yesterday, his governor had given a speech in which he implied that Ohio might go under martial law due to the protests at Kent State University. 

Ohio was scared, especially because he supported the protestors. He hated the idea of extending the Vietnam War into Cambodia because he knew it was only going to end in more deaths. He hated the fact that the National Guard had been sent onto a college campus because they exercised their First Amendment rights.

The National Guard had bayoneted some students yesterday, for Christ’s sake. How was Ohio supposed to be on their side?

Ohio didn’t want his opinions to be taken from him because his governor didn’t like the protests. The protestors weren’t un-American. They were exercising their rights as Americans, and he was upset about that. 

So, just in case Ohio’s governor really did take away his free will, at least he got in a little bit of protesting. 

Ohio hadn’t taken his eyes off the National Guard since he arrived that morning, nervous about every movement they made.

They had already attacked some students for disobeying them, and there were way more students here than National Guard members. Ohio was afraid that something drastic would happen.

Peaceful protestors combined with armed guards from the opposing party never ended well.

Ohio knew it wouldn’t this time.

“You all need to disperse,” someone from the National Guard then shouted at Ohio and the protestors. Ohio gritted his teeth and walked forward. He certainly wasn’t on the side of the National Guard and thought their order was stupid, but he also didn’t want the tension turning into violence.

But before Ohio could get there, gunshots rang out, and Ohio dropped to the ground, years of experience screaming at him to get down before he was shot.

His hands began shaking, and he could almost smell the fuel, sweat, and blood of his plane, breaths coming out in short gasps.

It was like he was at war all over again.

As quickly as the bout of shell shock seemed to overtake him, it faded.

But Ohio could hear screaming, and he knew those gunshots had been real.

Ohio tried to stand, feeling dazed and confused, as he stumbled over to where the guard had been yelling. But before he could, someone grabbed his arm and gently helped Ohio sit back down.

Ohio hadn’t realized his legs were shaking.

“You got back from Vietnam recently, didn’t you?” a gentle voice asked. Ohio looked up to see it belonged to a woman, someone who must have been a student on campus. Ohio almost shook his head before remembering he was too young to have fought in the Second World War and nodded. 

“I thought I was at war again,” Ohio said as he tried to shake himself out of the daze he was in.

“You’re okay. You don’t look injured,” the woman said.

“What about the others?” Ohio asked. He needed to know if any of his people had been hurt. If the National Guard had actually killed people, there was going to be hell to pay.

“You need to calm down first,” the woman said. Ohio shook his head, rising to his feet.

“I need to see them,” Ohio said. The woman grabbed his arm.

“You shouldn’t.”

“I’ve seen death before,” Ohio argued, trying to pull his arm out of her grip.

“That doesn’t mean you need to see it again. You need to get some rest,” the woman ordered. Ohio looked back in the direction of the gunshots, his desire to do his duty and his desire to sit back down, warring with each other.

Ohio needed to check on his people.

But he still felt dazed.

Ohio sat back down.

“My name’s Lawrence.”

“Sarah.”

• ───────────────── •

Event: Publication of the Pentagon Papers

Location: Washington, District of Columbia, United States of America

Date: June 18, 1971

America was furious.

He had known the war in Vietnam was expanding. That much was obvious with how his presidents would expand the draft and bring the war into other countries like Cambodia.

What America didn’t realize was how much of that he didn’t know was happening.

Report of the Office of the Secretary of Defense Vietnam Task Force, a collection of leaked documents had revealed to America just how much he wasn’t aware of, how much LBJ had lied to America, to his people, and to Congress.

“Well, if we hadn’t passed the law giving the president the power to do whatever he wanted in Indochina without consulting Congress, maybe none of this would have ever happened,” Mabel argued. 

“How were we supposed to know? They were trying to do what they thought was best,” Caleb argued, although even he didn’t sound like he believed what he was saying.

“Are you okay, America?” Lydia asked. America sighed.

“I…I think so. It’s just… coastal raids, using the marines to attack places, all of this. I can’t help but wonder if I would have been told about this if I was a little less vocally anti-war about everything,” America wondered. 

If he had been told, could he have stopped it? Could he have done something to mitigate the expansion of the war or done something to prevent more people from dying?

“Don’t blame yourself, Mae,” Caleb began, “Even if you had been silent, with how many anti-war protests there have been and with how strong the anti-war sentiment is, they probably wouldn’t have told you anyway.”

“And this report is from 1945-1968. Clearly, there was some shit going on even before you became very vocally anti-war. It’s not worth it to blame yourself,” Mabel added. America sighed.

“I still…I should have realized something was wrong sooner. Southie lost her leg due to this war. There should have been something that I could have done,” America said, burying his face in his hands.

“You did all you could. But there’s no use in wallowing in what-ifs. We know what they were doing. We should at least try to stop it,” Lydia suggested. America nodded.

“You’re right.”

“When am I not?”

“Two weeks ago. It was game night. You–”

“Caleb, if you tell anyone about that, I swear to all that is good and holy in the world—”

America laughed, the argument setting some of the unease in his soul. He was lucky to have them.

America didn’t know what he would do without them.

• ───────────────── •

Event: Taiwan is kicked out of the United Nations

Location: New York City, State of New York, United States of America

Date: October 25, 1971

China couldn’t believe it.

She couldn’t believe what had just happened. United Nations General Assembly Resolution 2758 had…had passed.

The United Nations had just declared that she was not the legitimate representative of China to the United Nations and instead had proclaimed that the false China that had invaded her country and forced her to flee it was the legitimate China.

China had never been angrier in her entire life.

“I helped to found this organization. I was one of the original signatories and have been here since the beginning. I fought alongside the Allies during World War Two, dealt with the Japanese butcher of my people, and dealt with a false country forcing me from my home and people, and you want to say that I am not the legitimate China? You want to say that I am some sort of fake, some imposter? You have known me for longer than she has been alive! You cannot just delegitimize me!” China exclaimed, looking out over the members of the United Nations.

The ones who had voted for her to be removed from the United Nations at least had the dignity to look sheepish about their decision. Some of the ones that had voted for her to stay, like the United States, Australia, New Zealand, and Brazil, looked just as upset as her.

What hurt the most were the people she had truly believed to be allies.

Britain. France. Canada. India. Countries that had always been against communism. Why were they suddenly in support of a communist power? Just to force her out of the United Nations? 

Ireland still recognized the Baltic nations despite the fact that the USSR had been occupying them since 1940! How dare he vote that she was no longer the legitimate China!

“I’m sorry,” United Nations began, unable to look China in the eyes, “But I cannot change what has happened.”

China stood up, ready to give the United Nations a piece of her mind, before America rushed down, placing a hand on her shoulder, giving her pause.

“China,” America said, still calling her by her name, “Now isn’t a good time, less you ruin any future attempt at diplomacy.”

The words were harsh but necessary. If China got too up in arms about their stupid, stupid decision, she could solidify in some people’s minds that she was unworthy to be considered the legitimate China.

“I think now might be a good time to end for the day,” Britain said, “I think we all need a moment to process things.” 

“And we need to invite China to the United Nations. I invited her here since I knew we would be voting on this, so she is in the city now and can join us tomorrow,” Albania said. It took all of China’s self-control to bite down on her anger at Albania’s words, and the urge to make him pay for the disrespect overwhelmed her.

“Let’s speak in private,” America said, lowering his voice and guiding China out of the room, taking them to another room in the building as other countries began to file out of the meeting room.

“How could they all just choose to let her? That false China invaded my country and took it over illegally!” China began ranting, just needing to do something to get rid of the ball of anger in her chest.

“Because she exists, and she controls more land than you do. So some people think that means she should replace you. You know where I stand. I don’t think she should replace you, but that you should both have representation in the United Nations,” America said. China gritted her teeth.

“A false country shouldn’t be allowed inside of the United Nations,” China pointed out. America sighed.

“Maybe not, but you can’t deny that she is currently in charge of millions of people. We can’t just ignore them. But she shouldn’t have taken your place. Plenty of people, myself included, still recognize you as the legitimate government of China,” America said, something dark in his eyes.

“At least I’m not the only one who hates this outcome,” China said with a bitter laugh. “I’m worried, though. This will give more legitimacy to the false China. It could…it could convince people that she is the proper one to recognize and end up with me being seen as a false government. Some people already think I shouldn’t exist.”

“Well, even if no one recognizes you, I promise you, China, that I will always support you. You’re my ally and my friend, and I’m not going to abandon you to Red China,” America promised. China nodded.

“You better keep that promise.”

“Trust me, I will.”

[weirdestbooks]

Secrecy and Deception Chapter 34

One Small Step (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Event: US Moon Landing

Location: America’s House, the Land In-Between 

Date: July 20, 1969

NASA had never been more excited for anything in his entire life. It was finally happening. After years of planning and work, after failed missions, accidents, and trying again and again and again, it was finally happening.

They were going to land on the moon.

NASA had been so excited and wanted to watch it from mission control so he could be there in case anything happened and see all the science and knowledge and information they were going to get right after the landing, but his father had asked if NASA would be willing to watch and celebrate it with his family so they could all see the fruits of his hard work.

NASA flapped his hands as he sat down on the couch beside his father, grinning so wide that his face was nearly splitting.

“Someone’s excited,” Texas commented, a fond smile on his face as he ruffled NASA’s hair. NASA frowned slightly, not liking when people touched his head, but not wanting to tell Texas to stop.

“Tex,” Father said, causing Texas to remove his hand as Texas and Father exchanged a look that NASA couldn’t decipher. 

“Are you ready?” Virginia then asked, distracting NASA from his father and brother. NASA nodded, his grin returning.

“I have been ready since the Apollo missions started. I can’t believe it’s finally happening!” NASA said. Alabama smiled.

“And we’re beating the Soviets to the moon too. Another bonus!” Alabama cheered. NASA frowned at that comment. He didn’t get why his siblings were more focused on the so-called Space Race and not on the fact that they were about to send people to the moon!

They were about to make a scientific breakthrough, the likes of which had never been seen before. They would be able to get samples of the moon, bring back rocks and dust, and learn what made their moon and if the moon was similar to Earth or completely different. 

It was something that could and would completely change their understanding of the body that lit the night sky. 

This could change science, change astronomy.

Why did people only care about the Soviet Union?

“We’re very proud of you, NASA,” Virginia said, returning her focus to NASA, “You’ve done an amazing thing.”

“I just wish I had been allowed to be in mission control to watch it,” NASA grumbled.

“But then I wouldn’t be able to congratulate my baby boy in person for his amazing achievements!” Father said, having finished his…his thing with Texas, as he sat down beside NASA, smiling widely. 

“Father…” NASA groaned. He knew he was amongst his siblings, but he hated when his father got like this. It always made him feel strange and younger than he needed to be. NASA was a highly intelligent rocket science, and he didn’t need to be babied by his father, especially when he was so young by human terms. 

“Sorry, sorry. We know you don’t like that. We’re just excited,” Father—or was it father? NASA always had a hard time telling who was in control of the body and when the control changed hands—even if it happened in front of him.

Whatever was happening in his father’s head, it was an issue of the mind, and it wasn’t something that NASA understood. NASA liked and understood as his technology and machines. They were easy to understand.

Humans were harder to understand.

Especially his father.

“I think we all are,” NASA said, looking around at all his siblings that had shown up. Not all of them were there. Father’s house was big but not big enough to fit everyone into the living room. Most of his other siblings were in their own homes, watching as well.

At least, NASA hoped they were.

They were all so much older than him, having seen and experienced so much. Sometimes, NASA still felt like they saw him as a dumb kid.

He wanted to show them what he could do. He might not be a state or a former country, but he was an organization, and he had his own strengths. 

NASA turned away from his siblings and father, looking at the TV screen and inspecting the video of the shuttle. His stomach lurched, worry flooding through him as he scanned the grainy footage for signs of damage, or problems, or anything that could prevent the men from getting home, anything that might prove that he had overlooked some crucial competent in the construction of the shuttle.

But that thought was quickly tossed out of his mind as he saw the man climbing down the ladder.

It was happening. Mankind was now about to set foot on their moon for the very first time. NASA…he had done it.

Well, provided nothing happened to the astronaut in the few seconds it took to get down the ladder. 

“That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,” the astronaut said, his foot connecting with the surface of the moon. NASA nodded in agreement, the words that were spoken having summed up so perfectly the power of the moment.

Space was the final frontier, something they knew so little about. 

But they had men on the moon. They could get samples, learn more about space and its history than their predecessors a hundred years ago could have only dreamed about.

Father, or maybe someone else, placed a gentle hand on NASA’s shoulder.

“I’m proud of you,” they said, smiling widely but with a soft voice.

“Congratulations, little brother! I knew you could do it,” Texas said, throwing an arm over NASA’s shoulders and squeezing him tightly. NASA squirmed out of Texas’ grip, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

“I can’t believe we did it!” Montana said before smiling over at NASA, “You really showed those Soviets a thing or two, didn’t you.”

NASA tried to stamp down the familiar flicker of annoyance that came with someone making all of his work about the USSR again, standing up.

“I think I should get back to mission control now. It’s time to focus on the mission, and I need to be involved with that,” NASA announced.

The room was beginning to feel hot and cramped, and too many eyes were on him. NASA needed to escape, and his calculations and science provided the perfect distraction.

“You go do what you need to do,” Virginia said, “But, seriously, congratulations on what you have just achieved. You should be very proud.”

NASA's face split into a slight grin.

“Trust me. I am.”

[weirdestbooks]

The Weapon and the Spy Chapter 1

The Rebellion (Wattpad | Ao3)

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TW for needles and body horror. Also @jmysty4 wrote part of this chapter and made the art so shoutout. We also now have a discord server for this fic.

50 years later…

Ireland had known Oceania was bad news. Everything they did was strange, odd, and set off alarm bells in his head, a warning that they were dangerous.

The takeover hadn’t been expected, but looking back on everything Oceania had said and done, Ireland should have expected it.

He always hated that he didn’t realize until it was too late. Until he was no longer his own nation, a goal he had fought so hard to achieve, but just another piece of the so-called Airstrip One.

That didn’t mean Ireland had been useless. He was far from the only person who hated Oceania’s dictatorship and wanted to see it removed.

“Big Brother” claimed to see all, but the unrest was only growing. Many people, both Irish and British alike, refused to be oppressed without resistance.

And so the Rebellion was born.

And it was ready to reclaim their home.

Before they could do that, however, they had to reclaim someone else first. 

Britain had told Ireland all those years ago, the last time they had contact, that Oceania wanted something with his powers. Considering Oceania’s obsession with surveillance and always wanting to know where everyone was and what they were doing and thinking, Ireland knew that Britain had to be involved.

Unwillingly.  

Britain and Ireland had never been close friends, but Britain was a right stubborn bastard, and he wouldn’t just give into Oceania’s demands. More likely, he was being forced into doing it.

Ireland wouldn’t be surprised if Oceania were willing to kill Britain’s people in order to keep him under their thumb.

Which is why they needed to get Britain away. The more personifications that sided with the rebellion, the more influence they had, which was something they sorely needed.

Far too many people had grown up and were raised by Oceania’s dictatorship. It would take a lot to free them all, to break the hold Oceania’s propaganda had on them.

Secondly, it was hard to find information on Oceania’s might, their concentrations of military force, and all the things like that. But Ireland could always find Britain, ever since the night when they were meant to combine, and he knew if he could rescue Britain, they would be able to learn more than they would have been able to before.

It was hard to have spies.

So they needed someone who had already been on the inside.

They needed Britain. Thankfully, finding him would not be an issue. Even though Britain had cut the mental ties that had connected them, it wasn’t enough to truly burn the bridge between them anymore. Their bond went deeper than just another string in Britain’s massive web. They were meant to become one, and Ireland could feel it.

His very soul ached for its missing pieces, a pain he was more than willing to endure in exchange for his freedom. He was glad for it, truly, but it still kept him up at night. He wished that there had been more time, anything, to figure out what was happening. It was maddening, decades of uncertainty and paranoia leaving him with a steadily growing hole in his core, threatening to tear him apart. It wasn’t like this before when he had been a part of the United Kingdom, but now every fiber of his being was screaming that his existence was wrong. He shouldn’t be. The torn and frayed edges around the gaping wound that Britain’s absence left on his soul would not close. And they reached out, forming bright lines in the air and on the ground, a guiding light only for him to see, beckoning him to follow, to become whole. He dreamed of blood, pyramids, and spiders. So no, finding Britain would not be an issue. Getting him out of whatever predicament he’d find himself in, however, was.

That’s how Ireland found himself back in London. He hadn’t dared to go anywhere near the city since he first noticed surveillance getting more extensive, and now the price the city had paid became painfully clear. 

Five decades under INGSOC rule had left London a shadow of its former self. Now, there were only factories filling the whole city with smog so thick you could mistake it for fog and giant gray apartment complexes nestled between slums. It was as though the entire city had been leveled and rebuilt anew to fit Oceania’s needs. And in the heart of London, besides the oily stream that was once the Thames, stood a gigantic structure, best compared to Egypt’s pyramids. In the sea of soot and dirt, it stood pristine, glowing white like polished marble: the Ministry of Truth. This was it, the moment they’d been praying for, hoping to arrive for 50 years. The Rebellion was ready to take back what was theirs. It was a monumental effort, one Ireland had spent at least four of these five past decades, to build a resistance strong enough to one day take down Oceania from the inside, one sector, one region, one countryhuman at a time. It was ambitious, unreasonable even, but he had to try. He had to. He was given a chance, and he was going to make the most of it; all the odds be damned. The beginning of his rebel group was blurry, a time he mostly spent in a drunken stupor when the weight of this new world was too much. It didn’t last. Ireland had never been one to wallow in self-pity for long, but he thought he was justified in wishing for the tiniest bit of relief in times like these. Before long, he’d found his purpose again, the same it had always been: to help his people. At first, he simply tended to wounds, offered food. Discreet acts, helping the struggling, but he was never able to offer a long-term solution. His escapades only escalated from there, and soon enough, he began harboring men and women on the run, or at least the few that managed not to be taken to the Miniluv within mere hours. The Party’s regime was cruel and harsh and terribly, horribly effective. Within just a few years, a proper underground resistance was born. Many others of their kind came and went; some were just flukes invented by the Party to catch defectors. But for the first time in a long time, Ireland allowed himself to dream. And now the time had come. They were split up into groups, spreading out throughout the city, and at 7 pm sharp, they were ordered to begin their riots. The city was large, and they would use it to their advantage, stretch the Thought Police thin throughout the winding streets, and overrun the city before reinforcements from Dublin or Manchester could arrive. It was planned out as perfectly as it could be, which frankly wasn’t a lot, but it would have to do. But Ireland had a different mission after all. Getting inside that blasted building and getting Britain out of said building, no matter the cost. He could feel the cut bond all the more clearly now, all centered in the massive pyramid-shaped hellhole the Ministry of Truth called its home on the British Isles. Britain had to be inside that thing. Unfortunately, it was also the most guarded building in the whole city. A fact that would not deter him. Ireland wanted to get as close as possible to the Ministry before being detected, so he’d decided to use the first riots as a distraction. He only took a handful of people with him. His little side quest should not be to the detriment of their greater efforts. So, as the first explosions rang through the streets and smoke began to reach from the streets into the foggy skies above, his mission began. He stopped his people in a decrepit alleyway right next to the Ministry. From here, the giant structure cast a massive shadow onto the neighborhood they’d found themselves in and tinged everything in black. He turned around, eying each of his comrades carefully, before addressing them directly.

“Remember,” Ireland whispered, “My job is to find Britain and get him out. You need to find any information of use and then destroy as much as you can while you’re at it. The more we can find for our operation and the more of Oceania’s things that we can destroy and impede, the better off we’ll all be. Understood?”

The other rebels nodded, and Ireland made his way forward. He was going to enter first, followed by the rebels. Since the others planned on being more of a distraction, they couldn’t enter together, as that would draw eyes to Ireland.

He needed to be undetected for as long as he could. After years on the run, he’d developed a knack for blending in. He had left his coat and other rugged clothing behind at their little outpost in what was once the Peak District, opting to wear an old Thought Police uniform he’d salvaged from one of their missions. It was probably out of commission, but it did not matter too much. All he had to do was play the part. 

Ascending the stairs, posture straight and proud, felt like slipping into a different skin, but it was a process that came to him as naturally as breathing. He could feel camera lenses following his movement, see a few workers glancing his way. He ignored it. If you acted like you belonged, no one really questioned it. He

Ireland stepped through the great entrance into a foyer. It was scarcely decorated but well taken care of. Everything was spotless, concrete walls hidden behind layers of perfect white. People mingled here, checking in and out, hurrying to their stations and departments. A few officers were here as well, but all the attention he got were a couple of acknowledging nods. No one stopped to chat or look. Perfect. Now inside the building, he lowered his posture, opting to make himself as small as possible. He faded into the crowd, becoming just one of many, as any good worker of the Outer Party would. Ireland followed the stream, slipping past the check-in amidst a particularly big wave of employees. Slowly, he noticed the energy in the building shifting, uncertainty flickering in the worker's eyes. The news from outside must’ve finally made their way inside. The crowd in the foyer and other entrance-level rooms began to grow panicked, speed picking up and voices getting louder. Ireland picked up speed as well, but unlike the others, he had a goal in mind. As he moved further, the crowd became smaller but even more hectic. He cut his way through the chaos with cold precision and finally moved into the last room of the entrance level. He had no clue how the rest of the layout of this place looked.

Once Ireland got past the last department entry, he started running. Without a clue where to go and only the shimmering threads of his core reaching for its missing parts to lead him, Ireland surged forward, onwards, pushing past the few remaining confused workers and dodging the last Thought Police officers still left within the building. He reached a set of stairs. Faintly, he realized the walls had become more barren. Gray. Nothing to cover the concrete anymore. He rushed down the stairs, hearing shouts behind him. After narrowly avoiding crashing into the wall at the bottom of the stairs, he used his momentum to push himself up and continued. Running through the long hallways, he entered what looked to be a meeting room. Empty. Thankfully. Stopping was out of the question, though, so he kept moving.

He left behind a mess, broken glass, and scattered papers. Not that he cared anyhow. A sharp turn, another set of stairs.

Perhaps Ireland should have been more adamant to get a proper map for the layout of this place, but he doubted it would have helped. The hallways were nothing but a maze, built with the intention to be as hard to navigate for newcomers as possible. At this point, he feared that the actual problem he’d face would be the struggle to find his way back out.

Another sharp turn. A set of doors. Locked.

Ireland did not hesitate, his body moving on autopilot and adrenaline taking over as he broke them down. He did not realize he was running again, nor did he know if he was even being followed. His mind was lagging behind, trying to keep up with the rush.

Deeper and deeper, Ireland ventured into the belly of the beast, bland concrete walls now giving way to rustic metal plates and pipes, still lit as brightly as ever. Here, the only sounds accompanying him were his rapid footsteps and raspy breaths. The shouts, fires, and explosions outside felt more like a distant memory, and officers were nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, a flicker in his peripheral. A face. Spectral, barely noticeable, familiar at first before melting away into the concrete walls. Ireland stopped.

Before him stood a door.

Constructed entirely out of metal, large and foreboding, embedded into the blank wall with wires and pipes reaching into the room behind. His goal.

Ireland let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. A clammy hand reached for the deceptively simple knob. The mechanism had corroded, and rust had taken over, but with a hefty shove and loud crack, the handle buckled beneath the pressure and gave way. Momentary surprise pulled at Ireland’s features, eyes going wide.

Why is it not locked?

The door was heavy, the metal hinges screaming as Ireland tore them open. It was deafening. Panic seized his heart, and he bolted through the small entrance he made for himself into the room, barely registering his new surroundings before slamming the door shut.

Unnecessary. No one is here.

The room was cold and dark, the only light source in the dingy space being over a dozen old TV monitors haphazardly lining the walls opposite the door in a crude half-circle. They were mounted onto the furniture and the walls. 

Some even hung from the ceiling and all connected to the room’s center with thick tubes and long cables, disappearing into shadows. The screens flickered irregularly as though switching channels, and the blaring lights stung the Irishman’s eyes.

Ireland averted his gaze to let his sight adjust, instead letting it sweep along the room’s outer edges, cramped with dusty machinery, surgical equipment, shelves stuffed with recorders, and tanks filled with unknown substances. 

The air was buzzing with electricity, and a constant, unbroken cacophony of mechanical whirring filled every crevice in his brain, joining the rushing blood in his ears. Ireland tried to steady himself, to calm his racing thoughts, and broke into a coughing fit. The deep inhale only filled his lungs with dust and stale air. The ventilation system must be broken.

After the fit subsided, the room’s stench fully hit his senses, hitting him like a truck. The rancid mixture of blood, oil, disinfectant, and metal penetrated his nose and almost made him throw up right then and there. He tried his best to ignore it and fight through the gagging reflex, instead turning his attention towards the middle of the room again.

Despite the monitors, he could make out little more than a silhouette, a pool of darkness framed by harsh artificial light. There was a chair, that much he could tell, stood proudly at the center like a throne, but its state, rickety and rusty, felt like an insult to the comparison. Whatever sat atop the chair was obscured by a pitch-black blanket, a convergence of darkness as though someone had ripped a hole into reality, and only the void remained. He moved closer.

Ireland nearly avoided tripping over several cables on his way and almost got caught in one of the many wires that hung too low from the ceiling, but he steadily moved forward. A hand rose to shield his eyes as his gaze turned upwards from the ground, settling on the figure before him. He stopped—a widening of eyes, a quick but shaky intake of foul air.

Standing closer, the cold light illuminated the dark mass, pearlescent in reflection like an oily sheen. Ireland sucked in another bitter breath. The hand that had moved to protect his eyes reached out agonizingly slow, shaking like leaves.

Thin, pale arms stuck out from behind the veil, resting loosely on the chair’s crooked armrests, bound and held in place by strong metal cuffs twice the size of the bony wrists they held captive.

He moved further.

The light blue of a hospital gown peeked out of the shadows, the garment hanging much too loosely off the body it was covering, stained with old blood and bile.

And further.

A body slumped into itself, unmoving, chest barely rising with only the faintest signs of breath.

And further.

Wires and bolts, embedded into flesh. Pins and needles linked to veins. Tubes and pipes connected to nerves.

His hand touched the black, revolting immediately as shock set his nerves ablaze. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. 

Ireland leaned forward, his body unfurling from the coiled-up position he’d fallen into as tremors continued to wrack his body. His second hand joined the other, shakily but carefully, oh so carefully, and pushed the veil aside, darkness retreating, fabric rustling and shifting, except it was not. It never was. The strands parted easily, revealing the face beneath.

Britain.

Britain’s eyes were half-lidded and cloudy, as there was no emotion or awareness in them. They were painfully empty.

A thick wire was embedded in the back of his neck, another into his back, trailing along the spine. The skin around them was jagged and scarred but still healed, as if the wires were simply a part of Britain. 

Ireland…he had thought…he had thought Britain was forced to work for Oceania. This was worse than anything he could have ever expected.

Ireland bit down the urge to vomit.

He had to get Britain out of here.

Ireland slowly began to pull the needles and pins from Britain's skin. Some slid out without any effort. Some were stuck in so deep it was like pulling out a splinter. Ireland tried to leave those alone. He didn’t want to make anything worse. 

Ireland let out a shaky exhale as he looked at the wires in Britain’s flesh, wires that were surely doing something to his mind.

Ireland didn’t feel qualified to get him out of here without making anything worse.

“I’m sorry,” Ireland whispered to his friend’s still body, “I hope you aren’t feeling any pain from this.”

Britain was clearly alive, but his breaths were shallow, his body looking like an emaciated corpse. 

Ireland tried his best to avoid aggravating any injuries, but at the same time, working fast. This was taking a lot longer than he’d planned, and Ireland could feel the creeping paranoia and fear that came from staying in one place for too long.

Eventually, Ireland got through everything but the wires. 

He still hadn’t touched those, afraid they were live. It was hard to tell when Britain was so still and the room so old it looked as if he hadn’t been touched since Oceania originally took power.

“You’re almost out. You’ll be free soon,” Ireland said, unsure of whether Britain could even hear him or if his friend was too far gone.

Ireland then left the room, casing out the surrounding area to see if there was a way to turn off power to the wires or confirm that there was no power running through them. He found a fusebox a short ways away from the room, which only contained a few switches, all of which seemed to be related to whatever machines Britain was hooked to.

It made Ireland sick.

Did they have Britain on a separate power grid so they could ensure whatever machine he was connected to was always on?

Ireland turned off the switches with unnecessary harshness, rage flooding through him.

He quickly ran back to the room Britain was in, eager to see if that had changed anything about him. Britain still looked unresponsive, and Ireland’s heart plummeted.

Ireland pushed aside his worries and focused on cutting the wires off of Britain.

He couldn't remove anything that was stuck too deep within Britain’s body and probably connected to his nerves or vital arteries. So, instead, he pulled out his old hunting knife and began cutting the other free by force. Some tubes spilled blood when he severed them; others were empty. Ireland wasn’t sure which was more frightening. Before long, he was done. Ireland carefully grabbed onto Britain’s form, half lifting, half dragging him out of the rusty chair he had been placed on. With still shaking hands, Ireland reached to cradle the other’s face. Britain had always had a lithe frame and sharp features, but now he looked like little more than skin and bones. Cheeks gaunt, and eye sockets hollow. Ireland gathered Britain's hair - it was his hair, dear god, not a blanket but hair - and, for lack of means of containing it, wrapped the long, sleek strands around the man’s neck as if it were a scarf. He gathered his bearings and finally picked up Britain's too-skinny body in his arms, trying to force down the overwhelming urge to fuse that the full-body contact caused.

“We’re getting out of here,” Ireland said, holding his friend close and trying to ignore the smell of death that came from him and how intimately his body and autonomy had been violated. “You’re free.”

Ireland just hoped Britain’s mind was intact enough to realize that.

[weirdestbooks]

I was reading the United States of Ameridad fiction and I was wondering if you can say more on Puerto Rico being treated by a awful, and racist doctor I was wondering if you could say more on that?

Thank you, I've been enjoying all your stories a lot

That doctor was Cornelius P. Rhoads and he was the worst. Very racist and all around terrible guy. Google him if you want to learn more in him.

But because of what he did, Puerto Rico mistrusts doctors and has iatrophobia, a fear of doctors. Puerto Rico is hesitant to get medical treatment from doctors and doesn’t trust medical procedures he doesn’t understand.

[weirdestbooks]

The Shot Heard Around the World Chapter 39

Spanish Assistance (Wattpad | Ao3)

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June 21, 1779 

Spain wished his father was able to think things through a little bit more. He knew his father was the empire, while Spain was just their homeland, and that he ultimately was the one in charge, but did he really think supporting a colonial revolt was a bright idea?

“Father, are you sure it is wise to support the rebels in Britain’s colonies? Are you not worried that will inspire people in our colonies to rebel?” Spain asked. His father was the empire. If they were to lose all their colonies, Spain would live, but his father would die.

He didn’t want his father to die.

“We aren’t supporting the colonies, Spain. We’re allied with France, not with the colonies. That is not giving them support,” Father said. Spain let out a small huff of frustration.

“I think it is,” Spain said. “We’re helping his colonies by choosing to fight him.”

“And we are letting people know that our empire does not support rebellion by not creating an official alliance with the rebels, not recognizing their little ‘country,’ and only staying allied with France for our gain. We need to secure our borders in America and reclaim Gibraltar, as well as any other of our colonies that we can, like Florida. We aren’t going to be fighting with or for the Americans. We are simply going to use Britain’s weakness to further our goals,” Father explained, sounding so confident that his actions were the correct ones.

“But this is dangerous. Britain won’t take it that way. He’ll see you as allied with his colonies, and our colonies might as well,” Spain argued. Father shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter. We are fighting for our family, not for those colonies. We’re fighting for Gibraltar, Florida, and Florida’s newborn daughter. We’re fighting to save and protect them, Spain. Our family will see that. I’m sure they want our family returned to us just as much as we do,” Father said. 

How could his father be such a fool? At one point, he had been the most powerful empire in the world. He was still a powerful empire. And yet he squandered alliances and made foolhardy decisions, all for the sake of family. 

Spain loved his family, too, but his father took it too far.

Father would destroy his empire for family. 

He would risk the lives of thousands of their people for family. There was a reason why Spain had ordered New Spain to keep the American colonies in line. Father wouldn’t, but New Spain had the personality of an empire. That, combined with his worship of Father, made him an ideal candidate to pick up the slack from Father’s head being too high in the clouds. 

But it wasn’t right that a simple colony was doing Father’s job better than Father could. It wasn’t right. It was a sign of something worse to come; Spain knew it, and Father’s choices only reaffirmed that decision. 

“I care for our family, Father. I promise. But I worry for our people, too. They are also our family, are they not? We should consider that before we rush into things like this,” Spain said. Father waved him off, chuckling as if Spain had just said something amusing. 

“Spain, they want us to regain our family as well. We are all supportive of this. I know you are cautious, but the treaty has been signed. I expect you to join the army when they go to attack Gibraltar, understood?” Father asked. Spain bowed his head, knowing that nothing could be done to convince his father of anything when he got like this.

“I understand, Father. I am sorry for doubting you,” Spain said before turning on his heel and marching away.

He hoped this didn’t end badly for them. 

Hopefully, France would keep the rebel colonies under control before they inspired more colonies to go against their nature.

• ───────────────── •

July 8, 1779

Out of all her siblings to do something so stupid, Newfoundland would have never guessed that Thirteen Colonies would be the one to snap and declare independence. Thirteen Colonies had never been the most independent soul. While he was given much more freedom than other colonies, that was due to his loyalty and his…mental issues.

Newfoundland wondered if that was why her brother had completely lost it and tried to declare independence. 

It would have been a surprise if that was the reason. Thirteen Colonies’ mental issues were not that extreme. If anything, as they caused him to have a terrible memory and become easily confused, that would have motivated him to remain a colony, where he is safe and taken care of and never has to worry about the stresses of being a country.

So beloved by their father and so loyal to him, he could have spent his entire life never really needing to lift a finger.

Thirteen Colonies declaring independence didn’t make sense. This didn’t…Newfoundland knew that Thirteen Colonies and Father had been arguing, but nothing after Thirteen Colonies left made any sense for him.

Even when they argued, Thirteen Colonies still acknowledged and thought of himself as British. Then he suddenly stops going home and is injuring their family, supporting rebels, and doing all sorts of things that were entirely out of character for him.

Newfoundland knew that the rebels had to have found out about Thirteen Colonies' mental issues and were either blackmailing him to fight for them or taking advantage of his confusion to convince him that his family was wrong and evil.

To Newfoundland, that was the only explanation that made any sense.

It made her feel the slightest bit guilty about the mission she had been sent on to take part in raids against towns in New England.

The only reason Newfoundland was here was because now that the war was stalemating, Father now wanted to overwhelm Thirteen Colonies, sending as many of their siblings as he could against Thirteen Colonies as a way to show him how alone he now was.

Newfoundland’s group had just burnt down the town of Fairfield after dispersing its militia. All the raids were being done in an attempt to draw rebel soldiers from the Hudson Valley and force them into an engagement up north, something that could hopefully break the stalemate.

General William Tryon was very confident that they would be successful, but Newfoundland was more hesitant. She was worried that all they were going to end up doing was inflaming local hatred of them and that, eventually, it would be the militia that came after them, not the rebel army. 

The soldiers had laughed off her worries, claiming that she was only concerned because she was a woman and she should be kept out of the action.

Hence why, Newfoundland had been trapped on board the ship since yesterday as General Tryon’s troops sacked the town and burned it. 

In fact, more of the burning had been done today than yesterday, as the civilians from the town had been so angry about being attacked that they had begun to bear down on her father’s troops and the German mercenaries, causing them to panic and set more fires.

It was something that proved her point slightly, something Newfoundland knew she was going to get no credit for.

She just hoped that these raids did what they were meant to achieve. 

Otherwise, she was afraid they had just made an enemy of themselves for no reason. 

• ───────────────── •

July 11, 1779

Another day, another Connecticut town to raid. This time, Newfoundland had talked General Tryon into letting her accompany the army to raid Norwalk, although she herself was unsure as to why. 

A small part of her knew it was because a part of her felt like she was being useless. Another part of her knew it was because she was worried about what her father would think or do if he found she did nothing to oppose Thirteen Colonies.

Father had ordered her and her siblings to fight against Thirteen Colonies. Newfoundland knew she would have to be a fool to disobey, especially with how angry he had to be with the war going nowhere and Thirteen Colonies still refusing to surrender.

Newfoundland wished Thirteen Colonies would surrender. The war would end, the weird and ever-growing tension in their household would end, and things could just go back to normal.

If Thirteen Colonies was afraid Father would punish him, revealing that the rebels took advantage of his mental issues would cause Father to grant him some leeway and forgiveness.

Newfoundland didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to hurt her brother.

But only one person could choose to end this war, and that was Thirteen Colonies.

Newfoundland could only do as she was ordered.

So when General Tryon gave the order to begin burning the town after the militia had been chased off, Newfoundland did so, ignoring the heavy weight that was growing in her heart.

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 37

A Messed-Up Family (Wattpad | Ao3)

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And we're back! The next chapter will be coming out on the 2nd, and then from there, there will be another small break as I finish up my other books. Secret States will return on June 18, after which it will be updated every Wednesday at 4:00 EST until it is completed. I just wanted to get out these two chapters now as a thank you to everyone who had been so patient with me.

Finland hadn’t paid much attention to the so-called revelation of the US states. Sure, one of them used to be his father’s, but that wasn’t any cause for Finland to get involved in the nonsense that was inevitably going to come from that.

So Finland was looking forward to a peaceful afternoon when someone knocked on his door. Finland sighed, not looking forward to whatever it was going to be about. Finland walked over to the door and opened it, revealing Arctic Council standing there with another country, one that looked quite nervous.

The country was strange. Their flag held stars, their hair was long, and they had a facial tattoo and many piercings. They were very recognizable, and yet Finland didn’t know them.

It was probably one of America’s states then, and Finland had a slight suspicion he knew who he was.

“What is it?”

“Oh, ah, hello, Finland.” The nervous state said, fiddling with his fingers. Finland stared at him, wondering where this was going, turning to Arctic Council in confusion. She stared back, raising an eyebrow in a non-verbal ‘hear him out.’ Finland sighed quietly and turned back to the country.

“I’m Alaska. I’m your brother.” 

Finland didn’t react. Finland didn’t expect the state to track him down the way he had, even if they both had ties to the Russian Empire.

“Ok,” Finland answered, acknowledging the fact before turning to leave the conversation. Arctic Council caught his elbow before pulling him closer and speaking to Finland in his own language.

“Suomi, listen to him. You don’t have to respond, but let him say his piece.” Arctic Council said. Finland stared at her face, trying to convey his silent question of why, wondering what made Arctic Council so focused on getting them to talk. She knew how Finland felt about the Russian Empire and his brood. 

“You were Russian America?” Finland asked, just to confirm the information he had heard. Alaska nodded, “The Russian Empire is not my family, neither is anyone else who is related to him.”

Alaska blinked but nodded, an action that Finland respected. Alaska’s words only solidified that small amount of respect. Arctic Council gave Finland a small smile and backed away, giving Finland and Alaska space to talk alone.

“Russian Empire isn’t my family either. That’s…that’s okay. I didn’t expect anything from you. I just want to talk.” Alaska said. Finland tilted his head slightly, not expecting that. He figured the state would go on about long-lost brothers or some other claim to try and get Finland to open up.

“About what?”

“About what it was like to be his colony.” Finland started at the state in shock before slowly closing the door.

“Goodbye,” Finland said, not wanting to deal with that topic. Forget everything he had said before. He would have preferred the state to start going on about long-lost brothers. That was more bearable than this.

“We were probably his only personified colonies. Do you not think that is something worth talking about?” Alaska asked. 

“I was a duchy, not a colony,” Finland corrected. He knew it was a pointless semantic, but anything to get this state to leave him alone. Finland did not want to recall his childhood.

“Did that mean he treated you well?” Alaska asked something…something curious; something hurt in his gaze.

“Russian Empire had his rules. If you followed them, you were fine,” Finland answered. Alaska frowned, grabbing his arms as if he needed to steady himself.

“I know that well,” Alaska said, something in his gaze turning darker. But then, seemingly inexplicably, Alaska said something else. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Finland asked, confused.

“You stood up to him,” Alaska said. Finland shook his head. 

“I never stood up to him. I just defied him. It’s not that special.”

“I could never even defy him. It took over seventy years for me to even get over the brainwashing, and even now, a part of me is convinced I’m the one who’s wrong and that he was the kind one. You did more than I ever could, Suomi. Thank you.” Alaska said. Finland shifted, uncomfortable with the way Alaska seemed to view him.  It felt…odd.

“I was still a loyal son for a long time. It wasn’t special,” Finland repeated, not knowing why Alaska was so intent on treating it as if it was.

“But…you did more than I ever could. Even after I became American, he still had such a strong grip on me that I kept going back, and going back, because…I didn’t feel I could be without him. Even though he was terrible. Thank you for…being able to do better and show him that not all his kids were his slaves,” Alaska said. “I’m sorry if that’s a lot for you. I know this must be strange. But I had to say it.”

Finland was reeling slightly from the interaction, unsure of what to say. It was clear that Russian Empire raised them in very, very different ways. Finland didn’t say that, though, not wanting to trigger a long conversion. Instead, he simply nodded.

“It is strange. Do you have anything else you want to say?” Finland asked.

“I have a lot I want to say, but I’m getting the feeling you aren’t interested in a conversation about Russian Empire,” Alaska said. Well, at least the person bothering him was perceptive.

“I’m not. I don’t have an interest in remembering a past that isn’t all that important,” Finland said. Russian Empire was dead and gone, so there was no point in thinking on all the lies and manipulation about the wings that still sat like heavy, useless weights on his back or how different things could have been.

The past was behind him. It had no use now.

“I understand,” Alaska said, bowing his head slightly, wings pulling close to his body as if he were trying to hide. “Thank you for speaking with me.”

Finland didn’t answer, closing the door as he watched Alaska reunite with two figures that were standing by Arctic Council. Finland closed his eyes, breathing out a slow breath. 

He was glad that Alaska hadn’t pushed anything.

[weirdestbooks]

Wrong Reflection Chapter 15

A Stranger With A Brother's Name (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Alfred couldn’t stop thinking about what James had told him. About Sam. About his daughter. And about the person who had hurt them.

Alfred knew it had to be their England. There was no one else that made sense to have done that, no one else who could have possibly been involved in the situation.

It made a sick feeling burn in his gut.

Arthur hadn’t always been a great brother/parental figure. Arthur left Alfred alone more often than not and wasn’t as involved in Alfred’s life as he should have been. 

Alfred was lonely more often than not.

But despite that, Alfred always knew Arthur loved him and cared about him. He made it clear every time he did come to visit Alfred. Arthur had never tried to hurt him, not even during Alfred’s War of Independence. 

So how and why did Sam’s England hurt him?

It didn’t make any sense. 

But Alfred, as confused and concerned as he was, wasn’t going to ask Sam about it. He was dense, but not that dense. But unfortunately, that left Alfred with a handful of puzzle pieces he was meant to put together without a reference image.

In other words, hard.

“James and the others just went to bed. They don’t want us prying into anything else or asking uncomfortable questions for a while. He says after getting one of their worst traumas triggered, they want a break to relax,” Matthew said. Alfred nodded, not really paying attention to what Matthew was saying, too caught up in trying to process how and why an England could have done that.

How someone who was supposed to be Arthur’s counterpart could have done that.

Alfred knew he and Sam were different, but this was something bigger, something harder for him to wrap his head around.

“Alfred?” Matthew asked again, snapping Alfred out of his contemplative silence.

“What? Sorry, Mattie. I was thinking about something,” Alfred said. Matthew sighed.

“I know you like to hold grudges, but please don’t tell me you’re still upset with Sam after what we’ve learned,” Matthew said. Feeling a slight tinge of hurt over the fact that Matthew thought Alfred could still be upset at Sam after what they learned, Alfred shook his head.

“I’m not mad at him. I’m mad at the person who put him in that scenario. That’s why he has DID, Mattie,” Alfred said. Matthew blinked, looking confused before his face paled.

“You don’t—he wouldn’t,” Matthew said, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“It…it makes sense,” Alfred said. Matthew shook his head some more.

“No, it doesn’t. Arthur wouldn’t kill his own—”

“But it’s not Arthur. Just like Sam isn’t me,” Alfred said.

“But, surely his England wouldn’t…wouldn’t do that to two of his colonies,” Matthew said. Alfred let out a small laugh, ignoring how bitter it sounded.

“Mattie, the New England Confederation was created by my people but was replaced by the Dominion of New England when Arthur and his government realized they didn’t control that confederation,” Alfred explained.

It was more complicated than that, but that was the most important thing for Matthew to know. The New England Confederation had been Alfred’s, not Arthur’s.

“Oh,” Matthew said, sitting down beside Alfred, falling silent.

“Yeah,” Alfred agreed. “Oh.”

“Do you think it was Britain or England? In his world, they’re different people, but they both would have—” Matthew began before Alfred cut him off.

“It would have had to be England. The New England Confederation was in the 1600s. The UK was created in 1707,” Alfred said, stomach twisting in knots, “His England…”

Alfred trailed off, not wanting to think about it any longer. 

“I mean, it’s not like we didn’t already suspect it. Having DID, and what the causes of that are supposed to be. It…Arthur’s counterpart being the one to do that is…pretty much the only possibility Alfred. You know that,” Matthew said, his voice calm. 

Alfred hated that.

“But it’s…I can’t…I don’t…I know it’s probably him. And I know it’s not Arthur, but I don’t want to believe it. I want to pretend it’s not true, that it’s just my mind running away from me again, but I can’t,” Alfred said, pulling his knees to his chest as his thoughts battled it out.

“If we were to meet his England, and it turned out that his England was the one who hurt him, you know Arthur’s going to be the first one to take a swing at him, right?” Matthew asked. Alfred laughed, a small amount of weight lifting off his shoulders.

“You’re right,” Alfred said. But as quick as the weight lifted, it returned.

“Are you okay, Alfred? I know this has all been a lot for you,” Matthew asked. Alfred nodded.

“M’fine.”

“Don’t sound fine.”

“Mattie…” Alfred said, a warning note in his voice.

“Alfred,” Matthew responded, his voice firm but not unkind. “You can’t ignore everything that hurts you.”

“I’m not hurting,” Alfred said. It felt wrong to call it hurting. Not after what Sam had been through. Living in a world where no one cared for your life, where the person meant to raise you hurt you, where it was all so bad, his mind’s way of coping was to divide into different people, where…everything seemed cruel.

Alfred’s problems seemed so small in comparison.

“Then why are you getting into a funk?” Matthew asked, placing a hand on Alfred’s shoulder. Alfred paused, trying to figure out how he was supposed to respond to that, with honesty, or a half-truth, or a lie, before he sighed.

He could never really hide things from Matthew.

“I feel…guilty, I guess,” Alfred began. Matthew’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Guilty? About what? Triggering Sam? I think we all understand that was an acide—”

“Not that. I feel guilty that…I had a good childhood. Arthur tried to be a good father, and he never tried to hurt me. I feel bad that I had all that while Sam was left in that situation. God, Mattie, did anyone try to help him out of it? Or was his revolution him finally escaping someone who hurt him?” Alfred rambled. 

“Alfred…” Matthew began, and Alfred knew from his tone of voice that he was in for a lecture. “That’s not your fault. You shouldn’t feel guilty for that.”

“Yeah…I know. But…I know he has kids to get back to. But I wish he didn’t have to go to a world that seems so cruel. It seems like it wants to hurt everyone that lives there,” Alfred said, feeling frustrated.

“I wish he didn’t either,” Matthew said, “But he’s an adult now. England definitely can’t hurt him anymore.”

Alfred bit his lip, thinking back to all the arguments he’s had with Arthur during World Meetings.

“I hope you’re right…”

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 36

This Will not Worsen my Trauma At All (Wattpad | Ao3)

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“Are you sure you want to do this?” Illinois asked again.

“Yes, Noi, I’m sure. You’ve met most of them, you say they’re safe, and I trust you.” Alaska said, smiling slightly at him. The smile faded as Alaska looked at the expression on his face. Alaska turned her head away to face Washington’s hands.

“Those are things you’ve known for years about them. Why now?” Washington signed. Alaska paused, clenching and unclenching his fist as he thought about answering the question.

“I…I guess I feel like I’ve run out of excuses for not talking to them.” Alaska finally said, sighing.

“Here’s one. I’ve never met you before and am not interested in meeting you. You aren’t obligated to talk to them if you don’t want to.” Illinois snarked, causing Washington to elbow him before signing his agreement.

“I hate you guys,” Alaska said, causing Washington to let out an amused laugh.

“Listen, Muuka, we aren’t trying to be mean. We just…” Illinois trailed off, looking over at Washington.

“We remember what you were like when you came to live with us, and we don’t want you to force yourself to relive that when every time you’ve tried, it’s only ended badly.” Washington signed.

“Joe, it’s not my fault FDR was trying to get us to be friends with the USSR by sabotaging our relationship with Britain,” Alaska said, causing Illinois to snort in amusement as he smacked the back of Alaska’s head with his wing.

“Ojej, stupid, it was your own idea to go and meet the USSR. No one made you do that.” Illinois said.

“That helped. It decreased Adax̂’s worry during the Cold War by letting him and the Soviet put together that agreement that autonomous zones and states were off limits.” Alaska said in an attempt to look on the bright side of the situation, getting twin looks of disbelief.

“Oh yeah, it decreased Dad’s anxiety a lot.” Washington signed sarcastically. Alaska flipped him the bird.

“At least this time, we aren’t going to talk to Russia, right?” Illinois asked. Alaska shook his head.

“No, Karolis, I’m not talking to Russia under any circumstances. It’s never worked out well for me to interact with a Russia. They’ve always tried to get into my head and convince me that they love me more than you guys do. I…don’t trust him to tell me the trust. And I don’t trust myself not to fall for it.” Alaska said, shifting uncomfortably, wings moving to wrap around his body.

His family didn’t know how often Alaska used to go back to his birth father, beg for his guidance, and let his words manipulate him more.

Russian Empire was so happy when he learned that Alaska had a military government that kept him docile, but he was free-minded enough to still need him.

It made Alaska sick to think about it.

“Being aware of how Russia is will make it hard for Russia to get into your head,” Washington added softly, reaching through Alaska’s wings to grab his hand, squeezing it gently. 

“Tėtis is aware of Britain being an abusive, manipulative fuck, and Britain can still get into his head. You’re not immune just cause you’re smart and aware of their behavior. Being overconfident...I just don’t want you to get into a mess you can’t escape.” Illinois chimed in.

“‘Hey Alaska, we want to come with you for moral support and to help you talk to your birth family.’” Alaska muttered sarcastically, remembering what his brothers had said when they decided to accompany him.

“Hey, we’re doing a great job of helping you out!” Illinois said, although sheepish, bumping his wing against Alaska’s own as an apology.

Washington released Alaska’s hand so he could sign, looking Alaska in the eyes as he did so.

“If you aren’t comfortable with us, we can leave. We won’t make you make us come.” Washington signed. Alaska shook his head.

“No, Joe, I’m okay with you coming. I just…let’s not focus on what can go wrong.” Alaska said. He hated getting reminded of things that could go wrong in risky scenarios. While he knew it was necessary sometimes, it worsened his anxiety a lot and made it harder for him to enjoy or do things, as his brain ran through worst-case scenario after worst-case scenario. It was worse regarding his—to Russian Empire’s family. 

It was something Alaska would never admit, but it felt like Illinois and Washington already knew it. Alaska was terrified about this. Alaska was so worried that something would go wrong and he would lose…not family or friends, as he knew that they would never get to that point, but lose possible acquaintances who could understand what it was like being under Russian Empire’s thumb.

Interacting with him as another nation was one thing, but being under his thumb…Alaska pushed the thoughts—the terrible, terrible memories aside, focusing on his breathing as it sped up some. Illinois’ hand was on his back, just above his wings, rubbing small circles as Washington grabbed his hand again.

“I’m okay,” Alaska said. Washington raised a skeptical eyebrow as his grip on Alaska’s hand tightened some.

“No, you aren’t,” Washington said, matter of fact.

“Muuka, we didn’t mean to make you nervous about everything. We’re just worried. But Lithuania is a great person. I can vouch for her if you want to meet her first to help lessen your anxiety.” Illinois said.

“I need to talk to Finland. He was under Russian Empire’s thumb, the same as I was. I need to just…I want…”

“Understanding?” Washington asked. Alaska squeezed his hand.

“Yeah. Understanding.” Alaska said, “I want to…I want to know that I wasn’t alone in my experience, and I want to know that there is someone who understands what it is like to be under the control of the Russian Empire. I don’t want this tiny part of me that sounds like him telling me I’m overreacting.”

Alaska lifted his hand to the back of his neck, and the old nervous habit of picking at his feathers was coming back. 

Illinois stopped Alaska’s hand as he gently pushed it back down to Alaska’s side, looking at Alaska with warm eyes, eyes that seemed far too understanding. Alaska wanted to cry.

Illinois and Washington were trying their hardest; that was obvious, especially since they knew they couldn’t understand. Even if Illinois sometimes–

They disagreed with Alaska’s decision to talk to Finland about their shared experiences, but they were determined to be with him anyway, determined to help because they knew the memories were too much for Alaska on a good day.

They and their support resulted from the single greatest thing Russian Empire had ever done for me.

But Alaska could get another kind of support. 

It all mattered on the kind of person Finland was and whether there was any chance that they could know each other as more than names on a map.

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 35

Frustration (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Kanawha’s favorite thing about her bedroom was that she could climb out of the window and onto the roof. It was a great place to escape the chaos of her family and get some peace for herself, not to mention it gave her a great view of the yard, where she could watch her siblings make fools of themselves, like the Great Bed Incident of 2004.

And will all the shit that had just started happening, Kanawha had a lot to think about.

Sometimes, Kanawha felt like being over two hundred made you lose all your common sense. It would explain so many things about…well, most people Kanawha knew of. All that stupidity and lack of common sense mixed with everything else that was going on just made her really stressed and frustrated, and she was pretty sure everyone else could tell.

Kanawha was just…mad. Maybe at Texas, maybe not. Kanawha was hoping that they would put it up for a vote someday and that they could do this after her family got their shit together and worked on some of their issues. 

Especially the issues over the fact that Dad was not as over the civil war as he believed he was, both as a person and as a country. All of them knew it, but Dad just likes pretending his problems don’t exist until they bite him in the ass. At least he stopped trying to drink his pain away. Not that Kanawha was any better. She just wished…

She wished her brother was here. She wished that her birth mother hadn’t replaced him.

She missed his wisdom.

“Hey, Wha. How are you doing?” Kanawha heard Tennessee’s familiar voice from behind her. Kanawha sighed, moving over to let Tennessee out the window as she joined Kanawha, a small smile tugging at her lips.

It was always nice to have a break from Kanawha’s thoughts.

“Thinking,” Kanawha said. Tennessee sighed. 

“Aren’t we all? You pissed at Tex?” Tennesse asked, cocking her head to the side, a mischievous glint in her eye. Concerned about a possible prank war on Texas, something Kanawha did not want to get involved in, she shook her head.

“Not sure yet. Just wish he waited until we were actually more over things.” Kanawha said, causing Tennesse to frown.

“I…that’s not going to happen until…the Confederacy’s legacy is gone. And who knows when that’ll happen. After all, it’s telling that he’s still here. Do you ever think that’s why?”

“I mean, it’s not like the humans know,” Kanawha pointed out.

“As far as we are aware,” Tennesse muttered. Kanawha’s eyebrows scrunched as she gave Tennessee a confused look.

“What does that mean? I thought you trusted him?” Kanawha asked. Tennesse shrugged.

“Things are complicated when it involves his legacy, and I think what Texas did is a great example of how, no matter how oblivious people are, secrets can’t be kept forever. I mean, we’ve always been public, even if some people never got the hint, not caring or just not realizing it until Tex said it. But now they realize they were idiots, which makes them paranoid and realize that they don’t know Dad like they thought they did, and until things die down, all eyes are on us. He’s not staying secret for much longer.” Tennesse explained.

“You know I was having a good day. I didn’t need those anxieties.” Kanawha told her. Tennesse snorted.

“You literally got into contact with the USSR in the middle of the fucking Cold War to spite Dad.”

“The Cold War was a time of many bad decisions on everyone’s part.”

“Well, I can’t argue with you there.” Tennesse said with an awkward laugh, “Sorry about being overly paranoid, I guess. I just want people to be on their guard. I…I don’t want anything bad to happen.”

“Nothing bad will happen, Nesse. Well, maybe not nothing, but everyone knows that harming us is libel to start conflict, and few countries are stupid enough to risk conflict with Dad. Besides, most of the world knew anyway.” Kanawha said, trying to reassure her. Tennesse still looked nervous, though, and Kanawha frowned in response, not sure what to say to reassure her.

“About us. Not about the Confederacy.” Tennessee said before biting her lip and moving to leave.

“Are you okay, Ness?” Kanawha asked, worried. Tennessee just seemed…concerned and almost panicked, and maybe it was nothing…but still. Tennesse smiled, and thankfully, it was one that seemed genuine. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just worried. I figured most people would be the same way. Maybe this is just a sign I have more intense anxiety.” Tennessee said before pulling herself back inside. Kanawha frowned, watching her retreating back. Tennesse probably just needed a nap or something. She always acted weird when under stress.

“Hey, Kanawha! Quit sulking!” Kanawha heard Virginia yell as she walked towards the house, her way of showing concern. 

Kanawha hated that things between them were better now. It felt like a betrayal to her brother’s memory.

“Fuck you!” Kanawha yelled back halfheartedly at her birth mother, now adoptive sister. Virginia frowned, probably noticing the lack of bite, but since Kanawha wasn’t one of her children anymore, she didn’t pry, just walking into a house after a few concerned looks were shot my way.

She at least respected boundaries. That was nice.

Hopefully, she didn’t send Kentucky Kanawha’s way. Kanawha had enough going on without his mother henning.

Kanawha should probably leave, though, just to be safe. Pulling herself back into her room, Kanawha was immediately bombarded by a cacophony of screaming as Alabama’s high-pitched screams broke through the silence.

Sounds like Vermont finally got him. What a shame. He had lasted so long as well. Kanawha guessed Vermont took advantage of everyone’s panic to get him. 

Turning away from the scene of that disaster, Kanawha noticed a gathering of an odd group of states. Well, Washington and Alaska weren’t odd, those two could sometimes be as glued to the hip as Alaska and Hawai’i or Texas and Guam after that one incident with several bottles of super glue and an old World War II landmine that North Dakota gave them. 

But Illinois was with them, which was suspicious. Illinois has been an introvert since the beginning of the 20th century and prefers to hang out with the Old Northwest as opposed to the Pacific Northwest.

“Do I want to ask?” Kanawha asked as she approached them. “Lask wants to talk to his half-brother. I’m here for moral support.” Illinois said.

“Didn’t someone die the last time you were moral support?” Kanawha asked. Illinois shrugged and smirked, causing both of her brothers to roll their eyes.

“That was Ohio’s fault.” Washington signed.

“Don’t make excuses. I killed that man,” Illinois said calmly.

“Oh, for fucks sake Noi.” Alaska sighed, sounding so much like Dad at that moment that one could believe he was adopted.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to leave.” Kanawha said, stepping away and turning around, “Also, Vermont got Bama, so now you’re up, Washingmachine.”

Kanawha couldn’t see what her brother signed, but she was sure it was a swear.

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 34

Human Perspective (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Sometimes, America wished he could talk to more of his human friends about things. Get a second opinion. Maybe then America would feel more qualified to make the decisions he did.

Unfortunately, letting anyone know his human face was too risky. His human friends were the only bit of normalcy he had, and he didn’t want to give that up. Even if it would be funny to piss off all the white supremacists by showing them that America was mixed in human form.

“Listening to the others?” America’s friend and the only human in the past two centuries to ever know his face, Rowan asked.

“Thinking about how to piss off the white supremacists again.” America said at the same time James began complaining about how America didn’t listen, “Although James thinks I don’t listen.”

“He’s right. You don't. You spend too much time in your own head and not enough time in the real world, and that warps your judgment. You need to learn that not everything is on you. You have your states for a reason.” Rowan said, raising an eyebrow.

America looked away, not…just not wanting to accept that. He was the most powerful country in the world. He had…he couldn’t appear weak. If there was anything he was grateful to learn from his father, it was that. 

“But Da—”

“Stop thinking about what he taught you when you were a kid. You know he didn’t have your best interests at heart. You know that he hurt you. He’s still hurting you when you cling so tight to what he made you think.” Rowan said, making America regret that so much of his childhood had become public knowledge.

“They’re right, you know.” James chimed in.

“Can we get back to the original purpose of our conversation? How to explain the asshole from the South to my coworkers?” America said, trying not to mention names, as they were in public, and America was not going to get found out because he was being an idiot in a New York bagel shop.

“We will finish that conversation one day, Finn,” Rowan said. America pretended not to hear them.

“They said we will finish this con—” Unorganized Territory began, reminding America of the fact that he could read some of America’s thoughts.

“Trust me, Dad, I don’t want to. At least you’re ace.” Unorganized Territory joked, causing an embarrassed blush to work its way up America’s face at the implications of that sentence.

“Nize. You’re killing me. Why?” America said, causing Rowan to laugh at me.

“I very much want to know what he said to get that reaction out of you.” They said, a smug smile on their face. America flipped them off, provoking another laugh before their expression faded to a more serious one.

“I’m no good with the complicated social rules of your workplace. Why exactly can’t you just tell them?” Rowan asked. America sighed.

“There’s nothing for him, and therefore he shouldn’t be here. And…well, it’s common courtesy not to mention…those fights to anyone who’s had one. It’s…painful in more ways than one. We prefer to bury them once they are gone and over,” America said, hoping that Rowan understood what I meant. Civil wars ripped nations apart. It was the worst kind of scarring. Spain, who had been born in one, born to be the dictator’s puppet, developed DID from all he had experienced.

“I see. So it’s not only people prying into something that you don’t and shouldn’t be talking about, but they are also going to be asking questions you don't have an answer to, and it could lead to panic about other people who are gone, coming back.” Rowan summarized. America nodded.

“But he never came back. He just never died,” Lydia corrected. 

“Especially those who have gone through it. I know that many people will panic and lose it, and…I don’t want to do that to them or me. You don’t…you don’t know what learning he was still alive did to me.” America said. He appreciated Rowan as a dear friend and confidant…but they would hate him if they ever met the real America and learned about what he had done.

“Not all of that is your fault.” James sighed.

“Product of my time isn’t an excuse,” America muttered back, hoping Rowan didn’t hear him.

“You are trying to get better! And you know just as well as I that y—” Unorganized Territory began before America cut him off.

“Please, Nize, not now,” America said.

“When Nize gets a body, if he wants to, he should pursue a career as a therapist. He sounds like he would be good at that.” Rowan said. America heard Nize laugh, and the sound brought a smile to his face.

“Tell Rowan that I appreciate that compliment, but there is no way I would do that.”

“He doesn’t think that’s wise,” America said before frowning.

“What’s on your mind, Finn?” Rowan asked.

“Everything. God, I feel like it’s the Cold War again. Way too many shitty moving parts that I can’t do anything about.” America said before sighing, “Do you think I can get away with never telling them? After all, he’s my problem.”

“You know them better than I do, Finnegan,” Rowan said with a shrug. America sighed.

“I know. That’s why I’m nervous.”

“Some people had to have realized it was him, right? You should at least fill them in if you don’t want them to tell the others.” Rowan suggested. America shook his head. None of them could know America didn’t have the strength to fix that problem. If Britain or England…

“Why do you still care what they think?” Lydia asked.

“I already asked everyone not to pry into it and leave me be,” America said. Rowan gave me a skeptical look.

“Are you sure that will keep them quiet?” Rowan asked.

“I’m hoping,” America said simply in response. No matter what America said, grudges and loose lips can always win out in the end. They usually did when it came to countyhumans. Spiting each other for petty, minor victories was what they were best at, after all.

“Talk to them, Finn. What’s the harm?” Rowan said. America snorted.

“I can’t…not when things are getting better.”

“You know that’s going to backfire, right?”

“I know.”

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 33

Stress (Wattpad | Ao3)

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The house hadn’t been this much of a mess in years. But with Texas’s dumbass move, it was like that one time Delaware and Maryland released hundreds of crabs in the house for last year's April Fools. Everyone was running around trying to get things done before getting out of the house and the country world as fast as they could, and Dad slowly began to be crushed under the stress of it all.

That’s why North Dakota had to check on Dad. Because North Dakota was afraid of what would happen if no one did. Dad and high amounts of stress were never a good combination.

So, with a small amount of nervousness, North Dakota opened the door to Dad’s room and walked in.

“You look like you need ibuprofen,” North Dakota said as he walked in. Dad looked exhausted, at least from an emotional standpoint, and was lying on his bed with his cat, Coffee on his face.

“I need my dad to learn to mind his own fucking business,” Dad said. North Dakota sighed. Of course, it was Britain. Regardless of whether or not he and Dad were allies or enemies, Britain always had some degree of influence over his moods.

“I can help with that, but he might not survive,” North Dakota told him. A new Britain would be better for the mental health of most of the world anyway.

Even though North Dakota knew killing him wouldn’t solve many of the issues he created. And he didn’t know what killing a replacement would do anyway. Could a soul be reused a third time?

“We can’t kill allies, Kota,” Dad said, his voice full of resignation, as he had given this lecture many times before. Mainly to Texas, New York, and Massachusetts, although all of them had been given that speech before. 

Well, everyone but Hawaiʻi. Dad would probably just help her cover up the murder. But then again, Dad always said she was more deserving of the privilege of murder than the rest of them because they had a history of abusing it. 

“But it’s Britain!” North Dakota argued simply for the sake of doing so.

“Still can’t kill him. I don’t feel like going to war on top of all my other bullshit.” Dad said, “Besides, if the others find out that they were being stupid about the fact that they were ignorant to the existence of my kids, which is already hurting their pride enough, and then said ‘secret’ kids murder a powerful country, I will get in a lot of trouble. And even if Unie really doesn’t control shit here, it’s still not fun having him on your ass.”

“Fair enough. I guess our pent-up anger towards other countries isn’t going to help you anymore. I heard about what Lou and New England did. Are you okay?” North Dakota asked, knowing that he probably wasn’t going to get an honest answer from his dad. Dad snorted.

“Am I ever?” Dad asked in a resigned tone.

“Dad.”

“I’m stressed. And frustrated. And…and I really wish I could be human.” Dad said, his voice full of longing. It was something that they all wished for. A lot. Humans had it easy. Even if they didn't think they had. Or thought that they had it better. But there was really nothing fun about living forever. All you got was more pain.

“Don’t we all? Sorry about causing you any unnecessary stress, though. If I have.” North Dakota told Dad. Dad waved his hand dismissively.

“You worry too much, Kota. It’s fine. Trust me, I'm used to it.” 

“Funny. You once said the same thing after being shot.” North Dakota said, crossing his arms as Dad scowled in response.

“Oh, come on, you're taking that out of context.” Dad protested. North Dakota snorted.

“Sure I am,” North Dakota said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. Dad scoffed but didn’t say anything else as he moved to sit up, picking up Coffee off his face. 

“Are you sure you don’t want any help? Like maybe I can help stop—wait, never mind that they won't listen to me.” North Dakota said, realizing that he would be no help in stopping conflicts as his siblings barely listened to their father, let alone each other. It was one of their many charms.

“Kicking people out would probably help decrease fighting between each other but cause a great increase in the amount of dead countries. There’s nothing we can do, Kota, aside from ride it out and hope for the best.” Dad said. North Dakota crossed his arms.

“I hate that plan. It always makes me feel like something bad is about to happen. Especially with how some countries will be.” North Dakota said. Dad waved a hand dismissively.

“I’m sure Rus—”

“You know that’s not who I'm talking about.” North Dakota said, prompting Dad to look away as his breath hitched, “I’m talking about Britain. He—”

“He won’t. He’s been getting help,” Dad said, in the tone of voice he always used when trying to end a conversation. North Dakota ignored it. Dad needed to hear this, even if he didn’t want to.

“That doesn’t mean he won’t do something stupid,” North Dakota said, meeting his father’s eyes. Britain still had way too much impact on the emotional states of his former colonies, something that all of them seemed to collectively agree to ignore. It wasn't healthy, and it was biting them in the ass. All of the newer states could agree on that. 

But even with their combined efforts, with the help of the states from other countries, nothing seemed to be able to break denial’s hold on them.

It was one hell of a fucking drug. 

“Yes, I can, Kota,” Dad said, standing up and taking a step forward. North Dakota took a step back, wings stretching out, brushing against the sides of Dad’s bedroom.

“The fact that you call him father says otherwise,” North Dakota pointed out. Dad scowled at that.

“He’s my fa—”

“You know that doesn’t matter when it comes to us. And that it’s better if we don’t have family. You disowned him once—”

“And I realized my mista—”

“Was it really a mistake?” North Dakota asked, finally shutting Dad up as he paused. He bit his lip, and North Dakota could practically see the others talking to him. Dad then shook his head and vanished, disappearing into the human world. North Dakota sighed.

So much for that conversation.

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 32

Systemic Woes (Wattpad | Ao3)

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“Sunny! We have a problem!” New Mexico yelled as she rushed into Arizona’s room.

“What is it, Xico?” Arizona asked, putting down her book.

“Our lovely Grandfather is attempting to follow Papa, Louis, and New England home, and Monty texted me asking if I can get you to distract Britain while they head home. Apparently, Britain was trying to manipulate Papa and being an ass.” New Mexico said.

“And why’d he text you and not me?” Arizona asked.

“Because you blocked everyone,” New Mexico answered.

“Oh right, I forgot about that. And I didn’t block everyone! Hawaii and her kids are still unblocked!” Arizona protested. New Mexico gave her a confused look.

“Why those six—seven—how many kids does Hawaii have again?” 

“Who knows? I bet Hawaii doesn’t even know.” Arizona answered, causing New Mexico to snort.

“Well, you ain’t wrong there.” New Mexico said. Arizona smiled.

“Whelp, time to go confront the former owner of my favorite bridge–”

“God, you’ve become unbearable since you figured that out.”

“—and help our family,” Arizona said. Clinging ever so tighter to the bond with her father, Arizona let herself be pulled to his location.

When she arrived, she was greeted by the sight of her father being guided along by Massachusetts. Britain was nowhere in sight.

“He left?” Arizona asked.

“He did. I guess therapy is working,” Vermont said, “Sorry about calling you all this way for nothing.”

“It’s okay,” Arizona said before turning to her father, who was clearly dissociating, “Is Dad okay?”

“He should be. I think he and Uncle James started arguing about Britain’s visiting rights. That was at least the topic of conversation that came up when he started to dissociate,” Massachusetts said, shooting a worried look at their father.

“Everyone’s a bit mixed up these days. I just hope that Britain doesn’t try and use it against Father,” Rhode Island said. Massachusetts shook his head.

“He won’t. The same way Britain wouldn’t want anyone using his OCD to hurt him, or use it against him, or things like that. Britain might not be the best person, but he’ll respect that if he knows what’s good for him,” Massachusetts said. Connecticut crossed his arms, a scowl marring his face.

“He better. It’s his fault that Dad even developed DID in the first place,” Connecticut said.

“What about Canada?” Maine asked, turning to Vermont, “Do you think he’ll back down.”

Vermont nodded.

“He still cares for Michigan, and he won’t want to mess that up. Which I told him would happen if he decided to be pushy about it. Both of them should back off about meeting us until we’re ready, I hope. I can see Canada trying to initiate contact with Michigan, so hopefully, the provinces can talk him out of that. I know Ontario said he would since he knows Michigan,” Vermont said, still looking troubled.

Arizona frowned. 

She was young, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit that, but oftentimes, it didn’t hit her just how young she was until she remembered the history before her. 

It was hard sometimes. 

Not that Arizona was a stranger to war. She had been born in it. A way to counteract the Confederate Arizona—the original Arizona—that had been created by the Confederacy. But, the trauma and mistrust with Canada and Britain happened long before her, and she did not carry the same fears as her siblings.

Looking over at nervous faces and her father’s distant gaze, Arizona wished she understood a little bit better.

“That’s good,” Massachusetts said with a nod.

“Dad mentioned the Confederacy. Do you think they will back off investigating that?” Arizona asked. She might not know the trauma with Britain and Canada, but she, like West Virginia, was a creation of the Civil War.

If they were going to manage those two, then Arizona would do her part and ensure the little parasite stayed out of their lives.

Or, at the very least, away from other countries. 

“I didn’t mention it to him. I didn’t want to… relight any curiosities,” Vermont said. 

“America said…America called him Alabama’s son. Hopefully, that will make them think it is another state or someone else.” Arizona turned to her father’s body, eyes narrowing as she tried to figure out who was fronting.

Uncle James called Dad by his human name. They didn’t have Caleb’s accent or Lydia’s soft-spoken voice. It wasn’t Unorganized Territory, as she called Dad, Dad so—

“Mabel?” New Hampshire guessed. The person fronting shook their head.

“No. It’s Conch. Sorry. The others are still discussing things like whether or not certain people should know where we live and just…trying to figure out semantics. I, personally, do not think people will look into what America said. It’s not uncommon for states to have children, you know,” Conch Republic said.

“People can still figure it out, especially if they decide to google it out of curiosity,” New Hampshire pointed out.

“Who cares that much?” Conch Republic asked.

“Just because they’re curious doesn’t mean they care. I’m just worried that it’ll mean people will discover that he’s alive and want answers because that’s a strange thing. We all know it,” Massachusetts said. Arizona crossed her arms.

“Dad should have killed him when he had the chance,” Arizona muttered.

“We should have killed him when we had the chance,” Rhode Island muttered. “Why was that Dad’s responsibility when we all knew he wasn’t going to do it.”

An uneasy silence fell.

“We can’t take back the pa–” Maine began before he was cut off by Massachusetts. 

“We were all too afraid of Father’s anger then, and we were still…confused by the new alters, and we all just wanted to keep our heads down to avoid ending up like the border states and the south–under martial law for no reason. So when Father said he wasn’t going to kill the Confederacy, we all backed down like cowards.” 

“We should have done something. Then we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Arizona said. Massachusetts sighed.

“It’s too late for that now.”

Arizona wished it wasn’t.

[weirdestbooks]

Secrecy and Deception Chapter 33

Enemy Movements (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Event: North Korea captures the USS Pueblo

Location: Sea of Japan

Date: January 23, 1968

Korea didn’t like to get angry. He didn’t like when he became ruled by his emotions, because he felt it made him act rashly and impulsively, something that never turned out well and wouldn’t endear him to other countries in the world.

But it was so hard not to be angry when he found out an American naval vessel had been in his territorial waters.

Yes, Korea was aware that his nautical sea boundary of fifty was larger than the international standard of twelve nautical miles, but there was only one reason that an American naval vessel would be in his waters.

To spy on him to help the Southern government gain an edge in the war. Or to do something equally as nefarious. Korea didn’t trust America’s government not to be up to something. 

The ship hadn’t exactly gone quietly either, as if it was trying to buy time for itself. Refusing to comply with Korea’s forces, and then after signaling that it would follow his ship back to Pyongyang, the ship stopped again and refused to enter into the Korean territorial waters recognized by the international community.

The ship followed after it was fired upon and followed again after that. Korea knew that the ship would be helpful, as it might help information that could aid him in his war against the southern government or at least figure out what the ship’s mission was. 

If the ship was in his waters, then Korea knew it had to contain classified information that America didn’t want him to know.

And…and not to ever admit how prideful he could be, Korea was excited to have captured an American ship. He was a small country that many nations looked down upon.

Yet Korea had captured an American ship with no damage to himself. He knew that America would be furious about it and that it could quite possibly harm the reputation of the American government. Korea was fine with all that.

Whether or not America tried to argue his way out of the situation he found himself in, Korea now had proof that America was willing to undermine Korea’s sovereignty and status as a country for his own personal gain. Korea didn’t have sympathy for that.

He despised people like that.

Even if Father was upset with Korea for having taken the action to attack and capture the American ship.

That had only made Korea angrier. 

How dare the USSR try to tell Korea what actions he could take to protect himself? How dare the USSR act like just because he was Korea’s country father, he could order Korea to do whatever he wanted. 

How dare he.

Korea hated feeling bullied. He hated feeling manipulated. He hated when people, human or country, tried to take advantage of him, to act as if Korea was some fool that was unable to see reason or sense, unable to exercise his own free will.

Korea didn’t want to restart the violence with his misguided southern brother no more than anyone else did. He wanted a peaceful solution to the violence and fear that the war had caused.  But at the same time, he couldn’t just let someone get away with violating his rights as a country and, therefore, his personhood as a country in the process.

Korea knew people were going to portray him as a bad person for this. He didn’t care. He had a right to look after his own sovereignty. Not to sound childish, but America started the whole situation, and now he could deal with the consequences of his actions.

Korea and a few other high-ranking officials were brought out to the American ship to board it. From what Korea had been informed, they had managed to take the crew prisoner and that one member of the crew had been killed in the initial action taken to capture the ship.

Korea expected, when he boarded the ship, to see a professional collection of his soldiers watching over the American prisoners.

But when he boarded the ship and saw that the American prisoners had been beaten, the anger that had been building inside of him erupted.

“If we torture our enemies for being our enemies,” Korea began with a low hiss, “They we are no better than the Japanese that tortured my people, my mother, and so many others during the Second World War.”

Korea, like all countries, could not claim to be an innocent man. He had killed. He had fought in a war. 

But if there was one thing he hated above all else, it was torture. It didn’t matter the kind of torture or why it was being done. It was a punishment that had been used to hold his people captive in the merciless hands of the Japanese, something that was done against his mother for daring to stand by her people, daring to defy her colonizer.

Korea didn’t live through that war. But he had heard his people’s stories. He didn’t want to be a country that was seen the same way as the Japanese Empire had been seen by his people. He wanted to be a fresh start, a future for his people, both those living in the land he had control over and those living in the land he didn’t have control over.

It didn’t matter what anyone said. Korea had never strayed from those beliefs.

He didn’t like the American crew, and he felt anger towards them, too.

But that didn’t mean he would compromise his morals for petty, savage, and heartless revenge.

“But sir, they were violating our—” One foolish soldier said, his voice quiet.

“It doesn’t matter what they did. They do not deserve to be harmed after they have surrendered and entered our waters, letting themselves be taken prisoner. Stand down,” Korea ordered. The soldier backed down, and one of Korea’s officials cleared his throat.

“Perhaps this is not an argument that we should be getting into right now, sir,” He said. Korea exhaled, trying to get his temper back under control.

“I want my position to be clear on that,” Korea said. The official nodded.

“Of course. But this is not your problem to worry about. You do not need to be the one handling this. I can take care of it,” the official said. Korea sighed, knowing that it was a losing battle and not wanting to project discord to the American prisoners.

“I know. I am…I am proud of you all for taking this ship. I’m confident it will be an event well-remembered in our history,” Korea said, slipping into the tone he always took when handling things involving the public.

Despite his disappointment and anger that his people would be willing to sacrifice their own humanity in order to punish the Americans, he was still proud of what had been achieved. 

They had just given the Americans a reason to be afraid of them, to be more cautious in their interactions.

Korea wasn’t a spineless pushover.

He had never been.  

• ───────────────── •

Event: Soviet Red Army crush Czechoslovakian revolt

Codename: Operation Danube

Location: Tirana, People's Republic of Albania

Date: August 21, 1968

Albania often wondered if the USSR realized how much his grip on Albania had slipped. Albania still felt constraints on his mind, but as the days passed, they grew less connected to the USSR and more to his government.

He knew the USSR must realize that something was slipping, with how they had begun to have disagreements, not just as people, but their governments feuding as well. A strange little dance was playing out between the two of them, one that Albania knew would eventually break him from the other.

The argument hadn’t started as anything drastic but one that Albania saw coming. The feud had begun when Stalin died, as Albania’s government believed that caused a period in which the USSR became too liberal. Then, the USSR tried to insert his influence, telling Albania that he needed to focus on agriculture, something that would have hurt Albania’s industry. 

His government said no, and now things had become fraught. 

It didn’t help that Albania still had positive feelings about America, nor that Yugoslavia was off having dreams of imperialist delusion. 

Sooner or later, something would have to give. 

In the end, however, the USSR was the one that sent everything crumbling to the ground. 

Czechoslovakia had started to become too liberal in the USSR’s mind. His control over her was slipping, the communists in her country starting to lose power.

So he decided that the Warsaw Pact was going to invade her country to “help her.” Even in Albania’s addled mental state, he knew that it was wrong. Hell, even some of the communist leaders in his country hadn't been in favor of it.

So, Albania and Romania had both refused to participate in the invasion.

Poland, Bulgaria, and Hungary had. Poland, who was born a puppet, always had a hard time resisting the USSR. Hungary’s mind had been broken into obedience the last time he tried to revolt, so he followed as well. Bulgaria…well, Bulgaria was just trying to keep his head down.

East Germany was German, and Czechoslovakia had been one of Nazi Germany’s puppets, so she was allowed to sit it out. 

It felt strangely comical.

It was equally as funny that the USSR’s attempt to draw one of his puppets in closer resulted in the loss of another. Albania’s government didn’t just dislike the invasion of Czechoslovakia. They full-on condemned it.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Albania was on the same side as the United States. 

Not only that, but he was pulling out of the Warsaw Pact. Maybe he would stay communist. Maybe his government would still continue to be controlling of him.

But there was a tiny bit of freedom on the horizon. It was like Albania had some of his free will back after so long.

Albania prayed for Czechoslovakia. He prayed for his future.

As tragic as everything was, things seemed to be getting better.

Albania only hoped it stayed that way. 

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 31

He Just Wants An Explanation (Wattpad | Ao3)

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“America, just wait for me. I demand an explanation!” Britain said, rushing after America and his states. They were walking incredibly quickly, and Britain had to jog to reach them.

“We don’t have to tell you shit, Limey. You deserve nothing from us, not after all that you’ve done to us!” The short one, Rhode Island, snapped. Britain bit down his initial surge of anger, breathing out deeply.

They were rude because they had reason to be. This didn’t mean they didn’t have manners. It meant that they had grown up with one of Britain’s former victims and had reason to be scared.

“I’ve never met any of you before today. How could I have done any incredibly horrible things to you? While I would understand the anger of states I have met, I have not met you personally until now,” Britain said, tone civil. He didn’t really want a fight, but he hated it when people were angry at him based on history that they were not a part of and acted like an event before they were born was a personal offense. 

“Oh yes, they did. The states used to be alters in this system. Much of New England was part of the original thirteen colonies. I’m sure you can figure it out from there.” America snapped. Britain paused before nodding.

“I see. So, we have met before,” Britain said, feeling shame and guilt swirling in his stomach, his ears pressing close to the side of his head.

“We have,” Massachusetts said, his voice cold. Britain swallowed.

“I’m sorry,” Britain said, knowing it would sound hollow, knowing that they would not forgive him.

But…they had the right not to. He hurt them.

Britain couldn’t make them forgive him. 

That didn’t mean he wanted to know them any less.

“Hey, Father, why don’t we just head home and ignore this fucking limey. We both know what he wants,” Massachusetts said, tugging on his Father’s arm, trying to pull America away from the conversation.

“No, Mass—” America was cut off by Massachusetts yanking down on his arm before the state whispered something in his ear. America sighed as Massachusetts let go of his ear.

“I know, Mass, I know, you’re right.” America eventually said, as Massachusetts let go of him and smiled.

“That’s what being Father part two electric boogaloo gets me,” Massachusetts said, causing the rest of New England to groan. 

Britain didn’t understand what that meant, but he couldn’t tell if it was something they were annoyed by or something they hated. Despite the fact that Americans seemed to wear their hearts on their sleeves, Britain couldn’t read anything from them.

America had taught them something. How to hide.

Britain made that a necessity.

“Mass, congratulations. You’ve officially made me want to stop calling you Dad.” Connecticut said, confusing Britain further. America was their father, was he not? Why were these states joking about Massachusetts being their father?

“And proven further why I’m smart and not calling you dad. That’s a thirteen plus Ohio and Tennessee thing.” Maine said, wrapping his arm around Massachusetts’ shoulder.

“But Maine, you could’ve literally been my son!” Massachusetts insisted.

“Ah, because Maine was a part of your state,” Britain remembered before a thought came to him. “Was there a personification for the Maine that existed when you were colonies? Massachusetts flinched. Not a big flinch, but he still flinched regardless.

“There was. She’s gone,” Massachusetts said. A small pang of pain hit Britain in his chest. He knew there were more failed colonies. How many had died?

“May I…may I have a list of names? I would like to ensure they have a place in the graveyard,” Britain offered, hoping the olive branch could help tensions.

“They already have graves,” Connecticut said, voice harsh.

“Then may I at least go to them and apologize for not knowing them?” Britain asked. America shook his head.

“No. It’s at my house, and I’m sure you can understand why I don’t want you there,” America said. Britain nodded. That was a boundary he could understand. Their home was their safe space. If interacting with him was going to bring up bad memories for some now that he knew of them, the least he could do was help ensure a place where they would never have to worry about him. 

“I understand. Someday, then?” Britain asked. 

“Maybe. James and Rebecca are still hesitant. I want…” America trailed off, eyes growing distant. Britain took a few steps back, just in case.

“Father?” Massachusetts said, immediately at his father’s side, sliding his hand into his father’s and giving it a few gentle squeezes. America’s eyes remained distant.

“This has been stressful,” Vermont snapped, “The least you can do is back off.”

“I want to be there for my son—”

“You lost the right to call him your son the minute you used his martial law to manipulate him into an unquestioning loyal colony. You lost the right the minute you refused to tell Papa about our Grandma!” New Hampshire yelled.

“Oh, so his mother,” Britain began, hissing out the last word, “is Grandma, but I’m just Britain?”

He couldn’t help but be angry at that. They never got to meet her, but here he was, available and willing to be there for them, and they spurn him for a dead woman not even America knew?

How could he not be angry?

But just like his therapist said, Britain tried to calm his anger. The worst of his crimes always occurred when he was mad. He needed to stay calm to keep it civil.

“She didn’t abuse us,” Rhode Island said, arms crossed. Britain clenched his fists before pressing his palms into his eyes, trying to keep calm and keep himself together.

“I am sorry,” Britain said, “I thought I was helping, so no one would…I know it was bad. I’m sorry.” Britain said, knowing the apology was all he could offer. 

“We know you are,” Massachusetts said, “But that doesn’t mean we owe you anything. Goodbye, Britain.”

Massachusetts’ dismissal was clear, and Britain sighed but stepped away regardless.

He had said what he needed to.

Well, most of what he needed to.

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 30

Guilt (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Seeing Louisiana brought up memories France had long suppressed. Memories that France was content to forget. 

France didn’t know how to explain this in a way that wouldn’t increase Louisiana’s already present hatred for her.

Why do you care now? You’ve never cared if others hated you before! 

Maybe France didn’t…but this was her family. She deserved an answer.

“I let the power I had go to my head. I was…still not widely respected, a woman and sinner, and…negotiating with America made me feel…like I was an empire. The Napoleonic wars gave me that feeling. And…well, I was willing to do a lot to keep that feeling. Instead, I hurt most of the people around me,” France answered, honest as she always was.

“Well, it certainly made you a massive asshole. Not that my grandmother was any better. She was also a massive, manipulative asshole. It must be a family trait because me and the rest of New France were the same way. Especially Nada. My brother might have the face of an angel, but he’s a real demon.” Louisiana said with a small smile. Relief filled France. For once, France didn’t see anger in her. She looked like the happy person she had been when France knew and lived with her.

Maybe there was hope of fixing things after all. Louisiana must have caught the look on France’s face and quickly began scowling again.

“You’re still a piece of shit, don’t forget that La France l'assassin d'enfants.” Louisiana quickly snapped, crossing her arms.

“Very few people want me to forget that Louisiana,” France said. She had hurt many people in her quest for power. Very few ever fully forgave her. France was still sort of surprised Britain had.

Then again, sex was a powerful motivator. And they still disagreed constantly. Enemies with benefits was perhaps a better moniker.

“Good. You shouldn’t. People can forgive you, but that doesn’t stop you from being a piece of suit. It doesn’t stop you from having nearly killed me. If it was any other nation—”

“You might have just remained a colony like you had been when Spanish Empire took you and tried to make you his. You’ve survived not being French before, and I knew America wasn’t immediately going to make you a state. I know selling you was a shitty, shitty move, but Louisa, were you really so convinced you would die immediately?” France asked. 

Louisiana’s eyes widened, and France felt some smugness overtake her. She did ask America if Louisiana would die. America had shrugged and simply said that he wasn’t sure but that he had no intentions of letting her.

France knew then that she was ending her mother’s dreams of controlling large parts of the American continent, but France didn’t really have a choice. Louisiana was the last trace of that dream. Maybe that’s why France both hated her and loved her.

France didn’t know what she was thinking or how she really felt. The years had ground away at those memories, especially since, in the grand scheme of her history, they did not matter. France was so focused on following Napoleon to glory and spending time with her girlfriend that she thought about few other things.

“Louisiana! Are you here?” France suddenly heard America’s voice call from the front porch. Louisiana’s surprised and angry expression almost immediately relaxed, and she turned to the front door with a smile.

“I’m here, Popá! Just getting some answers! But don’t worry—” Louisiana said, turning her head to glare at France before her voice lowered to a hiss, “I’ve learned everything I needed to know.”

“Maybe if you just listened, we could work something ou—” France began before she was cut off by another voice.

“Harassing my son, France?” France heard America’s voice say, much closer this time. France looked away from her niece’s face and saw America standing there.

“Did you break into my house?” France exclaimed. America nodded.

“Don’t worry, we only picked the lock!” Another voice said. The voice was female, and another country appeared to be in her early twenties, roughly the same age as France and appeared from behind America. She had a mischievous smile on her face.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Hamp, you’ve gotta teach me how to pick locks.” Louisiana said, walking up to the girl. France rubbed at her face, annoyed. Of course, America’s children would behave this way.

It made sense, but that didn’t mean she liked it.

“Sorry, my dear. I couldn’t stop them!” France then heard Britain's voice say as he entered the room. France sighed. 

“It’s alright,” France said, walking over to give him a peck on his forehead. Britain gave her a slightly dopey smile, the same one he always did when France kissed him, and France rolled his eyes. What a fool he was.

“This is so weird. France, stop flirting with my father in front of me.” America said, causing Britain to blush and look away from France.

“You’re the reason we got married, America,” France said calmly, even though half of it was to please other people. America shook his head.

“Accidentally. I just wanted to piss you two off. Getting married was not part of that agenda.” America said, causing the states that had been collecting around him to giggle.

“Hawaii thinks it’s the perfect solution to their bitch assery,” One of the states, a man who looked to be in his late twenties. France smiled. Of course she did. It was nice to know the little duckling had grown herself a spine.

Even if it was far too late for it to be useful.

But useful things always came later than anyone wanted.

“It’s nice to know that she still hates me. Perhaps I should have been talking things out with her instead of with you, Louisiana,” France joked. Britain frowned.

“What do you mean? When did you meet the new Hawaiʻi?” Britain asked. France turned to look at him, startled.

“What do you mean? There is no new hawaiʻi. The state was the kingdom,” France explained. Britain’s eyes widened, and when he spoke next, his voice was vulnerable.

“So Sandy…she’s really alive.”

“Of course she is. You think I would let her die?” America asked with a small scoff. 

“I need to see her,” Britain said, turning to America.

“You don’t deserve or need anything. Answers, to see them, nothing. You stay the hell away, you hear me?” America said, voice angry.

“I do deserve answers,” Britain said. America shook his head.

“No, you don’t,” America said. And with those final words, he turned to leave.

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 29

Cussing Out Your Aunt (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Louisiana had never been more grateful for the fact that New England was a bunch of predictable dumbasses. They all left and caused such a commotion in doing so that it was so easy to sneak away and fly to France’s house, the house having been shown to Louisiana by Saarland a few years ago.

Louisiana needed to resolve some unfinished business with her aunt. France, the child murderer, needed to face her sins and realize that not all the subdivisions and children France had tried to kill were actually dead. Louisiana needed closure. She needed to know if she regretted “killing me.”

Maybe Louisiana could also get closure for her cousins, the bulk of children killed by her aunt.

Louisiana landed on the front yard and, marched to the door, and began banging at the door.

“FRANCE! COME OUT!” Louisiana yelled in Louisiana Creole, hoping that her aunt would come out and talk to her before Popá and her siblings found out that Louisiana was gone. She had already told the French territories about what she had planned, and French Polynesia had told Louisiana they were all out of the house.

“Hello? Who are you? What do you want?” France asked in her language as she opened the door.

“Salut France. Forgotten me so soon?” Louisiana asked, crossing her arms. Recognition didn’t come to her eyes, and Louisiana scowled as she realized France really had forgotten her.

“Who—”

“Who do you think?” Louisiana asked, causing France’s eyes to widen. France stepped aside, letting Louisana enter, which she did, but not before shoulder-checking France in the process.

"Rude…” Louisiana heard France mumble in her language from behind her. France sounded almost impressed. Louisiana hated it.

“I think I deserve to be rude. After all, the last time we met, you sold me off in a situation where you thought I would get killed and did so without a single shred of remorse. I mean, I don’t know why I expect you to care, considering what you’ve done to your children, but I thought maybe you’d at least hesitate, considering I’ve known you all your life. I’m not here to reconnect with you. I’m here to get closure.” Louisiana said, turning to face France and crossing her arms.

Guilt briefly flashes across France’s face, and she crosses her arms, sighing.

“America—” Louisiana cut France off before she could blame her dad. Popá and Louisiana had already talked about this and resolved all the differences in opinion about the purchase. Louisiana understood his reasoning. Louisiana still didn’t know her aunt’s reasoning.

That’s what she wanted. Not excuses. The real, actual, true reasoning.

“Popá just wanted New Orleans. You were the one who offered to sell the rest of me. That wasn’t his decision, even though he did take the deal. Besides, from Popá’s point of view, I would live and become a state. From yours, I would just die. So tell me, la tante, how do you justify that?” Louisiana asked, wings spreading out to make her look larger. 

“I needed the money,” France said. Louisiana smiled slightly. She knew it. It was just glad that Louisiana had confirmation, something she had never had before. 

France was a piece of work, but at least she was honest. 

“I know,” Louisiana said in response. France looked caught off guard by that.

“Then why storm in here and ask that if you already knew?”

“Like I said, closure. Besides, Aunt, I…I wanted to know why…I wanted to know how selling me made you feel. Did you regret it? Did you…did you ever think about me after the fact? Look back and wish you hadn’t killed your niece? I was the last part of Nouvelle-France! He might have already been dead, but still!” Louisiana shouted as she began to ramble about all the doubts and thoughts she had about this. Louisiana tried to hold back her tears, but one could tell from her voice that she wanted to cry.

France looked even more caught off guard and was silent. Louisiana curled her hands into fists and tried her best to hold back tears. But it was getting harder. Maybe Louisiana should have done this with Popá as he wanted to. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Louisiana snapped, trying to hide her hurt behind anger. It was easier that way. 

“Why are you so mad at me? It seems like you like your precious ‘popá’ more than you ever liked living with me.” France finally said.

That made it both easier and harder for Louisiana to hide her hurt behind anger, as both increased with those words.

“THAT DOESN'T MEAN I DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHY YOU WANTED ME DEAD!” Louisiana yelled, the dam breaking, as a few tears began to roll down her face, “You sold me off in a situation where you knew I would most likely die. Whether or not my life was better after being sold doesn't matter. What does matter is the fact that you basically abandoned me to die, seemingly without a second thought. But what else should I have expected from La France l'assassin d'enfants?”

“La Franc—do people actually call me that?” France asked, once again refusing to give an answer to the question Louisiana wanted answered so badly. Now Louisiana knows why she and Britain ended up falling in love.

“I mean, they aren’t wrong. You’ve killed so many children. Most were your own, and some…some weren’t. Some were like me. Did you ever care about them? About any of us?” Louisiana asked. France remained silent.

Louisiana hated that France was being silent when Louisiana wanted her honesty so badly. 

Louisiana never wished she had Hawaii’s fire more.

“Please just say something! You don't have to say anything nice to try and make me feel better, poufiasse. I know you are a piece of shit. I know you used most of us for political and economic gain. If you don’t fucking care for me, say it! I know you didn’t care! You don't have to pretend you do!” Louisiana spat out.

“I do care, Louisiana. I promise you. But…my government wouldn’t listen to me. It’s the price I pay for being queer and…overeager.”

Louisiana paused and then exhaled.

“I believe you.” 

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 28

Worry (Wattpad | Ao3)

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District of Columbia was not acting like Nebraska expected her to. She was usually the one who worried and worried and worried over everything until she had thought of all the ‘what ifs.’

But she wasn’t doing that. She was strangely calm about everything. Nebraska thought at first that maybe she was dissociating again, but she wasn’t. It was strange, and it wasn’t helping his anxiety. 

Nebraska felt like every country was trying to target them now. It was an unreasonable fear, sure, but Nebraska has had issues with anxiety and paranoia for a long time. It was an issue that made it very hard for him to deal with things like this without panicking. Normally, Nebraska took comfort in District of Columbia going over every scenario so Nebraska could be reassured that he could be prepared for any situation, but she wasn’t doing that, and he hated it, and it wasn’t normal.

Was District of Columbia okay? Stealing his nerves, Nebraska approached my sister, hoping that he wouldn’t irritate her by attempting to figure out what was wrong.

“Hello, Nebraska.” District of Columbia said, a strand of her hair falling into her face as her fingers tapped rapidly over her keyboard.

“Hey, Dee. Are you okay?” Nebraska asked. She paused in her typing and gave him a confused look.

“Yes? Why are you asking?” District of Columbia asked, confusion plain in her tone.

“Because you are acting weird and not freaking out over the what-ifs of everything like you normally do. It’s…unnerving.” Nebraska said, internally wincing at his last sentence. He definitely could have worded that better.

“I don’t always do that.” District of Columbia insisted.

“Yes, you do. Especially if something bad is about to happen, like now.” Nebraska pointed out. District of Columbia frowned.

“Nothing bad is going to happen.” District of Columbia said. Nebraska scoffed at that.

“Dee, come on, I know you. You have to realize that something bad is going to happen. We’re not popular, and it's only a matter of time before someone tries something. What if they find out what happened to you and try to use it against you? You might not be the government, but you are the capital district, and that’s a good enough reason to make someone target you.” Nebraska said. District of Columbia flinched, and Nebraska saw her close her eyes.

“Please don’t mention that.” District of Columbia said quietly. Nebraska felt guilt grow in his stomach. He knew bringing that up was a bit of a low blow, but he needed to know what his big sister felt about all this. She didn’t seem bothered, and that scared him. She was always nervous or bothered about something.

“Sorry Dee…I’m just worried.” Nebraska said. District of Columbia sighed.

“I can’t think of any of us who aren’t. But…things will work out. Hurting one of us would provoke anger and possibly a war. Few are dumb enough to attempt that. And it's not like we were the best-kept secret. I…if I overthink things, I’m just going to make my paranoia worse. So I'm trying not to do that. You should try it, too.” District of Columbia said. Nebraska began tapping his fingers against his leg, a nervous habit he had developed.

“This is me trying, Dee. I just…there’s a lot we want to keep private. Certain events, yes, but also certain people who are still alive when they shouldn’t be. They’ve already seen him! It’s only a matter of time before something goes wrong with that. I know you’ve never trusted that he’s changed. Dad may think so, but he also saved Dad’s life.” Nebraska said, keeping his voice quiet, afraid of the reaction of certain states if they heard this.

“And you don’t think that’s trustworthy?” District of Columbia asked, looking Nebaksa over with inquisitive eyes.

“I don’t think he did it with good intentions. Dad’s let him know more than I think she should. If someone finds out about him, or he goes to someone, he has a lot of secrets he can tell.” 

“I never pegged you as one to think that way.” District of Columbia said. Nebraska scowled; not sure if that was an insult or a compliment.

“His people hurt my twin. I’ve never liked him, and I’ve kept an eye on him because of it. I don’t have proof something is wrong…but I feel like there is. At the very least, I want someone—not the South, they’re biased, but someone to keep an eye on him.” Nebraska said, crossing his arms.

“He’s already left Braska. He told Bama he wanted to ‘lie low.’ I don’t know where he is now.” District of Columbia said. Nebraska groaned and pressed his hands into his face before exhaling a slow breath. His anxiety grew, and he didn’t know if he wanted to cry or scream.

“Can I hug you, Dee?” Nebraska asked. District of Columbia nodded slowly. Nebraska slowly pulled her into a hug, moving slowly so as not to trigger any of her PTSD. Maryland did that once. It was terrifying to see.

“Sorry about being pushy.”

“You aren’t pushy. Just worried. I think everyone is, no matter how much we try to hide it. However, as much wrong could happen from this, there are positives. Old grudges and incidents can be put to rest. Ana is already planning to work through the issues she and her aunt have. Vermont gets to figure out where he stands with Canada, and New England will probably commit murder.” 

“While dressed like a bunch of boys going to church on Sunday,” Nebraska commented, causing District of Columbia to laugh as she pulled away.

“The day they aren’t dressed like that is a day of extreme concern for me.” District of Columbia said.

“What are you typing, anyways?” Nebraska asked, looking at her computer to see a half-written email.

“Informing the states who are back in their states what’s going on. And Kalahui, although she never seems to read my emails. Ever.” District of Columbia said. Nebraska laughed.

“That's Kalahui for you. Not a fan of any of us. I’m glad she’s started to warm up to us, though. She’s a very ambitious and nice girl when she isn’t yelling about how you ruined her life before she was born.” Nebraska commented. District of Columbia slapped him lightly on the arm.

“Be nice, ya Cornhusker. Kalahui is well within her right to not like us.” Nebraska raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright, alright, I know. You are very good at thinking of others. You know that?”

“I know. I’ve never been allowed to have time for myself. Why don't you see if you can get in contact with Confederacy if you are so worried? I have things I need to do after this letter.” District of Columbia said. Frowning slightly at the dismissible, Nebraska turned to leave, shooting one last worried glance at his sister.

Nebraska really did hope she was alright.