They say that New York is the city that never sleeps.
What they never say is that because of it, America is prone to waking up randomly in the middle of the night in search of a ham sandwich with liver and horseradish toppings. They also never mention how he will then take that questionable meal with him as he wanders about his rather extensive house in search of relief for another incurable bout of insomnia.
It always led him to this room for some reason. In the deepest recesses of his psyche reserved for self reflection (and ultimately for this reason hardly ever used) Alfred supposes that he secretly still harbored scars from his past, which as of yet remained unsettled. Crushing this thought, however, was the much louder call for the room to be emptied and forgotten.
Why though always remained a mystery; it wasn't like he needed the room for anything, and he had hundreds of identical ones exactly like it in the house.
Holding his sandwich between his teeth America fished a key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock on the door. With a small click and a quick turn of the knob the lock gave way, sliding inwards with the door to expose a very dusty and cluttered room.
England had a room like this at his house and once had even shown it to the young colonial American. It was full of swords on shelves, all chipped and tarnished from countless battles. Different suits of cloths stood on display next to neat little place cards outlining their importance and historical value.
An entire room depicted Shakespeare, even an original portrait which England refused to let out of his sight. Sir Frances Drake, the Crusades with Richard the Lion Heart, thousands of rooms and more for each chapter of England's life. There had even been a wing entirely devoted to burning Protestants under Bloody Mary and King Henry's establishment of the Church of England.
"You have to remember all of your history, even the parts you don't like," England counseled the young colony, "Even if it puts you at the but of some jokes, it's all still apart of you. To be ashamed of it is to be ashamed of yourself."
America gazed around it blankly; every item contained within this room created the country he was today. He wanted nothing more than to forget about it all and pretend that he had always just been the hero, but every time he tried he found that he just couldn't forget and throw it all away.
Closing his eyes, he sighed, and thoughtfully chewed on the last bite of his ham liver concoction. France's comfort food had nothing on America's.
Sighing again Alfred straightened his glasses and strode with confidence he didn't feel into the room. He brushed past a box of wooden soldiers and a musket quietly gathering dust from where he had placed them from the last time he had tried to clean.
The room was much bigger than it first appeared, with all the stuff cluttering it, so it didn't take Alfred long to leave the circle of light provided by the open door and trip over something.
"Ouch!" he rubbed his foot, glaring around through misty eyes for the perpetrator strong enough to harm a country. His eyes froze and they met steel bars, heavy and unblemished save for a spot near the middle where they bowed inwards as if having been pulled. He gulped as memories; too unpleasant to be uttered clawed their way to his mind's surface.
"Now whatever you do," America instructed the blue clothed soldier, "No matter what I say or threaten, don't open the door. I-" his voice broke, losing some of it's bold confidence, "I don't know what's going to happen till this is all over and I don't want to mess up any more of Mr. Lincoln's new rooms."
Hesitantly the guard nodded, snapping a smart salute, "Yes sir." He turned to go, not expecting the screams thrown at his back.
"No, let me out! I need to do this!" the soldier turned, eyes wide in horror and fear at the unearthly wail.
"No, a strong central government is best states shouldn't be separate in their laws, this has to stop!"
"No I need this! I'm going to fight, it is unfair!"
"Stop it, no I'm not!"
"Oh ya, well screw you, you union b$8%#!"
"What? Don't you talk to me like that, come back here and say that to my face! I'll have this finished in a week, tops!"
America flung himself at the bars of his cell, glasses haphazardly hanging from one ear, mouth bleeding from his gnashing teeth. The only human in the room crossed him and ran terrified from the rabid countries' presence, screaming something about demon possession.
America shuddered and stumbled back, body colliding with another pile of memories. A faded scarf slithered into his lap, ready to tangle his legs even further.
"Da, I'm sorry to say it will hurt you much, these so called revolutions are quite painful."
"I-I'm j-just glad you're here. I n-need a friend right now."
The Russian smiled too sweetly. "My Navy won't be here for long, we're just having some trouble with Poland."
"Oh," the young nation curled tighter into himself inside his self imposed prison. "Then shouldn't you be over there?"
Russia chuckled, "You show you youth, little one. We are countries, not humans. Laws of nature to them are mere suggestions to us." He chucked again at the younger figure's questioning gaze, "Da, I am there, but I am also here with my people. They carry me with them."
Clutching his heart America tried to free himself from the debris around himself, hands clawing towards the lighted door.
America looked up from his fevered haze, glassed Texas mysteriously absent from his torn face. "What?"
Russia giggled again like a child with a secret, "You will understand when you are older."
"Oh," he drifted away again, eyes glazed as they stared out of his barred window. "I guess its alright if you stay for a while then…"
"I don't like Grant's plan! More of my people will just get killed!" The blue-eyed country bawled, face pressed up against the bars of his cell.
"It's the only way, son. We have to win and keep this country together. You of all people should appreciate that," the bearded man 's tall top hat balanced precariously on his dark brown hair as he spoke, eyes sharp.
"Yes I know that but," his breath hitched and he changed mid thought. "Thank you for what you did, with the- I know its not really what the war was about in the first place, but I still appreciate it, sir."
The man smiled, "I was exercising my power as president."
The young man grimaced at that. "Ya, uh, they're not happy about that, Congress I mean. They said you're-"
"Never mind what they said. What do you think."
America's eyes looked distant and cloudy, "I- I don't know."
America panted heavily flat on his back in the gloom, eyes wildly darting as ghosts continued to assail his vision. "No!" he half screamed in a whisper, "Not this one! I hate this one!" pale grey and blue figures stampeded across his vision battle cries ringing in the air. Atlanta burned along the coast, Gettysburg ran red- every death a stab in his heart-
"Hey, England!" America hunched expectantly from behind a tree.
"Hu? Oh, America? What are you doing here?" the British country peered at his former colony.
"Shh! Not so loud, he'll hear us!"
"Who?"
"The Union!" America's gold-rimmed glasses sparkled dangerously as he spoke.
"Uh, America, isn't the Union apart of you?"
"No, yuck, I'm the Confederates! I came to ask for your help against that guy! I just managed to escape where he locked me up, if he wakes up right now he'll take us both back."
England took a hesitant step back. "America, you're not thinking clearly right now, you're going through the worst kind of revolution, and as much as I enjoy seeing you like this, I can't help."
America looked livid. "What? Why not? My troops are all expecting you! I'll lose unless you show up! I thought you liked me, look how much cotton and stuff I sell you!"
England frowned deeply. "No America, I don't agree with… either of you! I'm not going to get involved, now leave me alone!"
"But-!"
"No!"
The young country snarled at his former caretaker's back. "Ya well who needs you, I know you'll see things my way and help me! Just you wai-" his voice strangled to a halt, and he threw himself into the brush, glasses sliding from his nose.
"Hu? What am I doing here?" Frightened blue eyes darted around the forest. "I'm in-" His eyes went white. "Oh no. Oh nonononononono!" Springing to his feet he stumbled away, careless of the sharp brush scratching his legs.
"State's rights, state's rights- a national government goes against a state's individual freedom!" the country chanted, eyes delirious. The topic had never really been settled and bounced around his skull on occasion, especially now with some of his states making laws of abortion and marriage.
He stumbled from the storage room tripping over the doorway to crash face down in the hall. The darkness clawed at his ankles threatening to pull him back into the room's madness. Legs flailing America kicked the door shut. It thumped shut, dust muffling the sound.
Limbs shaking the country took a few deep breaths before attempting to once again stand. He leaned heavily against the wall as he limped back to his bedroom, but not before he remembered to once again tightly lock the ancient room.
When he awoke the next day, this night of memories would be less than a dream suited only to haunt the edges of his eye in nightmares.
Sighing heavily America flopped into his bed, leaving a string of lights on in his wake.
After all, ghosts hate bright lights, right?
?
Historical Notes.
Russia's fleet stayed the winter near America during the Civil War, because they currently were having a disagreement with France and England over Poland. Officially they were not there to support the Union, they just didn't want their fleet to be trapped if negotiations turned violent. However this didn't stop others from assuming that if England did go to support the Confederates that Russia would attack. This was before the Russian revolution.
Officially England refused to join the war because they did not approve of slavery, as well as some other such political junk. Hurrah for always taking the moral high ground out Iggy.
Lincon was accused of pulling too much power to the presidency, and Congress wasn't too happy about that.
Honestly the Civil war was over a state's rights compared to a federal government. Slavery was just a rather large topic covered under laws made by a state which a federal government wnted to change but the states didnt. Like all wars it was much more complex that that, but I felt that that was worth highlighting as a major issue.