The dark room in the back of the house always frightened her a bit, but South couldn't help but be curious. Her husband would periodically go into that room to clean, but he always came out a little while later, covered with dust and claiming that he didn't get much done.

She opened the door slowly, the old hinges creaking a bit. She looked over her shoulder fearfully, even though both America and Lithuania were at a world meeting, yet another she wasn't allowed to attend. She wasn't allowed to do a lot of things.

She took a few tentative steps into the room, her boots clacking on the concrete floor. Boxes lined the walls and were stacked precariously all around her, including some old... something... covered in a grey tarp in the back. The room was connected to the outside through an old barn door in the back, mostly for purposes of putting rather large objects in the storage room.

She wandered over to the grey tarp, lifting it a bit, then whipping the fabric off, dust flying everywhere. She coughed a few times, then looked at the still shiny black vehicle underneath, smiling a bit at it. "The old Model T..." she mused, running her hand over the smooth black paint. "I remember when Ford gave us this..." She giggled softly to herself. "Alfred was ecstatic to finally be able to drive, but I still like riding horses better."

She dragged the tarp back over it, smoothing it out before searching around again. "Let's see... what else is in here...?" She pauses, finding an old wagon filled with children's toys. She picked up an old doll, brushing the fading yarn hair of it with her fingers, smiling. "I remember when I made you..." She set it down again, sighing. "I'm starting to forget which daughter I gave you to. Probably several over the years..."

A glint of metal caught her eye in that wagon. She reached in and picked up a loosely coiled spring. She bounced it back and forth in her hands, giggling. "Slinky. I definitely remember you. One of the best accidents I've ever seen."

She set it down and walked over to a bookshelf, her fingers trailing lightly over the worn leather spines. "Huckleberry Finn, Tom Sawyer, The Great Gatsby,..." She smiled, thinking of those old stories. "Hawthorne, Dickinson, Poe, Steinbeck, Harper Lee, Hemingway, Frost..." She sighed, looking away from all the books. "To think, at one point, we had no culture. And now I can hardly keep up with it."

She rummaged through more boxes, stumbling upon an old box with hardly any designs, save for one thing written on it: Caitlyn. She blinked in confusion, then lifted the top off, finding it filled with things she remembered very clearly.

America's blue uniform was on top, tattered and burnt, a few blood stains that no amount of water could hope to wash away still present in the fabric. She lifted it up, the heavy wool jacket much more weighted down than she anticipated. Folding it up again, she dug deeper into the box. Minnie balls clattered about in the box as she rummaged through telegraphs and blue prints for weapons she's glad he never got the chance to make during those five years of war.

At the very bottom was a small chest, about the size of a book, really. She picked it up, the brass latch and corners darkening from age, the wood very weak. She fingered the lock, wondering where the key was. She set the box down and rummaged through the box, trying and failing to locate it. Pursing her lips, she looked around, thinking it perhaps fell on the floor. She lifted up the uniform jacket again off the ground and a small metal object clattered onto the concrete from one of the pockets. She picked up the brass key, then turned back to the box, clicking the key into place.

It turned easily despite the age, letting her see what the chest contained. It was a bit of a disappointment, finding it only filled with papers. She sighed, then caught sight of what was written on one of them. She gingerly took out one piece of paper, starting to read it out loud.

"To my wife,
I saw you again today across the battlefield. You're pretty ruthless, you know that? I figured I might have a chance in this battle the second time, but apparently not. Bull Run is just unlucky for me, I guess. I wanted to let you know that I miss you... a lot. New York is having riots and is in a lot of pain because of the draft. I don't really know what to do. You were always better at this than me.

I also wanted to say that my boss has really been pushing this Anaconda Plan. He says it'll end the war by forcing you to come back. Cut off trade, you know? I know it'll work, I just don't like seeing you hurt. I love you, South.

Forever yours, North."

South felt tears pricking in her eyes as she read the letter, a single tear falling onto the old parchment. "Oh North..." She closed her eyes, clutching the letter she knew he could never send. "I love you, too..."

She sat in that old room for a few hours, reading each letter, her tears not stopping as she read about every battle from his point of view, every letter finishing with "I love you." She put the last of the letters away, salty tear streaks on her face as she re-locked the chest, putting the key back in the pocket of the jacket and putting everything back in the box before sliding the lid back on.

She heard footsteps behind her and turned to find that she had left the door cracked a bit. She felt like a caught burglar, her heart racing.

America opened the door slowly, his shadow cast onto the concrete floor, the light from the windows behind him shining around his head. "South? What are you doing in here?"

She ran toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck and crying into his shoulder. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I love you!"

He stumbled back a bit from the force of impact, but regained his balance, hugging her back, a bit confused. "I love you too. But why-?"

She held onto him tighter. "I never should have seceded. I never knew how much it hurt you. How much you still wanted me back despite that and... and... even though we were at war... you still loved me..."

He kissed her hair gently. "It's all in the past now... Please don't cry..."

She quieted herself, her tears still flowing. "I don't deserve you..."

He smiles sadly, stroking her hair. "You read the letters, huh?"

She nods, burying her face in his shoulder more. "All of them."

He held her tighter. "Did you look in the hidden compartment?"

She looks up at him mutely, shaking her head.

He smiles at her, taking her hand and leading her back over to the box, digging out the chest and taking the key out of the pocket to unlock it. He opens the chest, then slides open a wooden slot with a bit of effort, pulling out another piece of paper. He unfolded it and began to read it to her.

"To my husband,

It feels weird calling you that. I've dreamed of calling you that for a very long time, but now I finally can. Well, I will be. I'me not married to you yet. Just a few more hours and then we'll be together! My dress is beautiful, Alfie! I'm sure you'll love it! It's laying on the bed beside me as I write this letter to you. It's white (of course) with flowers embroidered in the skirt. It's not anything special, really, but it's what I could afford.

It's not the dress that matters to me, anyway. I could care less about it. Or the wedding. All I want is to be with you forever. I want you to know that I love you so much, Alfie. I'll see you soon at the altar!

Forever Yours, South."

South closed her eyes as he reads the letter, feeling the quill in her hand, seeing the dress beside her, the sounds of the colonies in the early morning just outside her window. She huged him tightly again once he finishes reading it, not able to speak due to having to gasp in every breath.

He held her against his heartbeat, letting the paper fall from his hands. "I'm the one who doesn't deserve you, South." He lifted her chin so she looked in his eyes, then kissed her gently. "I will always love you."