"Sorry if I cry, feelings run so deep.

Many is the time when I wake up and find I've been crying in my sleep.
Look me in the eye, tell me what you see,
I'm the one who loves you, I'm the one who needs you, make this one for me."

Let me start this off by saying that I love Alfred F. Jones, personification of the United States of America. I love him with all my heart, and I should have realized it long before I did. But when he had revolted, that little bit of my heart that had already loved him shattered, and it took over a century to finally put it back together. I still got a little down on July 4th, and Alfred accepted that, although it was nowhere near as bad as it once was, for which I'm grateful. As the years passed the date stopped affecting me at all, and it became just another date. But that has changed now.

We didn't get together until 1945, when Alfred, being the rather tactless git that he is, loudly proclaimed once the war was over that he loved me, and wouldn't I please go out with him? At first I froze, completely flustered and my face turned a rather brilliant shade of scarlet, but then I nodded, managing to squeak out. "Just kiss me, you git!" Which, of course, he did eagerly, as he did everything-sweeping me off my feet and kissing me amongst the cheering crowds. That is one of those moments that, even an entire century later, I could never forget. His blue eyes sparkled with joyful tears as he finally pulled away, his cheeks flushed pink, and he looked so amazing in that moment that I almost wish I'd caught it on film, though I know it wouldn't have captured it as well as my own memories could.

After that, we fell into a rather simple routine. One of us would travel to the other's house at least every other month, usually staying for about a week before flying back home, although there were a few times where that got impossible. Alfred entered another couple wars which he, being the fool he was, went over to fight him. I sat by his side after a rather awful battle in Vietnam that had left him recovering from several large patches of First degree burns, and many other injuries. I sat by his side the entire time he recovered, a pang in my heart at the sadness and almost empty look in his eyes by the end of it. That was when his smile slowly started to lose some of its brilliance, and there were times where I was certain he had to completely crushed on the inside while he smiled relentlessly on the outside.

We fought even more after that, although it stung me to do so, and we even split up for a couple of years during what was later dubbed the "Cold War", because he had gotten so paranoid and snippy, thinking everything and everyone was after him. We got back together, of course, Alfred showing up on my doorstep looking like a kicked puppy, his big blue eyes full of tears-not the kind he showed everyone else, no, but the ones he showed only to me. I was the only one he ever cried to like that, his large frame heaving with sobs as he clung to me like I was the only thing that was real, as if holding onto me could save him somehow. I always just stroked his hair, whispering soothing words to try and stop his tears, because they always hit me like an arrow directly to the heart. He came to me like that several times after that first, and I always just tried to help him through it the best I could. There were several decades where things went fairly well, and Alfred started to perk up again, his smiles becoming real once more, but...

But then all hell broke loose.

We all knew it was bound to happen someday, though none of us would admit it-another large scale war, this time encompassing almost the entire world over. All of Europe, America, Canada, Russia, China, India, much of the Middle East, Australia...everyone was in on it, choosing sides. It had starting by the growing debt in many of the nations, may unable to repay old debts, and soon it had broken out into large-scale combat. America as a nation had been doing poorly , over fourteen Trillion in debt, and Alfred had gotten sick several times as riots broke out amongst his people. Everyone was expecting the country to collapse, but Alfred and his people were stubborn. I was by his side as much as I could, taking care of him when he was too sick to do so himself, when his economy took a nosedive that left millions upon millions with almost nothing, inflation through the roof. It was even worse than the Great Depression, and Alfred was more ill than I'd ever seen him. Many of the countries on the opposing side seized the oppourtunity and attacked American forces with as much force as they had. Matthew, Francis, and I all tried to fend them off as best we could, but Alfred was only getting worse. I cried a lot in those days, though never around Alfred, because I was the only rock he had, the only one who could hold him steady and the one who kept him going when he finally lost every shred of hope. It was heart wrenching, seeing those once brilliant sky blue eyes dull and devoid of any hope. Every time he slept I panicked, because his country was failing, was slowly dwindling, and everyone expected it be just like the last great nation, like myself, or like the great Rome himself, and then Alfred would just vanish. I had several panic attacks, and Matthew took to sticking around the house, always watching over us. Alfred's twin looked rather pale himself, his frame thinner than before and deep circles under his eyes, but he always assured me that he didn't mind taking care of us, that I should just stick by his brother's side. He sometimes cried too-I could hear him, through the walls, but I never said a word, just as he never spoke about my own bouts of sobbing and pleading for someone, something to keep Alfred with us. But as the war dragged on into its twelfth year, Alfred was starting to sleep twenty hours out of the day, and the few he was awake he was hardly coherent.

It was July 4th, 2037, when the other side officially declared victory, and Russia and the others decided to officially dissolve the United States of America, and break my heart along with it. I sat next to Alfred that day, even though I was expected at the official meeting. I just couldn't leave him, and he managed to stay awake, looking up at me and holding onto my hand with all the strength he had left, and I started weeping just thinking about the old days, when he could pull along a car with ease or swing a full grown bison in circles. But now he was weaker than a newborn babe, and that was a crushing realization. Alfred just gave me the tiniest of smiles, looking up at me with dimmed sapphire eyes.

"It's gonna be okay..." but I just shook my head, holding onto his hand tightly as sobs ripped from my throat.

"No, it w-won't...you're going t-to just l-l-leave me, a-and...Alfred, you can't, y-you just can't!" He just looked up at me, his voice hoarse and almost barely audible.

"It will be, Artie..." a choked laugh escaped my lips at the old nickname, one he hadn't used in decades, but the tears poured down my cheeks and onto our clasped hands.

"A-Alfred..."

Matthew came in just then, standing in the doorway, his eyes shimmering in the light from the single lamp.

"I-it's happening...F-Francis called, th-they're just signing it..." I stared at him, and then I heard Alfred chuckle wryly a bit.

"Guess this is it...y'know, I always figured...I'd at least have another century..." he looked at me, smiling even though his eyes were barely open anymore. "'m sorry, Artie...I know we were s'posed to be together forever...but I guess...I'm gonna be going soon..."

"N-no, Alfred, you can't!" I wept, clinging to his hand tighter, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Seems like I don't...have much of a choice..." His eyes shut, and my breath caught in my throat, and I could hear Matthew sobbing loudly behind me, but then Alfred said in a voice so low I had to lean in to hear. "...I...love you, Arthur...I love you...so...much...'m sorry I have...to leave you...I wish..."

Alfred never finished that sentence, because at exactly noon on that day, the country was dissolved, and its personification stopped breathing, his hand going limp in mine. I sobbed violently, clutching his hand, hardly caring that I was practically gasping for breath, because that hole I had once patched in my heart now seemed to have been torn violently open again.

"I l-l-love you, Alfred...I-I love you, s-s-so p-please...just come b-back to me..!"

Matthew eventually pulled me away what seemed like minutes later, though I later learned that it had been hours. Alfred was buried by his old home in Virginia, the same one I had once brought him up in. For years, I couldn't even bring myself to visit, because every time I tried I started to shake violently, and my breaths loud gasps. But on this day, the anniversary of the day we got together, I finally got the courage to come stand in front of the simple granite stone, the old American flag carved at the top. The United States is no more, each state becoming its own small nation, though a few have joined together. But as I stare at the stone, I remember the bright, optimistic, sometimes foolish young man I loved, and my cheeks are already wet with tears. The inscription is simple; "Alfred Franklin Jones, Died July 4th, 2037-In our memories, he will always be the hero". That was my idea, since Alfred really had been a hero to me and everyone, in more ways than most of them care to remember anymore. Matthew and Francis still talk to me, but I refuse to go anywhere near Ivan, because I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to stop myself from beating him to death or something of that nature, and frankly, I wouldn't entirely care. He took my Alfred from me, my sunshine, my hero, and now I am left a shell of a man, of a country that was once an empire. My own country has been failing slowly, and I don't have the strength to try and stop it, because I'm sort of hoping it does. Then we will be together again.

I miss you, Alfred. I miss you terribly...I long only for the day that we will be together again.