hey gang a month late as usual. heres a christmas story that becomes very uh depression centric. ive been wanting to write this chapter for a long time but it never came when i wanted it to ya know? but here she is in all her glory i hope you enjoy i certainly did while writing it :]

Please R&R

Alfred curled in on himself as a cold wind blew through him, nearly ripping the scrap of paper he was holding out of his hands and throwing a burst of freezing snow across his cheeks and glasses. God, he really hated the midwest in the winter, the snow came by the foot, the ice had sent him sprawling three times since he got off the plane, and the wind was making it a personal mission to make any part of his body exposed red, numb, and yet, dripping wet somehow. Another gust of wind howled around him, and the heat of the gasp he let out fogged up his glasses even as he snuggled into the botched prototype scarf he'd knit in preparation for Alaska's delayed Christmas visit.

And that was why he was here! Christmas was in a few days and while Al had gotten everybody multiple gifts he was absolutely sure they would adore, all of Tex's were lacking that special something. That something allowed him to know which gift was going to be given last, the one that he needed to have his Poloroid ready for, the one that turned a gift in The Gift. He'd really let it come down the wire this time and the anxiety he'd been feeling for the past couple weeks just about ate him alive. Alfred was the kind of person who started Christmas shopping in June! He'd had Hawaii's gift picked out since nearly last Christmas and Alaska's scarf had been finished nearly a month ago, everyone else was so easy to gift shop for in comparison, but Tex always gave him trouble.

He and his brother shared nearly everything and one wanted something the other got it. It was like they had twin telepathy! Which was awesome until Alfred realized that he'd given Tex all his best present ideas six months ago. This happened almost every year, and with Tex's birthday always getting lumped together with Christmas it meant the pressure was on to get him the best gift possible.

Alfred needed to make up for it. It, of course, being the fact that everyone always wished Tex a Merry Christmas before a Happy Birthday and that really stunk. Al always sees the slight slump in Tex's shoulders whenever that happened, or whenever their friends all left for their own homes or territories on the 28th so they could celebrate the New Year with their own people. Then Tex would put on a big smile, one with all his pearly whites on display, and push them out the door with all the pleasantness of a born and bred southern gentleman. The next few days would be filled with all the things Tex loved best, like scary movie marathons, spicy eating contests, and secret pillow fort sleepovers. They'll play their beat up Atari and get drunk laying next to the old wood fireplace while listening to Johnny Cash and Tex's guilty pleasure ABBA; and it'll be great! Al just can't help but feel like it's only damage control, though, like everything he does is just bandaid over a great, big, gaping wound that Tex's old family left and is constantly reopening no matter how hard he tries.

This year, though, the yearly Birthmas scramble that gripped Al didn't let go. He just couldn't find the right gift, no matter which mall he went to, or what record store he browsed, nothing stood out. Tex has everything he wanted and that was a really bad thing! Alfred needed to get him a big gift, give him something that showed just how much he meant, a present that was just as special and thoughtful as brother pretended not to be. So he kept looking, and he kept looking and he kept looking; and nothing was shaking out. Every time he found something he thought Tex would like, it didn't have that sparkle to it. At first it was frustrating but as the weeks crept by, and the snow piled up and the Christmas specials started airing on TV, it became worrying and then it became panic inducing.

He'd never given a dud gift! Not for anyone he really cared about and certainly not for his brother.

But then, he'd found it. It was almost an accident, really.

He'd been driving through one of the little towns near Charlottesville, one with a lot of open fields and not a lot of development (though by the looks of it that wouldn't be for long). It had been a long day of the higher ups arguing over what to do about the reescalation of the civil war in Lebanon and whether that action was going to cost a significant amount of money or not. In the end, as it had been for the past few months, nothing was decided and Alfred left the building feeling more worn than he ever had when he was in active combat.

So he'd treated himself to a little drive, something to clear his head and get out all that pent up energy. Alfred picked a random exit on the way back home and kept on driving until there was more farmland than buildings and cows than people. After about twenty minutes of driving in increasing darkness, he came to an open field, one with just enough melted snow that he could easily drive through it, parked his car before climbing on his hood and allowed himself to finally breathe.

He could have sat there for hours. It was still and quiet, with a breeze that reminded him of the type of winters he weathered as a child, the type of cold that always made him yearn for something he couldn't have and shouldn't want. His breath puffed out in front of him, up into the air and away from view, while tiny snowflakes gently fell around him, unburdened by the constant motion of the earth like he always seemed to be. Another icy wind blew through, turning his ears red even as his puffer jacket shielded him from the worst of it, and Alfred knew that he had to get home soon. Tex would have an aneurysm if he spent another night out in the middle of nowhere.

He let out a sigh, casting his eyes around the field one last time, before sliding off the almost painfully cold hood and back into his equally cold car.

Alfred has driven back slowly, dreading the fight on the highway and the too loud noises of the city he was bound to enter sooner or later. As he turned onto the first paved road he could find, Alfred saw a sign advertising a collectors meetup. The red paint of the wooden sign boasted toys of all kinds, vintage games and an auction with a big arrow pointing in the opposite direction he was going. Alfred checked the clock, nearly seven thirty and with the traffic Al was bound to get back just after nine. Well, in for a penny in for a pound; Tex was already going to be upset about him missing dinner so what was another hour or so?

One U-turn and three dirt roads later, Al found himself standing in front of a very lively old barn. Warm, yellow light shone from the loft window and soft music welcomed him as he entered the ajar double doors. Inside there were rows and rows of tables set up, people, old people, were mingling, chatting to each other and gently inspecting all types of gadgets and gizmos that Al faintly recognized from years past. He slowly entered the meandering flow of foot traffic up and down the aisles, trying to figure out why exactly he was here and if he should just cut in line because wow, these old folks were slow!

Alfred let out a little huff as the couple in front of him slowed to yet another stop, before picking up an old Howdy Doody Monkey. He was in pretty good shape all things considered; most kids he knew that had these beat up on 'em pretty bad. This Howdy Doody still had his pastel yellow shirt one, and all his fur intact, even his admittedly creepy eyes seemed a bit sweeter in the warm light around him. Al fiddled with him for a moment, pulling his shirt down and bruising the fur back away from his face, he made the little toy wave to him before setting him down.

The couple in front of him seemed to have disappeared in the few minutes it took Al to make sure Howdy Doody had the proper chance at finding a home, and there was a straight shot to the exit in front of him. He smiled, silently thanking the little monkey for repaying his kindness immediately, before making a break for it.

"Well, young man, I don't think I've seen you at any of our recent meet-ups." A crackling voices piped up behind him.

Al froze, shoulders slumping. He'd been caught. "Uh, no ma'am. I–just saw your sign on my way back home and…wanted to check you guys out, I guess." He smiled crookedly, "But I don't really know what I'm looking for and why I even came here, so I'm just gonna go–uh, home now."

The old woman smiled, her teeth bright white and her curls peppered with streaks of white, "Oh, nonsense. You must have come here for something. I saw you with my daughter's old Howdy Doody Monkey, I can see you care greatly for trinkets and all the little loving things no else seems to." She paused there, taking in his appearance, before holding out her hand, "But don't worry, young man, you're among like-minded company." She gestured to the crowd around them, "Everyone here has something from their childhood they just couldn't let go off!"

"Well–not me! I was actually about to leave; so sorry for wasting your time, but I gotta get home to my broth–"

"That must be it then! Your brother!" The woman said her grip warm and soft in the way only old people's can be, "What does he want; Christmas is just around the corner you know." She winked at him.

Alfred sighed at the reminder, "That's the thing. His birthday is coming up and I need to get him a great gift so that he doesn't get all sad the way he always does when everyone lumps his birthday in with Christmas. But I can't find anything this year and it's killing me!"

"Tell me about him."

And so Al did. He told her about his brother who was so good when he wasn't an asshole, who was so brave and kind and was the only person in the whole world Alfred knew he could depend on completely. He told her about all the little things Tex did for him, and all the big things he'd done as well, told her about the high times and the hard times in the most human way he could muster; but trying to fit a century's worth of memories into a twenty year timeframe got harder the more he spoke.

Eventually he ran out of things to say, and when he looked up the woman was smiling at him in that soft way Hawaii did sometimes, "Well, Alfred, your brother sounds like a wonderful young man; and I think I have a solution to your little problem. She pulled out a little notepad and pen, and scribbled down something, "I have a friend who has a very specific collection of items that I think will solve your gift problem." She handed the slip of paper to Alfred, "I give her a ring tomorrow; she lives in Chicago and when you get there just tell her ole Edie sent you." With that she walked away.

Alfred glanced down at the paper, in careful script an address had been written under the name Miss Dorothy, "Hey, Edie, wait! I don't even know what this collection is! I'm not driving across four states for some mystery collection!" He yelled after her.

"Don't worry so much; it's all Betty!"

Today was a bad day.

No, the entire week had been terrible.

In fact, he'd go as far as to say that'd it been a dreadful couple of years.

Alfred let out a shaky breath, bracing himself for the shock of pain that was about to hit him as he rolled on his side. There sure as the sunrise, was a pounding pulse of sharp pain resonating behind his eyes, and when he moved to dig his hands into his eye sockets they shook so terribly he just about punched himself in the cheek. A whimper fought its way out of his throat, whether it was from the throbbing in his face or the roiling of his stomach he didn't know, but the sound caused another bit of pain to reverberate through his skull either way.

He hated this! Hated feeling this way all the time! Alfred had never been this weak; even when he was a vulnerable toddler in a land full of barbarians. He'd always had his strength, his constitution, his ability to continuously get back up. Now, though, it seemed as if he'd lost it all and in its place this debilitating sickness had made its home.

It'd been like this since the stock market crashed a few years back. And Alfred had crashed with it, right through a window. He'd woken up woozy and unsteady, his cuts unhealed and still oozing blood. Since then he'd been unable to work steadily, having to take days and days off when his ailments flared up and left him bedridden. He would work a few days, temporary jobs with pitying mothers and disappointed men who knew that within the month he'd be unable to walk from the vertigo or overcome by his own heart's inability to work properly.

As if hearing what Alfred thought of it, his heart decided to skip another beat. A shock of adrenaline coursed through him, causing his muscles to spasm and his headache to worsen somehow. A few stray tears fell down his nose and onto the threadbare blanket he was clutching. Curling in on himself, Alfred tried to feel anything but pathetic and sorry for himself, but it was almost impossible.

Here he was, the hero of The Great War, brought low by an economic crash and his own traitorous body.

A few minutes or hours later, it was hard to tell these things when all one could do was sleep, the front door creaked open, "Allie!" Tex said in his very particular version of whispering, "I got a surprise for ya!"

The bedroom door opened, and with it the buzzing light of their kitchen. Alfred groaned, throwing his lumpy pillow over his head and turning away as quickly as possible (which wasn't very). Before he could fully burrow into the covers, Tex grabbed a flailing arm and shoved the pillow away, "Ah, ah, ah, Al! You gotta get outta this room; doctor's orders." He said, a smug smile on his face.

Alfred glared up at him, trying to ignore how boney Tex's fingers had become or the prominence of his cheekbones, "Which doctor?"

"Doctor Tex Jones, a'course!"

Alfred let out a put upon sigh, "You ain't a doctor, no more than I'm a priest." He yanked his arm away, "Now leave me alone. 'M tryna sleep…"

Tex rolled his eyes, "No, I'm not gonna let you waste away in this room. Again."

The bed dipped beneath Al and suddenly he was upright. What was surely stomach acid bubbled up Alfred's throat, the room darkened and then just as quickly brightened and his headache went from manageable if he was asleep to something he would only wish upon his worst enemies. Alfred gripped his brother's arm, his nails surely leaving bloody crescents in their wake, but honestly, Texas deserved it.

"Woah, there, cowpoke!" They slowly lowered to the floor, Tex's free hand rubbing shoulder, and petting away his wayward bangs.

When the room finally stopped spinning, Alfred let out another shaky breath and glared up at his brother, "Why would you do that!?"

Tex had the decency to wince, "I'm sorry, Al. I just–I made a few extra bucks today and thought we could go see that movie you been wanting to watch. The scary one, Jekyl and Hyde?" He looked away, staring at the floor, "But, I didn't think you were that sick today; so we can wait lemme help you to bed–"

Alfred put a hand on Tex's, "You really mean we can afford it?"

Tex smiled, and for a second Al could almost forget the bags under his eyes of the limpness of his hair, "Hell yeah! You know I don't mess around with money."

"Well, then what're we doing here?"

The walk to the cinema was a slow one. The cold really took all the energy out of Texas and Alfred had to stop several times on the way to stop his head from spinning, but as they made their way through the city, brushing shoulders with their people, Al couldn't help but feel a bit of that old strength return. By the time they found some seats and the film was about to begin, Alfred felt better than he had in weeks!

The lights in the theater dimmed, and the curtains pulled back to reveal the newest Fleischer Talkertoon. Alfred sat back, a little disappointed it wasn't a Disney, but he figured any short was better than not having one at all. As the credits faded in, headlining a 'Betty Boop and Bimbo'. The animation opened with a big-headed lady in a pretty scandalous dress, in fact he could see her garters and entire upper thigh! Alfred rolled his eyes; great it was going to be a love story, those were always the worst. The lady, Betty she must have been, was torn between an old crotchety king and little Italian scatting dog who must have been Bimbo. He smiled at that, Bimbo kind of reminded him of Romano during his brief stay with Alfred in New York, all smooth talking and funny sounding when he really got wound up. Which was, honestly, a pretty frequent occurrence. Eventually the little dog and the king started fighting over Betty, tugging her back and forth, which seemed kind of rude to Alfred but he didn't understand girls half the time.

He tilted his head to whisper that thought to Tex when suddenly the skirt of her dress raised and raised until both garters and her bloomers were showing! Alfred turned red, a loud guffaw escaping his throat at the blatant show of indecency. He reached his arm out to slap Tex, to get him to say that this was some sickness induced hallucination. When he turned to his brother, though, expecting to see a similar look of horrified outrage, he was instead met with the most intense look of concentration he'd ever seen from Tex. His eyes were glued to the screen, a big, open-mouthed smile on his face and he was so leaned forward he was almost on top of the person sitting in front of him.

Alfred let out a breath of air, shocked at his brother's degenerate behavior, "Tex!" He whispered loudly.

"Whu?" He breathed out, eyes not moving an inch from the screen.

"Texas Jones, this cartoon is filthy! How can you watch it!?" Someone shushed him from behind and Al glared over Tex in that general direction. He poked Tex, hard, "Answer me!"

Texas finally glanced away from the screen as the cartoon ended, thank the Lord, "Allie." He said severely, and Alfred straightened up at the tone in spite of himself, "I think I'm in love."

So Betty Boop was a pretty big deal to Texas from then on.

They went to almost any showing that aired her beforehand, oftentimes sneaking out before the actual film started. It was annoying at first, and every time Tex told him to 'calm down and enjoy the view' while gesturing to a shot of Betty with her shirt down and skirt up, all Alfred could do was try desperately to ignore the urge to run crying to the nearest parish. As the toons continued to roll in, though, Alfred did end up enjoying the near weekly outings, even if they had to lie and steal their way into the cinema more often than not. And, after a while, it was one of the only things that could make Tex smile on a bad day which came more and more often as the Dirty 30s continued to beat down on them.

Which was why he ended up in Chicago three days before Christmas in the middle of a blizzard.

Another icy wind blew through him, grumbling he finally decided that if this wasn't the right address he at least might get a pity cup of coffee out of it. He knocked a gloved hand against the worn wooden door, suddenly aware of the fact that this Betty collector could be out on a grocery run or worse off at some relatives house.

Luckily, just as he was about to knock a second time, the door flew open and another equally eccentric woman greeted him. She grabbed his raised hand and pulled him in doors, barely asking him what he was here for before shoving a cup of hot cocoa into his hands and demanding he warm up in the kitchen where she was busy baking.

"So," She said, red lipstick loud against her dark skin, "what brings a nice young man like you all the way up here?"

Alfred cleared his throat, trying to dispel the lingering cold, "Well, ma'am, I met a friend of yours–"

"Oh, you're the boy Edie was telling me about the other day!" She turned to scrutinize him, pushing her large cat-eye glasses up her face, "What's your name, young man? I can't seem to remember all of a sudden."

"Alfred F. Jones, ma'am."

She grinned like a cat that got the cream, "I knew it!" She sat down heavily in the chair across from him, leaning on her elbows, "You named after your grandfather, boy?"

Alfred bit back the urge to say something ridiculous like he doesn't have a grandfather at all, unless one counted Pangea, "Uh–yes?" He said, wondering if he'd somehow broadcasted to this old lady that he wasn't exactly human. He really didn't want to have her debriefed over the holiday.

"And he lived in the Bay Area, back in the thirties, huh? I think I knew him when he was about your age." She swirled her mug in her hands, "You're his spitting image!"

Alfred narrowed his eyes, she obviously knew them back when they were slumming it in California, "Oh, really. I'm sorry, Edie didn't give me your name."

The woman blinked before letting out a big laugh, "Oh dearie me, I'm so sorry Alfie! I'm not used to meeting new people anymore! You can call me Dot!" She held out her hand for a shake or a kiss he wasn't sure (greetings had changed so much), but it didn't matter cause all he could do was stare in open-shock at the old woman that Spitfire Dottie Evans had become.

"I'm very sorry, Alfred, but I just can't afford to keep you on the payroll." Mr. Merriman said, his hands tight behind his back.

"But sir, I need this job. Me and my brother–"

"I know, boy." He sighed, world weary in the way only old men can be, "You and your brother are fine young men, and I wish I could help, but I can barely afford to keep on even the most essential of staff and…" He trailed off.

Alfred bit down on the inside of his lip, trying to keep desperate tears from falling, "I'm not essential. I understand." He whispered.

Mr. Merriman's eyes softened. He wiped the sweat forming on his brow, before setting a heavy hand on Alfred's shoulder, "I know times are hard, and it seems cruel, but I know you're resilient. A smart boy like you can find a job anywhere; just don't give up."

Alfred swallowed back the anger he felt at those words, and nodded in silence, before turning heel and almost running from the Merriman's practice. The walk back home was somber and filled with self-pity, something he was becoming more and more familiar with in recent years. He had desperately needed this job, something steady and good paying that would keep a roof over their heads and their bellies from aching.

Packing their things and running away to California was something neither of them were exactly proud of. It felt like the coward's way out, like they were giving up on the home they had created in the last few decades, but in the end there wasn't much of a choice. Tex and Al were two sick teenagers without a dollar to their name, and that was not the most attractive feature to most employers. Even the unnatural charm they had, the charm they had so often used back in the 1890s to keep jobs they had died doing, failed them.

It was as humiliating as it was relieving to escape the slums of New York City.

It hadn't been an easy journey, one filled with sleepless nights and days gone hungry; but as they got away from New York, away from the East Coast where Al felt most at home, a sense of lightness filled them both. He had worried his ailments would worsen the farther he wandered, that being away from Virginia and the original colonies would sap the last of his strength, but in the end nothing changed. He was still unable to walk for long, continued to live with painful migraines and shaking hands, but if anything, the open road comforted him.

It was slow going, but as the roads began to crack with disuse and the houses scattered, Alfred could almost begin to picture this agonizing exercise in weakness as an adventure. He could pretend that he and Tex were back in Oregon Country, that they were simply exploring the land and not running from their own empty wallets. It was a comforting thought, and both boys seemed to indulge in it for as long as the could.

Once they crossed into the flatlands, and the winds began to pick up, though, Alfred noticed Tex slowing down. It started with Texas complaining about the heat, which should have been the moment Alfred knew something was absolutely wrong with his brother. Texas loved a hot day more than anything, would lay out in the sun soaking up its warmth for hours on end if he could get out of work. Then he started insisting on more frequent breaks, (he was worried about Al is all), which quickly evolved into hour long sit downs and then into daytime naps. He was thirsty all the time, and couldn't seem to keep a meal down. It worried Alfred to no end, but with no money for a doctor and no home to rest he kept his mouth shut and tried to keep their pace up.

Then the coughing began.

It was something both of them tried to ignore. Just another problem neither of them were equipped to deal with, and so, they didn't acknowledge it. Besides, a few coughs here and there meant nothing to a Nation, not even the most deadly and incurable disease could actually harm someone like them. If death was the worst consequence this world had to offer them, it was sorely out of luck when it came to the Jones Boys. Sadly, those coughs became hacks which became fits which became episodes, and one day Alfred looked up and realized Texas could barely go a few hours without coughing his throat raw.

Eventually they made it to California, narrowly avoiding a harsh landing in Miseryville. Texas' symptoms stagnated alongside Alfred's and both painstakingly found jobs willing to hire two orphan Okies. The pay was terrible and the hours worse, but they could afford the room they were renting, food, and had enough left over for pain relief and a prescription for Asthma Cigarettes at the local pharmacy. Now though, with Alfred out of a job and Tex's symptoms doing their best job at leaving them destitute, even those small comforts had been ripped from them.

Alfred let out a bone-tired sigh as he turned the corner of his street, waving at little Miriam as he passed her barefoot in the road. He quietly slipped into their tenant building, and quickly unlocked the door to the room he and Tex had been staying in for the past year. Once he was safely inside and away from the prying eyes of their neighbors, the tears finally fell. He slid down the door, letting out a pitiful whine and burying his face in his hands. He didn't know how he was going to tell Texas, he didn't know where he was going to find another job, he didn't know how long they were going to even have this room! Everything was falling apart, and no one was willing to help them. No one cared to help them.

No one had for a long time.

He stayed like for a while, rocking himself back and forth on the dirty floor, praying to God for some type of salvation. Praying for a job he knew wouldn't come, praying for his health and strength to return, praying for their government to remember they exist and feel everything happening to their country. His tears turned to sobs at that feeling of hopelessness that had been creeping up on him for the last few years as the Great Depression forged a new unwilling normal for him and his brother. He didn't want to be sick forever, didn't want to watch his brother cough up blood every few hours for eternity, but unless some wonderful effort arose to bring their economy up and end the drought in the Midwest, what he wanted didn't matter. Eventually, he cried himself into an exhausted and pain-filled sleep, curled on the floor in his useless work clothes and hiding from the outside world.

A loud banging woke him up.

Alfred startled awake, his bones protesting the sudden movement and his oncoming headache the noises coming from outside. He dully registered someone was yelling, screaming really, for him and in that instant he was up and nearly ripping the door from its hinges.

Dotty Evans' tear stained face greeted him, her glasses were crooked on her nose and her new saddle shoes were covered in red dust. She was panting and heaving like she'd run all the way here from her school, "Mr. Alfred!" She took in a breathless gulp of air, "You gotta come to the factory!" She doubled over, "It's your brother!"

Alfred moved to steady her, afraid she was going to pass out, "What's wrong with Tex, Dottie!?"

She gripped onto his shirt, and Alfred was suddenly aware of the intimate scene they were creating, "He's having another episode!" She yelled, and when Alfred opened his mouth to tell her Tex had episodes near daily, "But it ain't like anything I ever seen before!" She panted again, before pulling herself away from him, "He's coughing up black–dust or… But that can't be possible, can it?" She said almost to herself.

Black dust? Was Tex–? "Take me to him." The girl just stood there for a moment, "Now, Dottie!"

With that they took off. Tearing through the streets like a pair of wild children, screeching at Mr Merriman as they passed to open a bed for Texas and to prepare for the worst. Dottie added that last one, and Alfred was suddenly aware that his brother might die and then they'd really have to leave California, or at least this town with its nice people and investment in the Colorado Water Project.

They skidded outside of the factory Texas had taken a job in. One set in manufacturing the materials needed for the Hoover Dam, and booming as far as anyone in town was concerned. They'd lucked out when it came to his employer, a sympathetic man with a frail child of his own, who looked the other way when Texas spent ten minutes on his knees coughing.

Alfred burst through the double doors of the entrance, ignoring how they banged against the concrete walls unnaturally, and sprinted to the circle of men near the left side of the building. Pushing the men in front of him almost too hard for a human to handle, Alfred skidded to his brother's side, kneeling near his head.

Texas nearly lying flat on the floor of the factory. One of the men turned to Alfred as he forced himself into Texas' space, "He had a fit like usual, but it kept going and then he collapsed! There's something in his hand that came up, but I don't have a clue what it is."

Alfred nodded, before shoving his hand into his brother's mouth and causing his gag reflex. He tried to avoid doing this in public, but once he and Tex had discovered that vomiting helped get the dust out of his system a few months back this was their go to method of ending a fit. Hopefully, it would be unnoticeable underneath Tex's breakfast.

Only Tex's breakfast didn't come out. Just dust and phlegm and dark blood. It was horrifying and Alfred could feel this shift in the air as the men closest to Texas gasped in horror. It didn't look anything like something a human could produce, and the sheer amount was inconceivable. It smelled like the earth, like dry soil and dead plants, and the acrid sting of human throw up. THe minutes stretched on as Texas just kept hacking and hacking and hacking up more black dust mixed with stomach fluids. It was as disgusting as it was terrible and Alfred knew he'd have to call up the government to have every man here debriefed on Nationhood and what exactly that meant for Texas' illness.

There was commotion behind him again, as a few policemen ran into the building with a gurney and shuttled Texas off into the old things they passed off as an ambulance. Alfred followed in a daze, trying to figure out how he was going to word the letter he needed to write to their boss about what was happening to them. It was embarrassing to require help from humans, even from the government, but this time Alfred couldn't deny just how bad the situation had gotten.

The next few hours were some of the worst in Alfred's recent memory. His brother began to seize once they settled him in the hospital bed and continued to do so on and off for the day and a half. Alfred stayed awake the entire time, wishing he could shoulder the burden Texas had, wishing that when Texas had been annexed he'd simply passed all the physical responsibilities on to Al instead of stubbornly clinging on.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Alfred looked over to where Dottie was standing. She'd changed her clothes and fixed her hair, but her shoes were still covered in dust, "Tex. Will he be alright?"

Alfred looked down at his brother, pale and quiet and all too thin, though that wasn't a new development, "Yeah." He said quietly, "He's too stubborn to let something like this take him out." He tilted his head, "What were you doing over by the factory anyway?"

She smiled, walking over to the seat on the other side of Texas' bed, "I was bringing your brother some leftovers. My mama tries to watch out for him." She said, before turning to him, "You too, I guess. Though I don't think she knows you exist in more than name."

"I don't think Tex–"

"Would take 'em? No. he never does." Dottie huffed out, her hand hovering over Tex's splayed out palm. She smiled softly, "He will one day, though, even if I have to walk with him all the way home and put them in the icebox myself!" Their eyes met and suddenly Alfred knew why Tex had started spending so much time in the mirror recently. They laughed.

"How is he by the way!" Dot asked, pulling her hand back.

Alfred blinked again, shaking away the memories, "Oh, he's great! Old, but he's still kicking!" He said falling into the role of distant grand nephew.

Dot smiled in that same way she did all those years ago, "That's good. I'm glad he found his way after the way and everything that came after. But," She said, clapping her hands together, "you're not here to listen to an old woman reminisce! You're here for Betty!" Dot stood up and began walking down a set of thin stairs. She babbled on about her love for Betty, how long she's been collecting and just what exactly she looked for in her Betty merchandise. It was all very mundane, and Alfred lost himself in the conversation. He'd miss Dottie more than he thought he did. The war had sort of cleared her from his mind, but seeing her happy and healthy made something warm light up in his chest. They wandered around her basement for the next hour or so, chatting about his grandpa and great uncle's old adventures in California, as well as Dot's life after they parted. She'd lived a good life, found a loving husband and had three girls and two boys. She'd moved to Chicago to be near her youngest daughter after her husband passed and has been living here ever since.

"You know that's when my collection really took off! You see, I met up with Edie after she moved away…" Dot kept talking, but Alfred couldn't hear because he'd found it.

The Perfect Gift.

She was standing a little over a foot high, in denim jeans and plaid shirt and cowboy hat and boots. In her hands was an open lasso held by tassel gloved hands; Betty stared upwards demurely with big green eyes and bright yellow star earrings. She was everything Tex could ever want and more. He didn't care about the price or the fact that he was going to have to stare at her every day for the rest of their lives; this was one of the best gifts he will have ever given Texas!

"Alfred, are you–oh!" Dot said, wandering back over to him, "I had a feeling you'd pick her!" She reached over and gently set her in her box, "There." She pushed the box into his hands, "She's all yours."

Dot began to walk up the stairs, leaving Alfred in stunned silence. He could see the price tag on the box, this statue was expensive. He wasn't going to steal from his friend! Especially not now that she was an old lady! He raced up the stairs after her, "Hey wait! I can't take this for free! I got the cash!" He yelled.

Dot was already at her front door, and when he came racing around the corner she opened the door and somehow found himself outside. She pulled a cookie out of her robe pocket, and placed it on top of the box, "You know, Tex is the one who introduced me to Betty. She's been my girl ever since, and whenever I see an old short of her I remember all the times I spent with him." She leaned against the doorframe, "We were good friends, your uncle and I, could have been more, if we lived in a different time. So consider this a parting gift between old friends, huh?" Dot patted him on the cheek with soft eyes, "Tell Texas that Ole Spitfire Dottie sends her regards."

Then she shut the door in his face.

Alfred spent the drive back to Virginia contemplating just how many people in that town actually knew what they were and if that was something he should be worried about. By the time he was pulling into the driveway he had decided that if Dottie was going to blow their cover she would've done it by now, besides she made some killer snickerdoodles and Alfred never betrayed a fellow baker.

A few days later when everyone had come and gone, and Texas was feeling just as sad as he always felt on his birthday, Alfred pulled out the gift. He decided to hold off on this one, Alaska and Hawaii had a hard time understanding the 30s or any of the tough times before it. This was something for just the two of them to share, this memory of a girl who doesn't really exist anymore.

As he tore through the wrapping paper and opened the box, Texas stopped and pulled out an old photo. He held it up with a bright laugh, "Where'd ya get this Al?"

"Get what?"

Texas pulled out an old picture from the box, and held it out to him. It was an old black and white photo, grainy and not the best quality even for the thirties, but in it showed a teenage Dottie and two very familiar boys; and on the back in neat cursive was written 'Happy Birthday Texas! –Dottie Evans'. Alfred smiled, wondering how she slipped that in there, before a screech from Texas broke his thoughts. At that moment Al knew that all the stress and anxiety he had gone through to get the figure was worth it. Texas looked almost as happy as he did the day of the moon landing, and the ferocious hug he was swept up in a second later confirmed it.

Best Birthmas Gift Ever!