Capitol Punishment

Chapter 17 Y'all it's still gonna be political. Just another friendly warning.

"The hero is here!" was America's automatic response upon stumbling through the doors. The room quieted for a moment, Washington, London, Senator McConnell, and some other men in suits that he didn't bother to care about, stared slightly confused at him. England kept moving, a storm of contained fury stepped quietly over to London. They would have embraced in a hug, but there were people present and gentlemen had to control themselves. However, England was first to break the silence.

"And why, might I ask, was my capitol apprehended by officials of the United States government?" He asked tersely, anger making his green eyes look venomous.

"Wasn't me." Washington quietly squeaked.

"No, not you." England said rolling his eyes and softening up a bit. England was just stressed and over worried, but he had to be firm. There was his national security at stake from something he assumed was a stupid mistake on behalf of America's people. He had to be clear that this was unacceptable and should not happen again. But he also knew that Washington was not to blame, and he shouldn't make the capitol feel as if he was. Poor lad has been through a lot lately. He glared at the senators. Senator McConnell was first to respond looking smug and tortoise-like.

"Actually, it was him. Your capitol was in company of ours, and Washington is under the government's custody. He was consorting with him about meeting America. He is merely guilty by association."

America was confused when he was mentioned. "Wait, What?" He said stupidly. England's eyes widened in surprise.

London turned to McConnell with barely concealed outrage. "Pardon me? Consorting? I don't believe that 'consorting' is quite the right word here."

England recovered from his surprise and crossed his arms. "Please, enlighten us."

"We had to for national security," McConnell began, "Washington is not allowed to meet with any of you, and London snuck past us. We had to bring him in to see if any damage was done, but it seems all the harm was caused by Washington himself. London can leave when he pleases, after going through questioning and regulations of course."

England looked appalled, and London was about to speak when Washington interrupted.

"Washington, Washington, I've heard that a lot lately from you government officials," He said angrily, "What happened to Daniel? Suddenly you start calling me by my real name 'cause the cats out of the bag? You all knew this whole time, didn't you? You kept MY life from me." His arms gestured as he spoke, showing his frustration physically. He suddenly felt as if he had little control over his own life, as if there had always been somebody pulling the strings. It made his stomach churn and he felt like the ground was giving way beneath him, and he could crumble at any moment without any stable support.

McConnell's tortoise eyes narrowed at Washington, but he ultimately ignored the angry outburst. He could have men deal with this later. "Washington will have to stay here, but you all may leave. America, you have some waivers to sign now due to this incident—"

America spoke more intelligently this time, raising his hands to silent the senator. "Woah, hold on there, Mitch, you said they were consorting to meet me? Government custody? And the last thing I need right now is more damn paperwork, you can't just throw contracts at me to get me out if this situation. Tell me what's really going on here. Why isn't he allowed to meet with us?"

McConnell looked at Washington and gestured with false innocence. "I think that Washington can explain."

Washington did not want to explain. He wanted to shrink. Back into the bunker of his room under the stars and stripes. But he could already feel the regret of if he gave up and the guilt from the prompting and knowing look that Link would give him from the fish bowl. There had to be a way to fix this and if anybody could do it, it was America, the land of opportunity.

All eyes were on him and he believed there was still hope, so he swallowed his anxiety and spoke up begrudgingly.

"There is a law apparently. Senator McConnell just told London and me," he motioned to London, "that congress ratified an amendment for the constitution in 1961 that's specifically for me, the 23rd and half amendment—"

America couldn't take that. "What the fuck?" England bumped him on the arm and grumbled "Language." America angrily hissed, "Like you're one to talk," back at him.

"Let him finish." McConnell interrupted, tortoise face looking rather pleased with himself.

Washington continued rather miserably, staring at the floor in front of him. "He says that it prohibits America from 'organizing' with me, or something like that. I'm not quite sure how we missed that info, but it makes things a bit more difficult since it's a law." He looked up and met America's eyes.

America was angry, beyond angry, absolutely livid. There were many things he wanted to say, to yell, but for some reason, all that came out was an angrily punctuated "Why?"

McConnell took back the attention for this one. "Because congress doesn't want you two together. You cannot take care of him, as proven by the destruction of the first one. You are too 'impulsive, irresponsible,' and so forth. In the midst of your little spat with Russia called the Cold War, you endangered the lives of millions and congress had to take precautions to protect him. So in 1961, it was only fitting to cement it."

There was more to it, of course. Congress was unnerved, but prideful during the Cold War. They were afraid of endangering themselves, but since they insisted on causing strife against the Soviets anyway, they needed a safe guard. By "taking" Washington away from America, they were protecting themselves, taking the government away from any dangerous fire. America, the citizens, the land would take the brunt of any heat, of any nuclear missile, of any warfare if it ever came to be. To do that the Congress of the 1960's, more conservative as they were back then, turned to the past and rediscovered America's failure in 1814. It had only been assumed at the time that America and Washington didn't work together, because that had been the trend for over a century. But they took advantage of that trend, twisted it, and cemented it into the law so they wouldn't be liable for war and they could continue without suspicion. And America, for all that talk of being unable to read the atmosphere, knew enough about his people to figure all of this out. They never wanted them to find each other, and didn't tell them on purpose or prevented them from meeting for their personal gain or some larger goal and they had intended to keep it that way. He glared suspiciously at McConnell.

"It was to protect him from you," McConnell continued, "I pity the poor boy who burned in this city. I wonder if he could have done better."

Not any better than the one standing before us, America thought angrily. He clenched his fists at his sides, feeling disgusted at this performance. America remembered what the other Washington was like, that capitol was much younger than the one he knew now. Thinking about him, America was pulled into his memories of the Washington from long ago, memories that he had kept stored in the back of his mind because they disturbed him. America was younger as well, maybe 15 or 16 years old physically, but Washington was only 7, and America had no idea how to take care of a child. So he didn't. He concerned himself with the building of state governments and left Washington to his own devices with the federal government to figure him out. The kid was serious, dry, and uninteresting, he was too focused on creating a new and efficient government system to develop a personality that could catch America's attention span. America regarded him with indifference, a living thing that he knew almost unconsciously would get the duty done. A figure or a doll that would take care of the jobs that he didn't want to deal with, the problems that would wiggle up after the beginning of the United States had settled. America had done the fun part, the brainstorming with his founding fathers to create the foundation that defines him, that makes him special, and he was excited and still is proud of that history.

And when Washington first showed up, he was ecstatic; he was now independent and strong enough to support a complicated government of his own and he showered him with care and joy. But later, as he grew, that child that popped up to do the rest of the federal work made him uncomfortable with its steel gaze and strong voice, since they clashed with America's fun loving style. So America didn't try to interact with him, and left for long periods of time, only coming back when there was a problem that he couldn't avoid.

To Washington, he must have been unreliable, and uncaring, but America never got to show Washington how much he really cared when it mattered. And then America thought about the amount of irony in his memories, a growing trend that left a disappointed melancholy in his gut. It sounded a lot like his own story, the relationship between him and England. England, he learned back before his independence, was not someone he could rely on when he really needed him. It wasn't his fault though, the whole ocean made things difficult when travel took weeks and was often unsafe. That's why America learned to do things on his own, after he invested so much of his energy in his friendship with Davie for it to only crash back down upon him when England took too long. In the end, England was not much of a father figure, or even a brother, but neither was America when he was given the chance. England just planted the roots, like America did for Washington, and let the flower grow on its own unprotected from the weather.

Yeah, well the flower caught on fire. America was devastated when he showed up too late to save the 7 year kid. He felt the burn, deep in his chest where his heart was and each beat took his breath away. It ate him from the inside for days, he wanted to tear it from his chest and dunk it in the Potomac River if only it would soothe the pain. The regret at failing to get to even know the kid only made it worse, salt on the wound. He was too upset at the time to even think to look for the next capitol, and assumed that there wouldn't be one.

This is his second chance. Just like how England ended up being more of a good friend rather than a brother, America has the reins to create his own relationship with his capitol and he wants to do it right this time—he is the hero after all. This capitol is older, more relatable, and he was even friendlier than the last one. But, of course, just when America is so close to having his capitol again, all of this stuff happens, laws get in the way, and he has to suffer some sort of capitol punishment. But so does Washington, because now, for better or for worse, they were in this together.

McConnell clears his tortoise-like neck and America is brought back to the present. He knows that there is something else in his agenda, or why else continue to go through all this trouble to keep them separated? What could they possibly gain now by keeping them, the people and the government apart? With this administration America had trouble predicting how anything could turn out, it all seemed so spontaneous and he couldn't even keep track. Everybody, including England, were keeping silent, waiting to see how he would react.

America narrowed his eyes at McConnell. "There has got to be more to this than you're telling me. Telling him, even. What are you playing at?" He took a threatening step towards the senator.

McConnell looked uncomfortable, suddenly more rabbit than tortoise. Even he couldn't hold himself up to the United States of America. He relented, but not quite.

"Politics, it's a hungry game where you can never consume enough. I have to do a lot to make sure America wins—"

"No, not America, I'm America and I sure don't feel like a winner." America argued.

McConnell glanced at America from the side with his tortoise eyes. "There is a lot more to powering a super power than you know, and we have it all under control. We are going to make this country great again."

"Bollocks," England huffed, arms still crossed disdainfully across his chest, "That is utter bollocks, bull shite, those words are about as useful as meningitis. This whole ordeal could be easily solved by a child, but it seems you lot have to pull it through the meat grinder. It's lowering the quality of our lives."

America pouted, still hung up on the previous statement. "I thought I was already great."

London patted him on the back in a comforting manner. "Don't worry too much about it."

"I am overall uncomfortable with that." Washington added.

McConnell's face went back to its resting tortoise look, and he spoke with finality. "Alright, that is enough. All you men must leave. Washington must stay. You can come back tomorrow to discuss this if you must, but I have another meeting to attend to and Washington cannot leave this building." He gestured to two secret service members hidden among the other senators. "Take Washington to his room, and make for certain this time that he doesn't leave. Good day to you sirs." He walked out of the room rather briskly for an old tortoise man, the other senators nearly stumbling behind him like ducklings just trying to keep up.

Washington's face fell and said a small goodbye, but he did manage to keep his head high as the agents escorted him away. He seemed to bump into one of the agents a couple of times as he walked out the door.

Now alone in the room, America, London, and England looked at each other.

"Well, that was as bent as a nine-bob note," London said, "Now what?"

"I wanna stab 'em in the face." America growled angrily, face vicious like snarling dog.

"No, America, you can't just stab people in the face." England responded in a bored and patronizing tone, tilting his head to watch America.

America whipped his head around to look England in the eyes. "Oh yeah, thanks for the tip, Jack."

"If you're referencing Jack the Ripper, I may just slaughter you," England replied, pointing his finger at him for emphasis, "That was a bloody terrifying and dangerous time to be alive in Whitechapel. London was absolutely horrified."

London visibly shivered. They exited the room.

In the hotel room that night, London stared quietly at the ceiling, contemplating the hectic day. For some reason, he now had a strange hatred for tortoises that he couldn't quite explain. He also wondered about the intelligence level of Washington's fish. That boy seems so think that his gold fish can communicate with him, and he implies it without any hint of abnormality. Hopefully that fish is giving Washington some sense of comfort right now, since he is once again locked away in his room like Rapunzel in her tower. The lad sure is a handful. But he isn't alone, and he should know that by now. America was planning on fighting for him, almost like a divorce case, and London almost volunteered to be his lawyer. They were going to get through this together, he was sure of it. His phone buzzed on the table beside the bed, startling him out of his thoughts. He leaned over and squinted into the light.

Yo brit stick.

London laughed. That little bugger had his phone taken away by the agents and he was still was causing mischief.

Wot mate? How are you texting me from your phone? I saw them take it.

Dude, pickpocketing.

Is that what all that bumping was for? You have to be more subtle about it. Quick fingers.

Pshhh, who are you, Oliver Twist?

London scoffed, texting with his quick fingers.

He wasn't even the pickpocket, and I am a master at pickpocketing, I grew up all over London. I am more artful than the Artful Dodger.

Ahh wait I'm distracting us again, anyway let's see if I can get out again tomorrow :)

Like that worked out so well today

Meet you at your hotel?

Just try not to get shot again

No promises ;)