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Special thanks to my reviewer: ElricGurl the Hetalian: It's never easy to be the responsible one. It's hard to be the one to have to back down especially when its America the older vs America the younger AKA South. Both are hard headed and set in their beliefs. America has a hard time controlling South because America doesn't want to hurt him like Britain did to America when America was growing up. It's a case of I'll never do what my mother/father did to me to my kid type deal. America's figuring out that by letting South have his way he's letting South control him. I'm glad you enjoy the story! I was also unaware that there was a city in Michigan called Hell. That's a fun fact to know! lol Thanks for your support!
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Chapter Ten: Fugitive Slave Act and Senate Beatings
1854, Anthony Burns
"He is a slave and you made it law to have slaves returned to their owners!" South declared vehemently.
America and South were currently arguing over the fate of a runaway slave, Anthony Burns, in the oval office with the president. The arrest had caused a huge stir in the Northern part of the United States and currently had abolitionists up in arms. America was hurting over the entire affair.
"Do you not see what is going on in Boston! Can't you see how much this affects me!" America shouted and let lose hacking coughs.
America was physically sick over the entire event.
"No, America, the Fugitive Slave Act must be enforced. We agreed on it. If we let one go, then eventually they'll all expect to be let go. I can't America!" South explained.
South really did hate to see his brother sick, but he couldn't allow a runaway slave freedom. Anthony Burns had to be returned to his owner.
"He's right, America," Franklin Pierce agreed with South.
"Fuck you, Pierce, all you've done is become a puppet for the South!" America spat angrily.
Both South and Pierce looked at America in shock. South had never seen America so angry at one of his presidents before. America was breathing hard and felt as if he was losing control over his own country and his brother was taking over. Anger over this thought caused his explosion. He was America. South should follow him, but South was right. America had signed the Fugitive Slave Act during the Compromise of 1850. America ran a defeated palm down his face.
"Just do what needs to be done," he muttered angrily breaking the uncomfortable silence and leaving the room.
Burns was returned to his owner. America got sicker before he got better. South attempted to take care of his older brother, but America would only tell him to leave. South felt guilty and wanted to make amends with America.
"America," South called hopefully into the room as he carried a bowl of broth he'd made himself.
America didn't answer him and had his back turned to him as he recovered in his bed. South opened the door completely then looked at the empty whisky bottle in the floor next to the bed. South felt an emotional pang at the sight knowing he was the cause of this.
South sighed, "Please America," South begged walking forward and setting the broth on the night stand.
"Just leave me alone," America told South in an obvious drunken slur.
"America, stop acting like a child," South patronized his older brother.
"How is it you act just like him?" America asked suddenly startling the Southern states as America flipped and hazy drunken eyes glared at him.
"I beg your pardon?" South questioned with wide eyes.
"I raised you, not him! You've never even met him!" America declared loudly.
"America," South said softly, "You're drunk. You don't know what you're talking about."
America slammed a fist onto the bed, "To hell I don't! I bet you wish he was your older brother! Well, I've news for you he sucked!" America continued to shout.
South felt uncomfortable. He'd never seen America this drunk before. America drank often with his presidents and government, but he was always a happy drunk. South was even allowed to drink on occasion, but America was usually pretty adamant on keeping South sober.
"America-," South was interrupted again.
"He tried to control me too, you know. I showed him though and I'll show you if you get in my way. He was my brother too and I had no problems getting rid of him," America told South.
South stood in absolute horror at America's words as what he was talking about clicked in South's brain. America was referring to Britain, who South had never even met or knew. South only knew what America said about Britain, so how could South wish Britain was his brother instead?
"You don't mean that," South said shakily trying to prevent his throat from closing up and the tears from falling down.
America stared at South for a long moment, "Why are you even here? Thought I told you to leave?" America inquired.
South swallowed the lump in his throat and pointed to the soup, "I made you some chicken broth because you were sick," South answered trying to keep from hyperventilating.
America wouldn't leave South. He wouldn't kick South out like Britain. He didn't mean it. He was just drunk. America loved South. He'd told South so all his life, so why was he acting as if South were the worst person in the world right now. South hadn't exactly been a good brother with his stance on slavery and trying to protect it, but it was essential to his economy. If America would stop with his antislavery position, and allow the states to decide their rights they wouldn't fight near as much.
"I'm sick because of you," America reminded South scathingly.
South nodded and turned to leave. He couldn't take being in the same room with America anymore after what he'd revealed. America didn't try to stop him just watched him leave. Tears rolled down the Southern states cheeks in betrayal. Could he even trust America anymore? He ran to his room feeling utterly abandoned by his big brother.
America woke up with a splitting headache the next morning. He hated being sick, but it wasn't until he realized he was dying for some water that the headache wasn't from being sick. This was a hangover. He looked over at his nightstand hoping against hope there would be a glass of water waiting for him, but was instead greeted with a bowl. America frowned and leaned forward seeing the soup inside the bowl. Where had this come from?
Then it hit him.
America's heart stopped as the bowl brought back hazy memories of America being deliberately cruel to South. What had America done? The memory of his little brother trying to hold it together after America had basically told him that he'd get rid of South. Anguish tore through America's chest as he threw the covers off and ran for South's room in his night gown.
"South!" he called hastily.
He received no answer as the room was empty. America cursed and ran for the president's room. America's head felt like it was going to split open, but it was nothing compared to the fear that South had left. Franklin Pierce was startled awake by America banging into his room.
"America what's wrong? What's happened?" Pierce questioned frightened.
"I can't find South!" he panted, "I said some mean things to him last night and now I can't find him. What if he left? What if he went to Britain?"
Pierce frowned, "Why would he go to Britain?" the president questioned.
"I said some things last night. We have to find him!" America declared and turned from the room to continue his frantic search.
The entire White House went on alert looking for the other half of the United States. Finally, the door to the White House opened late in the evening and in walked South. South gave a startled squeak when one of the maids shouted for America and the nation came barreling down the hallway. America instantly threw his arms around his younger brother and hugged him hard.
"I'm so sorry, South. Please forgive me. I'm so so very sorry. Don't ever leave again," America told him grievously.
South stood frozen in America's arms before returning the hug, "So you do want me?" he questioned wearily.
"Of course I do!" America exclaimed.
America pulled from the hug and stared at the heartbroken expression on South's face as a tear ran down his face. He removed Texas and wiped the tears from the teenager's face.
"I will always want you. You're literally my other half. I didn't mean anything I said last night. I shouldn't have said it and I know I can't take back the words. Please forgive me," America told him.
South sniffed, "You're forgiven," America hugged him tightly again.
"Where did you go?" America asked letting his younger brother go.
"It's Sunday. I went to a black church," South responded and wrinkled his nose in distaste.
America looked at South in surprise, "You?" he questioned in shock.
South glared, "Yes, I did. I donated to their cause," South responded nonchalantly turning and crossing his arms.
America frowned, "What cause?" he questioned.
"To buy Anthony Burns' freedom," South answered and then found himself once more engulfed in America's arms.
"Thank you," America thanked with a huge smile.
"Don't thank me. I didn't do it for him. I did it for you," South replied.
Anthony Burns was soon back on the streets of Boston.
May 1856
South had sat tight lipped during the hot Senate meeting with one of America's abolitionists, Charles Sumner, part of a growing Northern party called the Republicans. He was angry during the entire speech as the senator attacked slavery and demanded Kansas be admitted to the Union as a free state. America sat a few seats down scribbling bored on some parchment. South felt a sudden need to yell at him to keep his senators in line but refrained. This was the second day of having to listen to this verbal pollution.
Finally the man ended his speech and the meeting was adjourned. South made a bee line for his brother.
"I feel incredibly assailed," South muttered with a scowl.
America sighed, "He had some good points," America pointed out.
"Of course you would think so. He was especially rude and insulting. He mocked my senators, one with a disability that cannot be helped," South said in disdain.
America cringed, "Yeah," he answered refusing to elaborate to keep the peace.
South stared at America as if waiting for more, but when it became apparent that America wasn't going to continue South sighed. Perhaps it was better they didn't talk about this, but anger over the speech given by Sumner still burned in his mind.
"Is that all? I'm made out to be a complete fool in the Senate, and all you can muster is a yeah?" South was a little bitter.
"Humans don't understand what we do. Many Northern people dislike the Southern people and vic versa. It's only natural they attack each other," America attempted to be reasonable.
"But not in the government where things should remain well-mannered and cultivated," South ranted.
America felt an immature need to mock his brother like he had done Britain, but he knew it would only make things worse. For once, America was not going to let his brother get under his skin like he had in the past. America was the older brother and it was time he acted like it.
America and South entered the White House and instantly removed their coats. It was an extremely hot day in Washington. Everyone was impatient to get home and remove their garments and grab their fans. The two brothers were no exception.
"Yeah, listen it's been a long hot day. I think I'm going to head to my room and do some light reading in as little clothing as possible," America left South, who simply nodded his understanding.
Two days later found America and South out for a stroll and were actually having a good day when the Attorney General, John Crittenden, came running at them in a panic. He was one of the members of government who was aware that America and South were personifications. He was panting hard trying to catch his breath when he got there.
"America," he managed breathy.
America's eyes were wide. There was a slight unease tugging in his gut, but he had wrapped it up to eating too much earlier. It was apparent now that something had happened in his government.
"What's wrong, John?" America nearly demanded the question.
"He's going to kill him! Come quick!" was all Crittenden managed before he turned and led America and South to the Capital.
Inside there was a huge commotion and both South and America rushed towards it to see blood pooling in the Senate Chamber's floor. America's stomach dropped when he saw Sumner unconscious being beaten nearly to death.
"Hey! Stop!" America shouted and pushed people out of the way rushing to get to Sumner.
America managed to pull the attacker from Sumner ignoring pro-slavery representatives shouting at America to let the man continue his beating. America finally recognized the attacker, Preston Brooks, one of the Representatives from South Carolina and relative of Senator Andrew Butler, the man with the disability that Sumner had insulted.
"That is certainly not the punishment I had in mind for being ugly in the Senate," South said nonchalantly strolling into the room.
America glared at his brother, "He was nearly beaten to death!" America yelled picking up Sumner most likely to rush him to the doctor.
"Perhaps now that he is disabled he will know better to insult a disabled man. Especially one from my home," South replied with an air of superiority.
America wanted to argue more with South, but the bleeding was getting worse. America left the room ignoring South as the other personification helped Brooks up and treated him as if he had done something good. Right now America's priority was to save Sumner's life not scolding South on his behavior.
Later that night once it was determined that Sumner would live, America and South got into a heated argument just as things seemed to be getting better for them. Instead this whole incident seemed to have made their continuing divide worse than ever. America was extremely angry over the violence that had occurred, and was even more upset when Brooks hardly received any punishment for his actions. South defended him with fervor and even went as far as to call him a hero.
"Just the other day you said that government should be well-mannered!" America pointed out angrily.
"And if Sumner had been well-mannered none of this would have happened! He got what he deserved! Now, hopefully, everyone will keep their insults out of the Senate," South rebutted.
America was shaking with fury. For a moment, South felt his heart stop in fear that his brother might actually lose himself and attack South. Finally, America went strangely calm, walked purposefully towards the liquor cabinet, grabbed a full bottle, and left the room slamming the door. South left out the breath he had been holding before falling into a chair exhausted and closed his eyes.
What was happening between them?
Seems there is a pattern here. Both parties can feel each other losing the closeness they once shared, but they don't understand why its happening. They can't understand the other's reasoning behind their actions.
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