It was an odd sort of chaos that was let loose on the streets. I was used to ruined buildings, bomb fragments and terrified people, trying to find their families or trying to save their own skin. Here, on the streets of Washington D.C., people just seemed lost.
It almost reminded me of a scene from a horror movie; everyone was aimlessly walking, bumping into each other, but not reacting to it, eyes searching for something. I don't think they knew themselves what they were looking for. The loss of a nation, I reminded myself, took as much of a toll on people as it did on us… On nations…
It's easy to forget that I'm no longer one.
I pushed open the door to the police department, earning a few looks from the few officers still there. Utopia's new order had not yet been instilled and even the inside of the building had a weird doubtful vibe to it with most desks cleared, but some having immense piles of paperwork. Some were simply used for storage of coffee cups. Had it been tea, I would have taken the advice of the nearby sign and helped myself to one.
A few steps in I was greeted by a man in an expensive black suit who reached out his hand, which I shook. He had a strong grip. "Mr England, I represent Homeland Security and I'm very grateful that you could make it. This matter is a very delicate one, and I'm not sure how to handle it."
"It's just Arthur Kirkland now." I corrected him automatically, catching a slight waver to my voice. Someone still remembered me for what I was? "It was no problem, I was very well aware that this would turn into a hard to handle and delicate matter, thus I flew over as soon as I saw. May I go see him?"
"Of course. He's in interrogation, follow me." He turned and took a course towards the back of the precinct with me shortly falling in step with him. "I was hoping that the three of us and the utopian representative could talk through the possible solutions to our problem. So far we haven't managed to get a word out of him, especially with how much aggression there is between him and the utopian."
"Certainly, that would be the wisest course of action. I simply hope he hasn't yet dug himself into a hole too deep to be helped out of. He has a talent for that, after all," I replied, catching a smile on the face of the American accompanying me. A friend of Alfred's, I presumed, or at least someone important enough to know him.
He held the door for me and I took a hesitant step into the brightly lit interrogation room. Behind a steel table bolted to the floor sat Alfred, eyes fixed on his lap and his hands hidden under the desk. He didn't seem to notice my entrance, and I turned to the agent. "Can I have a moment alone with him?"
"Yes, of course. I'll be outside, simply speak to me when you finish," he replied, shutting the door as he left. Complete silence settled over the room, but even so I knew I had to choose my words wisely. The mirror that so innocently showed my reflection was surely being used to spy on us.
"Come to gloat?" He was avoiding my gaze, staring down the table instead.
"Why would I? I'm in no different situation than you are. Neither of us is a nation anymore." I pulled out a chair and sat next to him. "I came to make sure you don't pull yourself and what remains of us further down into the shitter."
"Nothing remains of us , Arthur," he replied, turning to look at me. "You've been a human for a fucking long while now, haven't you? Nobody ever talks about England anymore. You're forgotten. So why the hell are you really here if there's nothing of your pride left to save?" His reproachful look made me shut my eyes to compose myself. I took a deep breath, massaging my forehead which had now started developing an annoying pain.
"I'm not here to save my pride, you stupid boy, I'm here to save yours. Make this painless for both of us and just do as I say-"
"I didn't ask-"
Uncontrolled, I let my fist slam against the metal table. "For ONCE in your life, you stupid boy, DO AS I TELL YOU!" I tensed my hand on the table, before relaxing my fingers and letting it drop onto my lap. "...Please." A whisper, tired and barely audible.
A silence passed between us as I raised my gaze to study the impact of my words. Though it seemed as there was none; his impassive expression stared me down still, making me wonder if my words had any effect at all. That was, until he finally sighed and sat up straight, directing his gaze to the wall opposite to him.
"Fine," he said, "just tell them to get it over with quickly."
"Good God, you git…" I mumbled only, standing to fetch the Homeland Security representative. After a few minutes of silent waiting, the three of us sat on the opposite side of the table from an Utopian garbed in white, a stack of papers in front of him to add that air of business about him. It served to remind me that my disheveled hair and tired look did nothing to make me look presentable, but I couldn't let it bother me. There still had to be some sort of power that I held and that could help Alfred.
"We've been over this once, but I will state this again for Mr. Kirkland. Alfred F Jones has, in cold blood, murdered a Utopian ambassador to the former United States of America and injured several other lower and higher ranking officers from the Utopian military when resisting arrest. As I'm sure you're well aware, Mr. Kirkland, murder is not tolerated in a utopia, and the punishment for taking a life is, as is fair, death," as he spoke, he extracted a paper from the pile and pushed in front of me a copy of the Utopian law, as if I would doubt his words.
My fingers closed around the thin sheet, applying too much pressure in hopes of stopping their trembling. I should have expected as much, but to hear that said out loud… I turned to gaze at the youthful face next to me, unmoved by the news of his death sentence, though I could see the dark circles under his eyes and how his laugh lines were far more prominent than they had ever been; all signs that he was no longer immortal and invulnerable, like he perhaps believed.
"That was," I said, turning to look at the Utopian, "a deed of a desperate nation. A deed that the United States of America should be accountable for, however… This boy that sits before you is no longer that. He is Alfred Franklin Jones, and by killing him, you will be killing an innocent person. It has always been important that the nation and the person be kept separate, for otherwise everyone, Ludwig, Ivan, Alfred, I… we should all be tried for the murder of millions, and people will start asking you: "Why him and not the others? Were the people who lived before Utopia not people in your eyes?". And then your hands will reach for my throat, and perhaps if that does happen, I will stare you down and tell you; England might have died, but not with its people."
The smug smirk on the Utopian's face faltered, and one extra pair of eyes turned to stare at me.
"You see it, don't you? It might be in the suburbs, but the English are growing restless. They fly the Union Flag when no-one is watching, they hum the anthem when you aren't listening. You know that they cling to me like to a scrap of hope, and what do people do when their hope is killed off?"
"Mr. Kirkland, that almost sounds like a threat."
The corners of my mouth drew up arrogantly, and my calmed fingers folded the piece of paper and slid it across the desk once more. "Almost? I must not be trying hard enough."
With a fell swoop of a hand, the papers were dragged into a professional-looking briefcase and the Utopian stood, his small eyes cold upon my face. "Very well. However next time one of you freaks pulls anything like that, we won't be swayed from handing out justice."
The door closed behind him and I slumped slightly forward, taking a long overdue breath. What the hell was I thinking, saying all that to his face? Had any of my colonies dared say that to my face, I would have taken it as a sign of treason, an invitation to war.
"If I may say, Mr. Kirkland, that was kinda stupid of you. But thank you for what you did, I would have never expected someone to do something like that for Alfred," the man from Homeland Security said, before setting a key to Alfred's handcuffs on the table. "Take care of yourself, and him."
With him gone, it was only Alfred and me in the room and silence set upon us again. I couldn't blame him, I thought as I undid his handcuffs, just a few years ago he had been perhaps the most powerful nation, and now… Now, I assumed, he was tired.
"Alfred, I'll take you home. You're in no state to drive," I said, slipping my hands around his and standing. He remained seated, though, and I only felt his fingers squeeze my hands.
"Thank you, Arthur, it was… I appreciate what you did," he said, silently, with his ego taken down a few notches, I assumed. Any other time, I would have made fun of him, however… well, Alfred seemed to foreign with his silent voice and tired gaze that I couldn't help but to wish he would leap up and make a loud announcement about being a hero. Come to think of it, over the few years I hadn't seen him, I really… even missed that.
Requiring no aid from me, but still gripping my hands tightly, Alfred stood, and it took me a moment to realize that he was not planning on letting go. I allowed myself a smile; it was, frankly, adorable. So with him clinging to me (even though his face remained comically stoic), we started our little walk towards the outside.
"It seems like England is still kicking in it's own way, huh…" he said, as we walked, subject to many intrigued gaze.
"Oh you know how it goes. There will always be an England, and that England will be free…"
A slight pause, before, to my surprise, Alfred continued; "If England means as much to you, as England means to me."