I in no way claim any rights or profits to Axis Powers Hetalia or the character America/Alfred F. Jones. Those belong to Hidekaz Himaruya, and justly so.

The OC Alaska is mine however, based off Himaruya's concept. That and Louisiana.

"Louisiana?"

His eyelids fluttered open and she smiled. He returned it but it was thin and tired, not his usual slow, sexy grin.

"Alaska, what are you doing here?"

"Checking on you, and Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida. Dad and his boss asked me to."

"Right." He said and tried to sit up further in bed but winced. She piled a few more pillows behind him, mindful of the IV and other hoses and monitors he was connected to. He laughed a little, "Shit, the Exxon Valdez, I can't believe I forgot,."

"Well you do have your mind on other things. How are you today?"

"It's still there ain't it?"

"That's what I thought."

"What are those British idiots trying today?"

"I think they've tried shooting ping pong balls or something like that into the leaking well, again."

He snorted, "Let me guess, it didn't work."

She shook her head. His laughed but it was devoid of mirth and he wouldn't meet her eyes. She could hear the disappointment in it, a new day, a new failure, a new depth of sickness.

Silence filled his hospital room. She sat and listened to the machines whir as Louisiana swallowed and muttered something in French. The words "Dieu s'il vous plaît1" were all she could catch. She reached forward and touched his hand, he did not pull away and she slipped into it and squeezed. He closed his eyes and sighed.

Then looked at her, his blue eyes sad but bright, "I am glad you're here Alexandra."

She smiled, "You guys shouldn't have to go through this alone." She bit her lip, she hadn't meant it to come out that way. But Louisiana had moved on, asking her about what her summer was like and what her people were doing in Louisiana.

So she talked, as much to take his mind off what was happening to him, and to try to forget what she hadn't meant to say. They talked into the afternoon; she gave him all the gossip, Wisconsin and Minnesota had fought about football, again, and updates about the conditions of the other Gulf States. It was evening when they finally ran out of things to say.

A nurse came in, "Would you like some dinner Mr. Bonnefoy-Jones?"

"No thanks, I'm not really hungry."

"No Louis, you need to eat something." Alexandra cut in "You'll never get better if you don't eat something. Bring some chicken broth, please." The nurse nodded and left.

"Alexandra, the only way I'll get well is if those damned BP guys clean up the fucking Gulf."

"I know but that doesn't mean that you shouldn't take care of your body. That's why you're here after all." She waved at the hospital room.

"Come on Alexandra", he tried to stare her down then leaned forward and lowered his voice, "What if it all comes back up?"

"It's chicken broth, just take it slow. Things have been fairly stable lately haven't they? I'm not going to let you neglect yourself."

The nurse returned with the broth and set in on the table in front of Louis. He picked up the spoon in his free hand and sighed, "Figures, I'd be visited by the bossy sister."

She laughed, "We're all bossy."

"Well, don't be so proud of it. I'm beginning to think that's the only reason you came down."

"It was my main motivation." She helped him uncap the steaming broth. He stirred it and blew a few times. Then he sipped it and waited.

"How do you feel?" she asked after a few moments. He didn't respond but took another sip, that seemed like a good sign.

"This broth is absolutely disgusting. But, I think I'm going to be OK."

She laughed, "Good." The broth did seem to revive him a little, he smiled more and made jokes; but the effort of sitting up seemed to be exhausting him. When he was halfway done he set down the spoon.

"Alexandra, do you think you could feed me the rest?" Then he grinned, a glimmer of his slow sexy grin.

She pursed her lips to keep from smiling, "I don't know if raising your blood pressure is such a good idea." She cocked an eyebrow.

"Please Alexandra, I'm a sick man. I need all the comfort I can get." His grin widened, he nearly sounded like himself.

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Louis, you are a very bad man."

"Thanks, you're a sweetheart."

She got up from her chair and sat on the edge of the bed. She was about to take the broth and spoon when something else occurred to her. "Wait, maybe this isn't such a good idea. Are you sure you can finish this?"

"Yeah" he replied seriously, "The eating, it's actually made me hungry, again." She eyed him carefully, and he returned her scrutiny.

So she spoon fed him. After finishing the broth he dozed off and she took the opportunity to stretch her legs and use the bathroom. Then she looked out the window and watched the night fall over New Orleans. It was a little weird because she was still on Alaska time, up in Alaska it would still be early evening and even then the sky would still be light as day. But she enjoyed watching the night fall, and the lights rise.

It was about 7:45 when she got a text from Alfred, it said:

Comin to new orleans, b there in 2 hours or so. Where r u?

She replied she was at Louisiana's hospital room.

Cool, how is he? Where r u stayin?

She gave him her hotel and signed off. She glanced over and Louisiana but he was still asleep. She rubbed her eyes and walked to the window, flying from Alaska to Florida, Alabama and Mississippi had made her completely jet lagged. She debated on going to her hotel to catch up on her sleep but she didn't want to leave Louis alone. At that thought she felt a chill do down her back as she remembered her words from earlier. You guys shouldn't have to go through this alone, like she had twenty-one years ago?

No, no, no. She thought, I will not think about that. I'm supposed to be helping Louis, not dwelling on the past.

There was a rustle behind her and she heard something that sounded like "Ale-", she turned in time to see Louis jolt awake and lurch forward a couple times.

"Shit." She hurried forward to look for a basin, a bowl, something. Finally she grabbed the trash can but she was too late. He was vomiting all over the table and his lap. She thrust the trash can under his mouth just in time to catch the second wave. As he threw up again she hit the call button for the nurse's station. She turned back to Louis just as he was finishing. She rubbed his back as he sat panting before throwing up for a third time. The nurse came in but she wasn't much help. Louis threw up three more times. Completely emptying his stomach until only bile dribbled out. After that he dry heaved a couple times before settling back on the pillows, exhausted.

The nurse called in other nurses and they began to clean up the puke and the bed and Louis. Alexandra got him a cup of water and helped him rinse his mouth out before stepping back so that the nurses could change his blankets.

"I'm so sorry Louis." She said when the nurses had left. "I was really hoping that would stay down. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault Alexandra." he sighed "It's their fault, BP, Deepwater Horizon, Dad's Boss …Dad!" He pounded the bed with his fist. "I hate it! I hate it so much. I can't do anything. I'm stuck in this fucking hospital. I can't leave, I can't work, I can barely sleep, I can't even eat. I hate this, I hate being helpless and nobody understands. Nobody!"

"Lou." She said.

"They say their working on it. Cleaning it up, when it just keeps coming. All they can do is point fingers in Washington while my people suffer. They can't fish, shrimp, or work and BP won't let them help, while they just do fucking stupid things to "try" and stop the flow. It makes me so damn mad!" He raised his fist to pound again. But she seized it.

"Lou." He glared at her and then looked away.

"You know I hate being called that."

She sat on the bed holding his hand in one hand she reached up and turned him to face her.

"Louis, I know. I know how much it hurts, I know how angry you feel." her words continued in a rush her voice rising a little. "But you've got to believe in your people, this will be fixed. You're going to get better I promise. The sickness will go away, you just need to wait. I know it's so hard to, but you can never give up, never. Dad is helping, he is. He's doing his best."

Louis studied her, looking like he was about to cry, but whether it was from anger or sadness she couldn't tell. "Merci Alexandra2." Then he reached forward and wrapped her in a one arm hug, rubbing her back. "S'il vous plaît ne pleure pas aussi.3" When they separated she didn't know what to say, and worried she had said too much. Louis didn't say anything either, and soon fell asleep. He held her hand even then; they stayed this way until it was nearly 10:00 when Alfred came in.

"Alexandra." He smiled weariness in every line of his face. "It's so good to see you."

"Hey Dad" she said quietly, "How are you?"

"Dead beat. How is he?" He approached the bed, studying Louisiana.

"Really tired. He had some broth earlier, but it came back up about an hour ago. He's been sleeping ever since."

"Damn, I'd heard the wind changed but I was hoping..." He looked up. "You look like you could use some rest too. Go down to your hotel and get some sleep. I'll call you if anything changes."

"Sure." She disengaged her hand from Louis', picked up her purse and left.

She was in a daze all the way back to the hotel, performing the actions she needed without thinking. Once inside she tossed her purse on couch and took off her shoes, trying to shake the numbness she'd been feeling ever since she'd told Louis not to lose faith. As she changed her clothes she kept replaying it in her head. Louis and been afraid and angry, but she had sounded like the one who needed the pep talk. Dad is helping, he is…This will be fixed. She pressed her hands to her eyes trying to dispel the memory of a voice that sounded like she was bordering on hysteria.

She had known the risks, worried about it all the way on the plane ride down. She didn't want to think about it, she didn't want to remember. But it was still there, even now. She looked up into the bathroom mirror. The florescent lights washed her out. Even her darker skin looked sallow in this light, her eyes looked feverish, and her black curtain of hair, free from its ponytail, hung passed her elbows, wrapping her like a shroud. A foul taste filled her mouth and her stomach shifted uncomfortably. She picked up her toothbrush and brushed her teeth. When she spat the foam out she spat a few extra times just to make sure the foul taste was gone. She braided her hair, but did it so poorly that part of her hair was slipping out of the braid as she collapsed on the bed, pulled the sheets up, and turned out the light.

She stared through the humid dark at the ceiling and realized she'd forgotten to crack a window or turn on the AC. She inhaled the wet air, her chest pushing the covers up; she hated people who put so many covers on a bed. Sheets, blankets, comforter, pressing down on her like the wet air in her lungs. She rolled over and that helped a little. As she stared at the expanse of her bed she felt a stab of loneliness. She missed her dog, she missed her room, she didn't want to sleep by herself in this strange place. She curled into a ball on her king-sized bed, it was soft and cushioning. Even sleeping in the chair next to Louis' hospital bed would have been preferable to this. At least then she wouldn't be, so alone.

She closed her eyes. Louis was never alone. Down here he was surrounded by their siblings, he could visit Dad easily. She was almost always alone. Even back then. She had been so sick, and alone. She drifted off to sleep.

She was standing in Valdez Harbor watching them spray a chemical to help the oil dissipate. The smell of both oil and chemical was thick in her nose, it flowed down her throat like a noxious syrup, it settled into her stomach like lead. She wanted to yell at them to hurry up. Do something to keep the oil from reaching her shores, but she couldn't. It wouldn't have done any good anyway. She just had to wait at the mercy of others. Exxon, Congress, wait for someone else with more power who gave a damn about her coastlines, her animals, her cities, her people. She walked back to her hotel and took a long shower, to try and rid herself of the smell.

It was late so she got into bed and turned on the TV to see the breaking news. She'd barely heard from her father or his boss or her brothers and sisters. She brushed her hair and turned up the TV. The anchorwoman was talking about the oil spill, the chemical hadn't worked. There hadn't been enough wave action to mix the oil and the chemical, she said.

Alexandra's lip curled in contempt, so it was her fault they couldn't fix it? But at the same time her insides clenched in fear. It was going to touch her; she could feel it encroaching like a human feels when they are coming down with a cold. The feeling of lead in her stomach returned, why could she still smell it? She ran a hand through her hair and the smell intensified. She sniffed her hair, it still smelled like oil, like the chemical. Her gorge rose and suddenly she felt dirty, contaminated. She wanted to wash, to purge herself of the smell and poison. She ran to the bathroom and threw up, barely making it to the toilet in time. Her hair swung around her face, trapping her in veil of oil. She threw up again, and again, and again. She couldn't stop, she couldn't get away.

Her eyes snapped open and she sat up. It was still there, it was still poisoning her. She felt the bile rise in her throat. She jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Crouching over the toilet she convulsed and then threw up. She could still feel the nausea in her stomach, still smell the oil. She threw up again and tears sprang to her eyes. The vomit burning her throat. Loose hair stuck to her wet cheeks as she cried and tried to get her stomach under control.

Then, hands smoothed her loose hair back from her face; calloused hands, but gentle ones. This was distraction enough and she felt her stomach become calmer. She looked back and Alfred was crouching behind her, his brows knit and his blue eyes full of concern.

"Dad?" this realization made her cry harder. He looked taken aback for a moment, and then he was holding her. Stroking her hair and letting her cry all over his shirt, right there on the bathroom floor. When she was done sobbing they stood up and she rinsed her mouth out and sat down on the hotel bed. He pulled up a chair next to her.

She wiped at her eyes, "What are you doing here? What about Louisiana?"

"He's asleep. I asked a nurse to sit in there with him in case he needed anything and gave her my cell and your hotel number. She'll call use if anything happens."

"What are you doing here? You shouldn't even be here."

He watched as she rubbed at her eyes again and sniffed, "No", he said "I think should be here.

"After you left Louis woke up and told me that you had stayed with him all evening. He also told me he was worried about you. He-he told me some of the things you said, he said it sounded like you were trying to convince yourself, as much as him."

More tears trickled out. Why was she so weepy? Alfred continued, "I'm sorry I asked you to come down Alexandra, I didn't realize that it would hurt you so much. I'd understand if you wanted to leave early."

"No, I want to stay, I want to help. I can't just leave them alone. Cause I know how they feel."

"Why were you throwing up? Do you feel okay?"

She told him about her dream about how strong the memory of the smell had been, about how lonely she had felt. By the time she was done she was starting to cry again and Alfred had moved to the bed and was hugging her as he listened. It was a little strange at how soothing his touch was. To be encircled in his arms, she felt protected and safe. She inhaled his scent, clean clothes, freshly cut grass, cologne, and his own personal scent, one that reminded her of a home cooked meal. She reveled in his smell and felt the memory of the oil disappear until it felt like an old nightmare she had half forgotten.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispered to her hair, "I worried that this would be hard for you, but when you volunteered to come down yourself, I think that was truly heroic of you."

"I didn't want to think about it. I tried not to but, after talking to Louis and after he got sick. All I could think about was how long the oil sat there, how long I lay sick while it seemed like people did nothing to help me. I felt so helpless and alone."

"I know, and…I'm sorry." He stroked her hair. "If anyone should have helped you, it should have been me. I could even feel how sick you were. But, I failed you, and I regret that, so much."

She hugged him tightly, "Thank you Dad." She murmured as she felt sleep beckon her once more.

Alfred glanced down at his daughter and noticed she was asleep. Her jet lag, crying, and the events of the night finally taking their toll. He picked her up and settled her into one side of the king-sized bed, carefully tucking her in. Then he removed his shoes and settled into the other side, propping himself up on some pillows. He reached down and stroked her hair, reveling in the silence and tranquility of the night.

It wasn't often that he was able to spend time with his states, particularly personal one-on-one time. He felt that guilt acutely, because he also knew what it was like to feel neglected and used. But tonight was different, tonight he was exactly where he needed to be. He smiled and closed his eyes; that felt truly heroic too.

Authoress Note:
Just an idea I had during the Oil Spill in the Gulf. But I just wrote it down last week. I love 50 State Family Fluff, and Alfred as a father.

Louisiana, I don't know if it's because France was his father or the nickname for New Orleans is the Big Easy, but I imagined he'd be a bit of a flirt. He was fun to write.

The Exxon Valdez Oil Spill happened in 1989 in Prince William Sound Alaska, and was the largest oil spill in the US until the Gulf Spill. Even 21 years later there is still some oil on the coastline and residences of the Prince William Sound area are still recovering from the damage done by the spill.

Part of the reason it was so difficult to clean up the Exxon Valdez oil spill was because of the remoteness and geography of the coastline, and just the distance from Alaska to the lower 48 period. So the oil sat there as peopled tried to figure out what to do.

During the Gulf spill people from Valdez and the Prince William Sound traveled down to the Gulf to give advice from their first-hand knowledge of living through this sort of environmental disaster. I imagine that Alaska would know better than anyone just how bad it is for the Gulf states.

I imagined that being affected by an oil spill would be like being poisoned. Hence the nausea and vomiting.

French Translations: (If the French is incorrect please let me know.)
1 Lord please

2 Thank you Alexandra

3 Please don't you cry too.

12/14/2010: Just a few minor edits, and thanks to Team Rebel for the tips on the French.

Thanks for reading, please review.