A/N: You know you're obssessed when you read a history book and think it would make good Hetalia fanfic. This is Civil War story, which I know has been done before, but the plot bunnies wouldn't leave me alone. So, I hope you enjoy.

December 20, 1860

The cold winter air snapped at China's face and hands, specks of the first snow of the season clinging to his heavy parka like stars. Wind blasted in his ears and forced him to exert that extra push of his small frame so he could put his hand on the doorknob. Once he was inside, he checked his watch.

"Look at that, aru. It looks like I'm going to be early. That's a first, aru," China muttered to himself. He was suddenly glad that he had taken his lunch so early, even though his stomach now groaned in protest. Because of his nitpicky and perfectionist eating habits, his arrival to the World Conference before all the other countries only occurred once in a blue moon. China shrugged off his coat and stepped into the conference hall. He was indeed early--only two of the 195 chairs were filled. What was surprising was who occupied those chairs. The United States and the United Kingdom were not a pair known for getting along very well together. Nonetheless, the Asian country called a friendly greeting.

"Ni hao, America, England-aru! It's cold weather today, aru! Are you alright here by yourselves, aru?" his boyish voice rang through the hall. Neither of the English speaking countries spoke, but England jerked his head toward America, who appeared to be having a minor seizure. Phrases like: "Curse you, Texas!" and, "What do you think you're doing, South Carolina?" would occasionally leave his mouth.

"Ah… England? What's going on, ahen?" China asked. America had a long history of contradicting and disagreeing with himself. Of course, part of that was the danger of freedom of speech and religion. China had never been so happy to be an atheist.

England looked up at the older nation wearily. "America is having some intercontinental disputes, it seems," he explained dully. "He started twitching a couple of hours ago when we were talking with Germany and France. Germany decided that he needed to leave and check on North Italy. Then as soon as this idiot started to cough up blood, France wanted nothing to do with it and walked away so I would either be stuck with him or America. I chose the lesser of two evils and brought him here," England finished with a sigh, taking another sip of his Earl Grey tea.

China raised his eyebrows. "Is that so, ahen? What is he disputing about, ahen? His Northern and Southern regions seem to disagree quite a lot." At that, America paused mid cough and finally spoke up, though his voice was hoarse.

"The worth of a human being," he said grimly in one of his rare serious moods before falling into another lapse of coughing. England frowned, becoming concerned for his former colony despite himself. China just nodded sympathetically. He was all too familiar with those rifts between his people that made him feel like he was going to split in two--it was a feeling he never really got used to over his thousands of years. What America was going through wasn't pleasant by any stretch of the imagination. He considered saying something comforting, but before any one of the three could open their mouths again, the doors were tossed open with enough force that the walls trembled. An influx of countries poured steadily into the large room. The World Conference was about to begin. A few incoming nations would stare bewilderedly at the unusually quiet America, who by this time was always at the head of the room giving orders, before taking their seats. Without America to kick off the meeting with one of his typically stupid new ideas, Germany took it upon himself to start.

"Alright, everyone! We're running short of time, so if you have any questions or comments that aren't immediately urgent, then write them down on the paper in front of you and put them in the box at the foot of the table! Anyone who wants to get an unrelated topic into the air, please speak now," he barked. Everyone fell quiet at the sound of the rough voice as if it were a trained skill. The moment of near silence was broken only by America's hacking cough and labored breathing. Said country finally managed to drag himself to his feet, but the action clearly wasn't without effort. All eyes turned on him expectantly, and although he looked sick, pale, and exhausted it was a relief to see that America would be America no matter what.

Germany nodded his permission to speak while inwardly expressing concern for the man's obvious lack of health.

"I… suggest," America gasped between fits of violent illness. Oh, not good. "That… in order… to promote… diplomatic relations, that our bosses all play a sort of…" All the color drained from his face. "'Get To Know You' game… you know… so… so… it could be fun…"

If it hadn't been readily apparent that something was seriously wrong with the usually chipper man, then it was now. America reeled and pitched forward, the bile rising in his throat. Ah… Why was the room spinning? The pain of the conflict had literally tripled--it spread through his spine and torso, threatening to blow his chest apart. He wondered dizzily if the searing agony in his head had cracked his skull yet. Colors danced across his eyes.

The last thing the young nation saw before blacking out was the horrified expression on England's face--the kind that said without speaking, "Where did I go wrong with you?" With those thoughts in his mind, America hit the floor.

-------------------Six weeks later-------------------

"Ahhh… uhhh…" America groaned. The colors and sounds all rushed back to him at the same time. He wasn't in pain anymore, rather, he felt slightly lightheaded, weak and disoriented. Besides that, he couldn't see a thing, but he guessed that he was in a bed back in his house. When he reached up to push Texas up on his nose, he discovered that it wasn't there. That would be the problem. America frowned, blindly feeling around on the table next to him for it, because without Texas, everything was just color with no meaning--well, and that dark shadow in front of him.

Wait, what dark shadow? Since when was that there? Maybe he was hallucinating. He blinked and squinted in an effort to get more of a focus on the figure. Nope, it was definitely there. As if reading his thoughts, the shadow lurched forward, and at a close range America could see its face. It was a man, and his first thought was that it looked exactly like him, only with darker hair. A split second view was all he got, because a moment later the other man drew back. He merely wanted to alert America of his presence. Then a voice emerged from the shape that should be the man's head.

"So… this is my competition? And to think I was worried," he smirked. Not that the other party in the room could see if he was smirking or not, but he could hear it. America took note of his thick Southern accent.

"Who… are you?" America asked uncertainly. Strangers in his house were not to be trusted, especially when he was in such a weak and blind state.

"Not satisfied with what you saw? Well, I reckon it'd be easier all around if you could see me," he sneered. The dark haired man threw a hard glass container that seemed to be filled with liquid into the confused American's lap.

"Contact lenses. They're not technically supposed to be invented yet, but we'll let that slide. Believe me, you, need them," said the voice. America fumbled with the contacts for a while, then managed to slide them in, blink, and focus. The man in front of him was indeed identical to himself, apart from the darker hair and eye color. Texas was perched on the bridge of his nose, and he was smirking, as America had suspected. It was a cruel smirk that was all malice and no humor.

"Recognize me?" he asked. America shook his head.

"No. Why would I? And how did you get Texas? Give it back!" he demanded.

His double grinned, if possible, even wider. "No? That hurts, you know. After all, I am a part of you. My name is the Confederate States of America, but you can call me the Confederacy for short," he offered as if they were already on familiar terms.

America didn't know what he had been expecting, but that wasn't it. His eyes widened in shock. "A part of me? But that's not possible. A country doesn't just divide into separate parts like that," he protested.

"Not possible? Oh but it is. Call it what you like; regeneration, asexual reproduction… I call it secession, and it stretches from Virginia all the way to Texas. And I most definitely am a separate person. Got my own constitution and everything."

America's head was spinning with a different kind of dizziness. A constitution? That made it official. The sickness must have been the pain of splitting with his Confederate states. But… "Then what does this mean?" he asked, fearing the answer. Silently he retracted his previous observation. There was no way this… man looked anything like him with that cold, cruel expression on his face.

"What does it mean? It means war, numbskull," the Confederacy replied, all traces of courtesy gone from his voice. "If we got far enough to part that we separated entirely, then that makes us opponents and enemies. You may be stronger, for now, but I'm smarter. How do you intend to fight this war without slaves, hmm? I'll gain strength, then take you over. And as soon as I know I've won for good…" he leaned over now so his breath fanned across America's face. "I'll consume you." He jumped back, laughing humorlessly.

"My boss is Abraham Lincoln. He won't let you do this!" America protested. Although he still had trouble wrapping his mind around the situation, he had full faith that his new boss, whom he was already rather fond of, would take care of everything. It was always the South causing trouble, anyway. He had never had too much trouble keeping it down. This so-called "war" should be nothing more than a brief skirmish.

"Oh? Well, don't get too comfortable. I have a few tricks up my own sleeve, and I don't imagine this war should go on for a real significant amount of time, anyway," the Confederacy shrugged as if they had done nothing more than discuss the latest trend in coat sleeves. "You don't stand a chance. But how about we keep it civil for now?"

With those words and one more nasty smirk over his shoulder, the new almost-nation left America alone in his confusion.

A/N: I'm happy with how this turned out, unlike most of my writing. Plus, I actually had it beta'd this time! Well, kind of. I had my mom proof read it. Review please?