"Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"
~X~
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. stepped back and turned away from the roaring, cheering crowd, their elation striking him, swift and breathless like a bullet. As he walked away, hands trembling with immense pride, satisfaction and righteous anger, a hand, trembling in a way just like his own, suddenly caught his shoulder. A strong, firm hand, the weight of which spoke to him of marvelous importance, of ancient wisdom, of childish laughter, of undeniable freedom. He turned, and was altogether, utterly and completely shocked by the face that greeted him.
It was a young boy, barely past eighteen, his face was white, his hair was blond, his eyes were blue beneath his silvery, wire framed glasses, and he had a river of tears streaming down his joyous face. The boy shifted his grip, so he was holding Martin on both forearms, with none of his impossible strength lessened. He looked deep into the man's eyes, and the icon gasped involuntarily.
A rush of beautiful images flew through his heart and mind; of open plains, of wide rivers, of deep green forests, of people, waving, cheering, of a great flag majestic in the wind. Of eagles, great birds of prey soaring and calling to the cities and towns below, of battles being fought, won, and lost. Of fireworks exploding in glorious color overhead as these pictures wheeled past, of unity and strength, of freedom and independence.
Martin looked into the boy's eyes, and he felt, he knew, in his heart, in his mind, that he was home.
The boy looked into his eyes, crying still, and gripped him tighter. "Thank you, thank you, I can never thank you enough!" He flung himself forward and cast his lanky arms around him.
With this, the man himself gave another little gasp of revelation, the perceptions of grandiose allegiance intensifying and burning new purpose into him.
The boy sobbed for an eternity more, still draped over Martin. In reality, this time was likely but a few unnoticed minutes, but time seemed to slow like honey around them. He pulled back finally, still crying and gripping the other man, a beautiful smile gracing his tear-tracked face.
"Thank you, thank you so much, I will never forget this- no one will ever forget you! Thank you!" With these final, repeated words of gratitude, the blonde released the still shocked activist, smiling once more, this time radiating a sense of pride and all-encompassing love and devotion. This smile never faded from his face, even as he turned and slipped away, disappearing into the jubilant masses.
Martin stood, still frozen, astounded at what had had just occurred, impossibly. Because Martin knew, unconsciously, and deep down, just who had thanked him. Because he had barely dreamed to expect such a welcoming reaction, no, not at first, not from that person.
~X~
Somewhere on the other side of the Washington Mall, Alfred F. Jones wiped away his tears, still smiling, for nothing could go wrong today, not on this impeccable day; no, nothing at all. Because today, the United States of America had met an undeniable hero, and heard him speak of tomorrow's new dawn.