Ach, it took to long again. There goes one New Year's resolution.

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Moving forth to the Civil War prelude, I hope you enjoy!
I disclaim and own nothing.


Charlie was wringing his hands again, staring into the distance over the side of the wagon, and he craned his neck every once in a while to see around the driver instead.

Alfred watched his friend for a few minutes more, before giving a small sigh and pulling his glasses off his face. After rubbing as much of the dust as he could away, he put them back on. Charlie still looked pensive.

"What're you still so nervous about? I thought we'd cleared everything up at that last stop," Alfred asked, feigning nonchalance.

Charlie just shrugged in exasperation. "I don't know! If I did, maybe I could fix it!"

"Why don't you just tell me about your family? I've only really heard about Marcy… I've got to be prepared to meet all of them, you know!"

"S'not much to tell…" Charlie muttered.

"Go on."

Charlie quirked a smile, finally pausing in his hand-wringing. "Well, there's my parents, Peter and Helen… they're both pretty nice. Father's still pretty active as a lawyer, even though he's getting old. Mother had a bout of cholera a few years back and is still a bit shaky, but she's doing all right."

"Any siblings?" Alfred prodded.

"One brother. His name's Josiah, named after an uncle or something, he's a bit younger than me. There were a few others, but they all died really young."

Alfred nodded, urging Charlie to go on. Toddler deaths weren't uncommon even in the middle of the 19th century, despite all the medical advances Alfred had seen in his lifetime, so hearing of them didn't come as much of a surprise.

"Er… that's about it for my family. You might meet some of Father's lawyer friends too, they come over for dinner occasionally."

Alfred glanced at the sky as the sun moved past noon. "How much longer do you think it'll take to get to Springfield?"

"I don't know," Charlie answered, "I've never been very far out of town before this trip."

"And you decided to solve that by traveling the world? Bit much excessive for a first try, don't you think?" Alfred laughed.

"I wasn't planning on all that!"

Slowly the farmlands around them began to grow more populous, fields morphing seamlessly into country roads and villages, and then the city of Springfield itself. The wagon driver they'd hitched the ride with let them off there, and the pair continued on foot to the opposite side of town, where the Wetherby residence was.

Charlie was growing more excited (or possibly nervous, Alfred could no longer quite distinguish the two) until they finally stopped outside a quaint, whitewashed little building at the edge of the town proper.

Alfred's heartbeat pounded in his ears as they drew up to the front porch. He barely registered Charlie's, "don't worry, I'm sure you'll get on with my folks just fine," before Charlie had knocked and the door was opening—

And there was a boy, built like a twig and about Alfred's height with mousy brown curls, standing in the doorframe and gaping.

From inside the house came a voice. "Josiah? Who is it?" A woman emerged from behind the boy, wiping her hands on an apron. "Josiah…?"

Her eyes moved beyond the boy to the pair on the porch, and immediately focused on Charlie. Her hand darted over her mouth.

"Charlie… Charlie, you've come home!"

Charlie was abruptly all smiles as he allowed himself to be gathered in the shorter woman's arms. "I'm back, Mother. Miss me?"

"Of course I did, you stupid, stupid, son! You were supposed to be gone only a few months, a year at most, and then I have to hear from Marcy that you've decided to go traipsing about the world because you won't write to your own mother!" Charlie drew back, but though her words were scolding, she had tears in her eyes.

Finally looking over her son's shoulder, she noticed Alfred, who had taken a couple steps away to give the family space. "And who might this be?"

"Oh, this is Alfred. I met him in San Francisco, and really, you should blame him for the whole Japan thing. Not my fault."

The woman swatted Charlie's head. "You are perfectly capable of making your own decisions, Charles. There is no need to blame poor Mr…?"

"Jones, ma'am, Alfred F Jones," Alfred finished, giving her his most winning smile and a slight bow.

"Well aren't you the perfect gentleman! Unlike Charles here, who can't even be bothered to give a proper introduction. I am Helen Wetherby, and this is Josiah, my son." The other boy, who was still looking a bit in shock, gave a little wave.

"…And Mother? I'm going to fetch Marcy and have her over for dinner, if that's all right."

"Yes, yes, go find that darling fiancée of yours," Helen said. "But bring your things in first, and would you care for something to eat, Mr. Jones? Though you'll be staying for dinner, of course."

Alfred glanced at Charlie for confirmation, but he was already running off down the road in what was presumably the direction of Marcy's house. It then struck Alfred as stupid to not have had any idea what he was going to be doing for food and a bed, or where he was going after he was done here… but this was a Wetherby house. He felt fairly certain that he'd be all right.

… As long as that Josiah kid stopped looking at him so strangely. Really, it was growing unnerving.

_V~-~-~V_

Alfred tried to help Mrs. Wetherby out, he truly did. He supposed it wasn't his fault that the wood-splitting stump in their backyard was weakened from years of wood-splitting occurring on its surface, or that the metal tongs were cheaply constructed, or that the family cat had decided to scratch his face off.

Mrs. Wetherby stared in bewilderment at the hole Alfred's elbow had punched in the wall that divided the main room from the downstairs bedroom, the two pieces of metal that had been tongs dangling from her hands.

"I suppose we'll just have to hang a picture over it," she said weakly as she plucked a splinter of wood from the hole.

Alfred was apologizing profusely, but Helen decided to blame the cat. "You were surprised," she replied with a small smile, "and doubtless this wall was weak from rainwater or the like. Please don't pay it any mind, Mr. Jones."

But Alfred's nerves were sparking, his mind unable to focus, and his use of strength went unmonitored. He was still attempting to apologize when Charlie returned, a petite brunette in tow.

"Alfred, meet the lovely Marceline McKinley," he gave a grand sweep of his arm in the direction of the brunette, "and Marcy dearest, Alfred."

"It's nice to meet the lady I've heard so much about," Alfred grinned, "to put it mildly."

"Same to you, Mr. Jones."

"Alfred please, miss."

"Then it's Marcy to you, Alfred." She smiled prettily and gave a mocking curtsy.

"I'm sure you two'll get along just great," Charlie interrupted, a bit snappishly, putting an arm over Marcy's shoulders. "Now is Father back yet?"

"He hasn't yet returned," Mrs. Wetherby called from the kitchen.

"Probably bringing some lawyer friend, then," Charlie muttered.

Alfred was just calming down, laughing at Charlie's attempts to entertain Marcy while she attempted to help Mrs. Wetherby who was attempting to cook dinner as Josiah attempted to blend into the woodwork in the corner when the front door opened again.

"Helen? Mr. Lincoln is back in town, I've brought him for supper—"

Alfred turned slowly, the voice familiar even if it had dropped a bit in pitch since he'd last heard it—

"I said President Jefferson wants to see you! And when he sends me to find you, all I see is you sleeping on your paperwork!"

Good gods, his eyes still looked like hers, even if the face had crumpled a bit around them, even if the once-blond eyebrows above them were now streaked with grey. And oh, he could hear his heartbeat again, even if his nerves seemed out of place—

"Alfred?!"

A weak smile. "Long time no see, Peter."

The room was dead silent, the faces around Alfred betraying their bewilderment, even the tall, gaunt man who had come in behind Peter.

Josiah was actually the first to speak, comprehension dawning on his face as he exclaimed, "You're that Alfred Jones! I knew your name sounded familiar, Father always mentions you when he talks about Grandma Wetherby!"

But Alfred ignored him, seeing only Peter. Considerably older, his hair was thinning in places and his shoulders slumped slightly, but he looked fairly fit for someone around fifty.

And he certainly didn't look like he was going to speak anytime soon, so Alfred took the initiative, his nerves still going haywire as the what ifs swirled among the memories. "You never told me you got married. Where was my invitation? Does your family have something against me attending weddings?"

"… I couldn't find you after the funeral," Peter said slowly, not seeming to notice Alfred's faint flinch.

"Wait, wait—since when do you know my father?" Charlie exclaimed, gripping Alfred by the shoulder and giving him a shake.

Alfred turned away from Peter, focusing instead on his friend of the last year and then some. "I wasn't entirely sure he was your father, I mean, there're surely more Wetherby's in this country, and I didn't know if he'd told you—"

He abruptly whirled back to Peter. "Was it Paul?"

Peter nodded. "He explained everything before he died." He paused. "When did you get glasses?"

Alfred ran his hand through his hair, a short laugh escaping, but before he could reply, Mrs. Wetherby announced that supper was ready, they could catch up later, and wasn't Mr. Lincoln hungry?

"How impolite of all of you to leave a guest standing in the doorway!" she chastised, waving the broken tongs at her husband.

_V~-~-~V_

Thus supper began in an awkward spurt, Marcy and Mrs. Wetherby sitting last at one end of the table while Mr. Lincoln was placed in the seat of honor at the head. He was introduced to Alfred as Abraham Lincoln, a friend of Peter's from when they'd worked together as lawyers, and Alfred concluded that this was just a day for introductions of all kinds.

And with four lawyers in the vicinity, talk inevitably turned to politics, even as Alfred continued to watch Peter out of the corner of his eye.

"… and with the Kansas-Nebraska act passed last year, the civil war there will surely incite others in Washington to choose a side soon, don't you agree?" Peter asked, directing is question at the senator.

Abraham Lincoln was a very tall man, a good four inches or so taller than even Alfred, and one of the only people who had ever made him feel short. His face was craggy, his sharp cheekbones making it almost seem hollow in its unnatural thinness, but his eyes had that spark of intelligence and his voice that deep, honest quality (not to mention slight Kentucky accent) that made Alfred trust him implicitly.

"I should hope not," he replied somberly. "I do not believe anyone wants to go so far as to divide the country more than it already is, but the issue of slavery remains a morally controversial one."

"And what do you think?" Peter continued, his voice lowering as he glanced at the women.

"I find myself siding with the new Republican party politically, but morally…?" He sighed. "I feel that every man should have a chance at their own freedom, and I cannot help but hate the institution of slavery." Lincoln turned to Alfred, who was seated to his left. "What about you, Mr. Jones?"

Alfred opened his mouth, about to respond that of course slavery is wrong, it's mass forced labor and brutality, and hasn't every other country already taken steps to abolish it but something made him pause.

The economy, that something whispered in the back of his mind, America has one of the world's greatest farming systems, our exports are on par with the Caribbean colonies.

Morally wrong. America isn't as free as our leaders claim when a large portion of our citizens are enslaved.

But is it any fairer to take away peoples' property and livelihood, or deny them the rights to said property simply because of where they live?

Wrong.

Right.

"Alfred?"

Alfred's attention snapped back to the table, where Peter and Lincoln were still looking at him, expectantly but with a bit of concern.

"I—I don't know," he answered, his gut twisting as he said it, half of him rebelling at the admittance and demanding that he make up his mind one way or the other.

Peter looked a bit surprised at that. "Oh. I would have expected you to side firmly with the abolitionists, Alfred."

That's what Jefferson wanted, even in 1776.

Times have changed.

Alfred shrugged. "I guess I'd rather it not expand…" he couldn't imagine slavery in California, "but I don't really know what would happen to our economy without it, and there are an awful lot of people who wouldn't be able to cope with their livelihood being taken away."

Because that would divide America, and if there was one thing Alfred simply couldn't bear to imagine, it was America not being America, land of the free and home of the brave, just the way it was.

Lincoln nodded thoughtfully. "Slavery I believe is a monstrous injustice. A divided America is one I do not wish to live in, but if that is what it takes to open the eyes of the people…" he trailed off grimly.

Engrossed as Peter and Lincoln were as their conversation resumed, and as attached as Charlie was to Marcy, Josiah seemed to be the only one who noticed Alfred's shudder at Lincoln's words.

Funny, how it was only then that Alfred realized that the young man's eyes were that familiar shade of blue.

_V~-~-~V_

Peter had sat the family down that evening after Lincoln had departed for his own home and attempted to explain Alfred to them, starting with an uncle he'd never met named Zachariah and moving forward. Alfred had stayed mostly silent, except to correct him every once in a while as he listened to a retelling of a good fourth of his life.

Alfred had tried to answer their questions as best he could, even when they asked why. Shoving away the memories of witchcraft accusations and a false illness, he politely explained that he really did not know.

More than a little on edge thanks to the stares that followed him about the house and not wanting to impose on the Wetherby family for too long, Alfred had moved into a boarding house in Springfield. But when the proprietor moved out to Nebraska with the wave of other abolitionist types, Peter insisted that the spare bedroom was perfect for him, and that they definitely had enough food even for him.

Alfred stayed in Springfield because he couldn't really think of any other place he really cared to be, his technical only family was there, and Lincoln had offered him a job as a part-time assistant of sorts. Just for paperwork and such, not actually assisting on cases (Lincoln preferred to handle those by himself, and his track record was admittedly impressive). Personally, Alfred thought that the murder case of 1858 turned out to be the most impressive of all, especially when Lincoln had produced a Farmer's Almanac in front of the courtroom to disprove an opposing witness's evidence.

It was that same year that the Republican Party nominated Lincoln for Senator of Illinois, and he delivered a speech that Alfred would remember for years:

"A house divided against itself cannot stand. I believe this government cannot endure permanently half slave and half free. I do not expect the Union to be dissolved—I do not expect the house to fall—but I do expect it will cease to be divided. It will become all one thing, or all the other."

The man Lincoln was running against, Stephen Douglas, was the current Democratic Senator. "I've scheduled joint debates with him," Lincoln told Alfred one day. "You would best pack your bags; we've a trip around the state ahead of us."

The speech in Ottawa drew heavy newspaper coverage and a great number of people, but Freeport, Quincy, and Alton were packed, with people even from neighboring states filling the crowds.

"Slavery is an issue for everyone, not just the legislature of Illinois," Lincoln had calmly stated.

"But it looks like a prize fight out there!" Alfred exclaimed, before adjusting his stiff formal jacket. "There's got to be a few thousand people out there! This is absolutely the crazy!" He shook his head, glancing sideways at the stoic taller man. "With Douglas as the incumbent, I don't think you're going to beat him."

"If the Illinois legislature votes to distort the values of the founding fathers and undermine the values of republicanism," Lincoln quipped, "I will not protest. I am simply giving them a better option."

Alfred shrugged. "It's too bad the people don't vote."

"And turn Illinois into another Kansas? I disagree."

"Maybe on less volatile issues, then. It's not as if they aren't educated on politics, if this crowd is anything to go by."

"It's all or nothing where voting is concerned, Mr. Jones."

Alfred huffed. "You should just run for President if you're so 'all or nothing'."

Lincoln gave him a small smile. "I have to be nominated first for that to ever happen, and such a responsibility seems almost overwhelming."

"Nonsense. You'd do a bang-up job as a President, I know you would."

The crowd outside broke into applause as Douglas took the stage, the first to speak as usual. Alfred sat down.

"We've got an hour to wait for him to finish up. Do you want to polish up your counterargument for Douglas's Freeport Doctrine?"

_V~-~-~V_

Alfred returned to Springfield after Lincoln's defeat, giving the man some space to write his post-campaign book of debate texts, because that sounded downright boring. Instead, he found himself plunged into the flurry of wedding planning that Charlie and Marcy had begun.

"So wait… you two were never formally engaged until now?!" Alfred asked. "I thought you said you were when you showed me that handkerchief, and everyone knows you've talked about it enough!"

"Well…" Charlie shuffled his feet. "I kinda hinted at it, but I was planning on getting a ring with the Gold Rush money, and we all know how that worked out."

"You're an idiot."

"Says the guy who makes friends with whales and nearly screws up our Japanese diplomacy with your stupidity!"

"Hey, I make a fine diplomat, thank you very much. And someone needs to be friends with whales! Besides, that Kiku guy didn't have a problem with it."

"That's probably because he was too polite to say so!"

The newspapers had reported Perry's death the year before, due to complications of rheumatism, but his book was in print. Alfred had purchased a copy and found it rather dull, but kept it anyway. Charlie had refused to read "anything written by that bastard" and attempted to burn it. Marcy had promptly smacked him for his language and returned the book to Alfred.

"Anyway," Charlie continued, "we haven't really set a date yet, but we figure it'd be good to get things sorted ahead of time, and, er… I was kinda hoping you'd agree to be the best man, if you want."

"It'd be nice to finally attend one of your family weddings," Alfred mused. "But I don't know… I mean, I'd have to dress up and stand for who knows how long…"

"Fine, don't then!" Charlie exclaimed.

"Only joking, Charlie," Alfred laughed. "I'd like that a lot. But are you sure you want your uncle up there with you?"

Charlie started at that, and Alfred remembered why Charlie was his favorite Wetherby to just talk to: he generally forgot that Alfred was anything more than some slightly strange person he'd found in San Francisco.

"With the Pony Express open and that transatlantic cable, you could feasibly ask anyone," Alfred added.

"Yeah," Charlie agreed. "But you're closer and I can ask Father to ask you," he smirked.

Alfred mock-groaned, because he still found it harder than usual to refuse Emeline's son. "Aw, I guess I have no choice then! But do me a favor?"

"What?" Charlie's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Get that damn cat of yours under control, it scratched my face again. One of these days, it's going to get my glasses."

V/~-~-~\V


That's that for today... I hope you enjoyed it!
Please excuse my lateness (again) as I have been both busy and sick. Not a good combination.

This chapter was also more of a setup for things to come, establishing historical context, Lincoln and Alfred working together, the new Wetherbys, and the wedding bit, all of which will be important soon enough!

History-history-history-
Abraham Lincoln was born in Kentucky, then moved to Ohio, then to Illinois, where he set up his successful law practice. He was a congressman for a few years before returning to Springfield, and though he identified as a Whig, he was the Republican party nominee for the Senate in 1858 (when Senate seats were still voted on by state legislatures instead of the general population). The speech mentioned is part of the real House Divided speech that Lincoln gave upon being nominated, and is the source of many famous Lincoln quotes.
Among Lincoln's most-known criminal trial was as he defended William "Duff" Armstrong who was on trial for the murder of James Metzker. An opposing witness claimed to have seen the crime by moonlight, but Lincoln produced a Farmer's Almanac that showed the moon at too low an angle, which would drastically reduce the visibility, thus casting doubt on the witness's claims.
The Kansas-Nebraska act overrode the Missouri Compromise in that it allowed the people of the two states to decide for themselves whether they would become free or slave states. As a result, both had a huge population jump because both the pro- and anti-slavery people wanted another state on their side, so they attempted to swing the votes. There was a (more minor) civil war in Kansas as a result.
The Lincoln-Douglas debates are among the most famous in American history because they were mainly about slavery, which was the big issue of the time, attracting out-of-state attention and huge media coverage. Lincoln, while not running on an abolitionist platform, didn't want slavery spreading any farther and accused Douglas of distorting the founding fathers' ideals of equality, while Douglas accused Lincoln of going against the Dred Scott decision (more on that later). The debates went in the format of a 60-min speech by the first candidate, then a 90-min speech by the second, followed by a 30-min closer by the first. In the end, Douglas won, and Lincoln published a book containing edited-down versions of the speeches, which later helped him on his way to Presidential election.
The Republican Party gained strength around this time (and meant something much different than it does today). It was supported by the anti-slavery North and people like Lincoln, while the Democrats (also much different from today) supported the expansion of slavery in the west.
The Freeport Doctrine is basically the right for new states admitted to the Union to be able to choose whether or not to be free or slave- the Missouri Compromise previously had banned all slavery west of its borders, but the Kansas-Nebraska act ruined that.
Perry did write a book about his experiences in Japan, published in 1857, before he died in 1858 of a mix of rheumatism and various other ailments.

Phew. Hope this chapter wasn't too dull, with all the history and then just some personal things to clear up. But now it's late, and my nose is still stuffy, and I have to wake up early tomorrow, so that's all for now!

As always, if you have any thoughts or questions and the time to put them in writing, please don't hesitate to drop a review!