It was 1865- the last time Jackson J. Jones had been able to freely wander around the country in the body of his other half. As soon as the orders for the laying down of arms had been signed sealed and delivered Jackson gave one last look to the sky and muttered a curse as he felt his mind fading and his conscious state being forced into the place he referred to as 'The Black Box.'
"Ya'll better mark my words Alfred F. Jones," He muttered bitterly in his southern twanged voice. "I am never gonna fade away. As long as there are folks in the south that still support my ways I will remain. You may have the control, but I'll always be at the back of your mind just waitin' for a chance to rise up again." He breathed out a long heavy sigh along with a cloud of smoke from the last roll of Tabaco he'd have for years to come. "You will never be rid of me."
Even if Alfred had regained control of his body, even if the southern rebels had died down, even if he was given every single last drop of reassurance in the world Jackson's final words haunted him and they would never be forgotten.
The current year is 2010. It has been one hundred and forty-five years since the surrender and fall of the Confederate States of America. An entire century had passed and Alfred did hear from Jackson every now again when the former Union boy himself crossed the old border of North and South. His southern accent would bubble up over his north eastern one and he'd grapple with his other half in the blackness of his deepest subconscious, but still there had never been a time when Jackson had gained full on control like he had during the civil war. Even if it hadn't happened yet the fear of it always lingered in the back of Alfred's mind like an ever present shadow standing stark against the bright day time sun.
Alfred stood in front of the mirror that sat tacked up against the wall of the bathroom in his New York apartment. He stared at himself for a good long time, but more particularly into his eyes. He stared and he stared so intensely into his blue eyes as if he was attempting to get past the gaze of himself into the steely glare of his southern counterpart who still sat tucked away in the 'Black Box.' He needed to look at Jackson- tell him- to leave him alone for this weekend. It was a very important weekend and there was no way Alfred was going to have his split personality ruin it.
"Now you listen here, Jackson, I'm heading down to Virginia this weekend to go to Chincoteague. I'm spending this weekend with a very important person- and I know you know who- and you aren't gonna spoil it. Do you understand?" Alfred looked at himself again- staring into his eyes- because he knew that Jackson could see what he saw and hear what he heard just as well as Alfred could. Jackson could answer and Alfred knew he could, it was just a matter of getting him to talk. "You better not pull something Jackson or I swear to god I'll come in there and beat you to death." Alfred threatened which earned him a small answer this time.
"Feh, whatever Alfred, see if I care. You go spend y'er time with y'er little faggot friend. I won't do nothin'." Jackson southern twanged voice echoed in the back of Alfred's mind.
"Somehow I'm having a hard time believing you." Alfred scoffed. "Seriously Jackson, him and I haven't spent a nice weekend together in a long time and I want to have fun."
"Alright, alright! Jesus Christ quit y'er damn chidin'. I'll try and behave… just… good god please don't do it. I hate havin' to watch that queero shit." The Confederate American replied.
"No can do. Like I said I want this weekend to be fun."
"…Y'er a son-of-a-bitch, did ya know that?"
"Yup, and you're an asshole so we're even." Alfred snapped back.
"Fair enough union boy." Jackson's voice faded away into silence and Alfred knew that the former Confederate nation had now retreated back to the 'Black Box' in hopes of tuning Alfred and his world out.
Alfred sighed heavily and closed his eyes as he once again put up the mental wall that separated himself and Jackson with maximum security intact. It would most likely be difficult to control him this weekend, but after nearly one-hundred and fifty years of learning how to suppress the split personality Alfred had deemed himself a close master to the art of it all. "I'm in control. The north won. I'm in control. Jackson will not get to me. I am in control." Alfred chanted religiously to himself- a habit he had picked up seeing as how pep talks always seemed to work wonders on his rarely troubled mind.
"Alfred?" The sound of his name being called resounded from the other side of the bathroom door along with a few quick knocks. "Who are you talking to? Are you alright?"
"Uh, yeah I'm fine. Be out in a second." Alfred called back before he flushed the toilet and turned on the sink to cover up his tracks and minimize the suspicion of his other half's existence. Alfred quickly swiped his hands over on the hand towel before he opened the door to reveal that important person standing in front of him with a slightly worried expression dancing of his delicate yet sharp features.
Arthur looked up at Alfred and eyed him warily, "Are you sure you're alright? I could have sworn I heard you talking to someone." The British man inquired once again.
Alfred turned on his beaming, bright grin and smiled down at Arthur, "Look who's talking Mr. Fairies-and-Unicorns," The American teased lovingly- only earning himself a scowl and pouty puffed out cheeks from the other man. "But I'm alright; just getting all excited for our totally-awesome-super-special-and-romantic-beach-vacation getaway."
Arthur's cheeks became dusted in a light blush. "Git, don't name it and if you're going to at least don't give it a name that isn't so bloody embarrassing."Or charmingly adorable, Arthur added to himself.
Alfred grinned happily and took the smaller man into his arms; affectionately burying his face into the Briton's soft and unruly locks of golden blonde hair. "But that's what it's gonna be Artie. This weekend is gonna be nice, relaxing, and fun." Alfred explained as he rubbed gentle circles into Arthur's thin and slender back.
Arthur sighed in defeat as he surrendered to Alfred's forceful innocence and the Briton loosely wrapped his arms around the American's waist. "Loveable twit," He teased affectionately. "It's been so long since we've spent some decent time just the two of us- what with work being so plentiful these past few months."
"I know- it really has sucked. But don't worry this will be an awesome stress melting weekend; I promise." As long as old Jackson keeps his whiny southern mouth shut… Alfred added to himself. He took in a deep breath, "…I'm in control…" He breathed hardly above a whisper on the exhale just to reassure himself that there was no way the confederate American was going to break through his other half's strong hold during these next few days.
"What was that, love?" Arthur asked curiously as he pulled away from Alfred slightly so their gazes of green and blue clashed with each other.
"Nothing, absolutely nothing. Just thinking out loud." Alfred assured his lover with another one of his award winning grins. The older man pressed his thin pink lips together as he remained unconvinced at Alfred's odd behavior, but any protests he may have had died on his tongue as Alfred reached around and took the Briton's left hand gingerly within his own.
Alfred brought the Briton's delicate pale hand up to his face where the American's bright blue eyes gazed tenderly at the ring on Arthur's finger. It was a simple silver band that shone in the dull morning light of the living room with three small ½ carat diamonds discreetly nestled within the gleaming metal frame. The young nation smiled softly at the sight ring that he knew was so lovingly taken care of- primped and polished every morning to the utmost perfection. As Alfred smiled he brought the hand to his lips and planted a gentle kiss on the cool metal of the ring. "I'm waiting for the day when we'll finally be together forever." Alfred grinned up at his fiancé.
Arthur's tickled pink cheeks grew a deeper shade of crimson, but a small smile graced his pale lips. "Git… we still have a long way off. We have to plan the wedding first."
"Plans shmans," Alfred laughed. "So long as you wear this ring it'll always mean that we're destined to be together." Alfred said as he once again scooped the smaller man up into his embrace (earning the American a very... eh hem… manly… squeak from the other).
Arthur's blush turned an even darker shade as his gleaming green eyed gaze was turned off to the side. "… Wanker…" He teased lovingly.
"Silly Artie, I've got you to help me with that." (1) Alfred laughed heartily which only earned him a firm smack to the back of the head.
"Is there no filter between what you think and what you say?" Arthur scolded.
"Nope," Alfred proclaimed as he grinned from ear to ear. "Or at least if what Japan's telling me is true." He quickly added to the end of his statement.
Arthur gave a sigh; rolling his eyes and shaking his head at his fiancés unique attitude which in all honesty, despite the fact that he could be annoying a lot of the time, Arthur loved the younger man's personality. Always so upbeat and optimistic as if there wasn't a single short fall to the world. It was hard to believe sometimes that, despite his very young age, he had already faced horrible hardships in his life as a nation. Two world wars, two terroristic bombings, even a civil war (Which that last one had scared Arthur the most. Even if Arthur was still holding a grudge against the American nation at the time- left over from the revolutionary war- it was still terrifying none the less to watch the usually bright and happy boy tear himself apart at the raging war within his mind.
But luckily that part of Alfred's life was long gone- or at least that's what Arthur had come to believe. As far as Arthur was concerned Jackson Jones had faded away from existence back in 1865. As far as Alfred was concerned it would stay that way even if it killed him. Jackson had a long standing grudge against Arthur and there was no way Alfred was going to let the Confederate American do anything to evoke his revenge on his defeat in the war.
Suddenly a sharp pain stabbed in the side of Alfred's head- just above his right ear. The American gave a small groan of pain as his hand instinctively began to rub at the throbbing spot. Concern then began dance across Arthur's delicate features as he watched a painful expression flashed across his usually cheery fiancé's face. "Alfred?" The Briton asked worriedly. "Are you alright, dear?" He said as he gently layered his hand over Alfred's among the American's stylishly tousled locks of wheat blonde hair.
Alfred turned on the smile again and made himself look as happy and cheerful as he could lest he raise Arthur's suspicions. "I'm fine, don't worry about it." Alfred reassured as he flipped his hand around and took Arthur's in his grasp bringing the digit down and away from his head. Arthur seemed to remain unconvinced, but the Briton never got the chance to press the issue further before he was suddenly whisked away into Alfred's bubbly babbling. "Well c'mon then Artie, let's get this show on the road. It'll be so cool. We can spend a nice day on the beach and find sea shells- Chincoteague's got some pretty conch shells if you look hard enough- and we can see the wild ponies, and go horseback riding and," The American yammered on and on leaving Arthur to just contently listen to him while giving the occasional smile or nod.
On the outside Alfred may have looked easy going and excited, but he could already feel his head churning with an imminent battle. I'm in control… I'm in control…
Jackson sat on black nothingness in the deepest depths of Alfred's psyche- hands latched together behind his head and legs lazily stretched out to be crossed over at the ankle. He thoughtfully chewed on the inside of his cheek while he watched the display screen of the world from Alfred's point of view. His eyes were glazed and rather uncaring as he stared at the never ending reel of live video feed that served as his only source of entertainment in the 'Black Box.' His yellow tobacco stained teeth ground together as his steely blue eyes gaze looked upon the happy and content face of one Arthur Kirkland. "British bastard…" Jackson muttered angrily to himself. "… You'll pay for what you did to me…"
Jackson stood up from his invisible seat and sauntered over to the screen, sticking out his lower lip as he once again chewed at the inside of his cheek. He leaned one hand against the wall and glared intensely at the screen just as he caught the reflection of Alfred's smiling face in the glass of the front door of his hummer. He looked so damn happy…. "Oh you think y'er in control union boy? Just you wait till we cross that border- Jackson J. Jones is making his grand reentrance after one hundred and forty-five years…"
Annotations:
The meaning of the British slang word "Wanker" usually refers to someone who masturbates hence the term "Wank off." Just thought I'd explain that so you guys got the joke.
Okidoki! New story! I spent this weekend with my friend in Chincoteague, Virginia and as we are avid USUK fans and role play them quite often we decided to act in character for the trip. It resulted in this idea of Alfred's split personality left over from the Civil War. So lo and behold here I now am writing this soon to be super angsty fan fiction! Yay!
Please R&R my darlings, it means a lot! Thanks lovies!