Alfred knocked on the door to the Oval Office. Spring was now getting established, and the start of April had been a welcome change from the cold of winter. The sweet air had worked its way into every room of the White House, and curtains had all been thrown to the side to welcome the morning sunlight. Alfred took no notice of this, however. His mind was preoccupied with a heavy message.

A voice from inside called out. "Enter."

Alfred pushed the door open, eased himself in, and shut the door softly behind himself. He stood by the door until President Lincoln looked up from his desk. He was writing a letter, and when he noticed Alfred, he put his pen down with a smile. "Alfred," he said, "It's good to see you."

"You as well, Mr. President. I am afraid, however, that I have some bad news that needs your immediate attention."

Lincoln sighed and removed his glasses. "Alfred, you know how much I hate it when you walk into my office and say that to me." He paused before he looked up to meet Alfred's gaze. "But let's get it over with."

Alfred nodded and pulled a chair across the room so that he could sit directly across from the President.

"Sir, there's been talk that the Confederacy-that's what they call themselves-has a personification. Now this is just talk, I haven't confirmed it yet, but I think that you should be aware of this."

Lincoln sat up in his chair. "A personification? What do you know?"

"From what I've heard, he's young, driven, passionate. Typical for a new nation. Also, if I were to draw my own conclusions, unstable."

"Why would you say that?"

"Well sir, his people are in turmoil. They call for war, they're wishing harm on their own families. Who wouldn't be at least a little unstable with all of that in your head?"

Lincoln nodded. "I see. Anything else?"

Alfred shifted his weight in his chair. "Sir, can… Can I speak freely?"

"Of course, Alfred. What is it?"

Alfred leaned forward and rested his elbows on Lincoln's desk. "Sir, this personification… He calls himself Samuel Lee Jones. I've heard that he's claiming that he's my brother. There's also talk that he's violent, unpredictable. A womanizer as well." Alfred cleared his throat. "He's dangerous, sir. I don't like where this is going, and if he's as unstable as I think he may be, then I'm afraid that there's a slim possibility of negotiating a state of peace."

Lincoln raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair. "I see. So this man is the kind of a man that is not to be underestimated."

"That is correct sir."

"You don't like this man, do you Alfred?"

Alfred shook his head. "No sir, I do not."

Lincoln looked Alfred in the eyes. "Then you must get to know him."

"Sir?"

"You heard me. You must get the facts straight about this Samuel Lee Jones, and the only way to do that is to get to know him. Send him a letter, arrange a meeting, something. Just hear what he has to say, and you never know, but you may be able to get somewhere with this man."

Alfred sighed. "You really think that'll work?"

Lincoln smiled. "Yes Alfred, I do."

-x-x-x-

Samuel sat on the back porch of Marion's house, his back resting on a whitewashed column. The morning sunshine bathed his skin, and the warm breeze tousled his hair, which had grown long enough to cover the tops of his ears. The boyish freckles that had onced peppered his nose and cheeks had all but faded completely. The rough wood of the column dug into the skin of his bare back, and his calloused fingers played distractedly with the suspenders that hung from the waist of his pants. Bare toes brushed the growing blades of the new grass. With his eyes closed and a slight smile on his lips, Samuel was able to have a moment of much-needed solitude for the first time in a month. He took a deep breath, sucking the sweet air into his lungs, then blew it out softly out of sunburnt lips.

His men were attacking the Union garrison at Fort Sumter, and were faring magnificently.

War had finally come to his doorstep, and Samuel couldn't be happier. The North was about to finally see that he and his people meant business, and were not to be trifled with.

Everything was as it should be, and life was good. Yes, life was good indeed.

-x-x-x-

Alfred slammed the telegram on Lincoln's desk. "They've gone and done it!"

Lincoln looked up from the papers that he was reading and picked up the telegram. "Who's gone and done what?"

"The Confederacy. They've attacked Fort Sumter!"

Lincoln raised his eyebrows, read the telegram, and removed his glasses slowly. "Dear God in heaven…"

"If that's not a clear declaration of war, then I don't know what is."

Lincoln furrowed his brows in a frown. "This is a pretty clear message indeed."

Lincoln pushed his chair back and stood to his feet.

"What are you going to do, sir?"

"I am going to send supplies to Fort Sumter. If I send troops, I will be seen as the aggressor, and that is the very last thing that I need right now. If I send aid to our men down there, then that leaves the choice to the Confederacy. If they allow the aid to come, then that completely dismantles the legitimacy of their secession. If they fire on our supply ships, then that makes them the aggressors. Either way, we either dodge both the literal and proverbial bullets, or unite the states against the South."

-x-x-x-

"Samuel!"

Marion's voice jerked Samuel awake. He had fallen asleep against the column on the back porch, and he was less than happy about being disturbed. Maybe if I stay quiet, then she'll actually leave me alone for once.

"Samuel!"

Samuel yelled over his shoulder, "Oh for the love of God, what is it?"

Marion eased the screen door open slowly. "Samuel… One… One of the colts got out of the paddock and I think he headed out toward the southern fields, I need you to go find him."

Samuel groaned and got to his feet. "Fine, since there's absolutely no other person on this entire plantation that could possibly do it."

Marion stood stock-still in the doorway, staring at Samuel. He stood in front of her and looked down into her face. He had grown to be a good four inches taller than Marion, and she was starting to not like where this situation was going.

"You're in my way."

Marion couldn't move. There was something about the way that he spat out the words that made her skin crawl.

"I said," Samuel wrapped his fingers around Marion's arm as tight as a vice, and she grimaced. He yanked her to the side and out of his way, so that he pushed her hard into the doorframe. "Move." Samuel then strode past her and through the house, then through the front door and out of sight.

Marion sighed shakily and slid down against the doorframe. She covered her mouth with a hand and managed to choke back a flood of tears. She was sure that she would wake up with five finger-shaped bruises on her upper arm.

What's going on? What just happened?

-x-x-x-

Alfred gazed into the mirror in his bedroom as he ran a comb through his sandy hair. Tonight was sure to be a big night. After all, tonight was the night of the biggest party that the White House had seen in years. Every Union general and his family would be there to enjoy an evening of good food and fine wine after a strategy meeting that the President was holding. Despite the fact that it had been pulled together on such short notice, this party was sure to not disappoint.

A glance at his watch forced Alfred to put the comb down on his dresser and tie his tie as he descended the stairs of his wing of the White House. The party was clear across the grounds, in the ballroom that overlooked the gardens, but if he hurried, then he'd make it by four o'clock, which was when the meeting was due to start. Maybe then they'd come up with a plan to squash this Southern rebellion into nothingness once and for all.

-x-x-x-

Samuel stepped out of the cab about three blocks away from the White House. Marion had told him about the party (he didn't bother to ask how she found out), and so he decided to pay Alfred a little visit. He knew that it would be strictly regulated as to who would be allowed inside, but he figured he would be able to get himself in. He was a smart man, after all.

With a tug on the bottom of his suit's jacket, he started the short walk to the White House's doors. He knew exactly which back door he would go for, and once he was in, that was when the fun would begin.

It only took about five minutes before he saw the lights of the ball from the street. A quick glance confirmed the information that he had been given: Security was lacking, but especially in the eastern entrance. There was only one guard that he could see, but he was sure to be armed. This little detail wouldn't prove to be a problem.

It was nearly eight o'clock, and the lawn was covered with the blanket of night. The moon was hidden behind a veil of thick clouds. Not a single star's light could pierce the dark.

Samuel walked nonchalantly around the grounds, then entered around the back, easily slipping past a couple of guards that were less than watchful. His only resistance would come when he would try to enter the eastern door.

The guard was nearly the same size as Samuel, and Samuel caught him by surprise as he tried to climb the stairs.

"Sir, you're not supposed to be here! I'll have to ask you to leave!"

Samuel looked up and feigned shock. "I'm sorry, I just stepped out for some fresh air, my wife is waiting for me inside. She's quite impatient."

The guard put out a hand to stop Samuel when he tried to climb the steps again. "Sir, I'm only going to ask you to leave one more time. You're not supposed to be here."

Samuel put his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, relax. But have you got a light?" He fished a cigarette from the pocket of his jacket. "I'm dying for a smoke."

The guard paused in thought, then slowly pulled a matchbook from his pocket. With a wary eye on Samuel, who met his gaze unwaveringly, he struck the match against the wall. As he climbed the steps, the orange glow cast sharp shadows on Samuel's face. He stuck the cigarette between his teeth and leaned forward into the match. Samuel smiled, and in the dim light, his eyes were hauntingly cold.

Just before the guard could pull the match away, Samuel threw one swift and strong punch with the heel of his hand up into the guard's nose. He felt the nose snap, and the guard fell backward onto the ground. The guard moaned and clutched his face, which was already covered in shining crimson. Samuel stood over his body and took one long drag on the cigarette. He looked down on the body of the guard, blew a lungful of smoke down at him, and tossed the cigarette onto his chest.

"Thanks for the light, my friend."

With that, Samuel smoothed his hair with one hand and opened the door. Golden light streamed past him, and he slipped into the White House. He was sure to lock the door behind him.

A crowd of people was gathered before him, all either sitting at tables in an adjoining room, crowding around massive bowls of pink punch, or dancing on the dance floor in front of him.

Samuel scanned the room for Alfred, but he couldn't see him immediately. He knew he had to blend in divert any suspicions, and when he spotted a young redheaded girl that was standing alone in a nearby corner of the room, he knew exactly what he needed to do.

He was at her side a moment later. He wrapped his arm around her waist and spun her around so that she faced him. The girl gasped.

"Oh my," Samuel said, "Did I startle you?"

The girl looked up at Samuel and said nothing. She only swallowed and nodded.

"My dear, I apologize for that." He smiled, and extended a hand for the girl to take. "How about I make it up to you? Care for a dance?"

The girl nodded, and Samuel led her out onto the dance floor. She was like putty in his hands. All smiles, giggles, and squeals. When the song finished, he took her by the hand off the dance floor and to a chair. There, he kissed her hand and apologized for the fact that he had to leave, but he had some business to take care of. The girl grinned widely and said that it was completely understandable, and with that, Samuel disappeared into the crowd.

As he pushed his way through the sea of people, he looked for Alfred again, and for the second time, he came up empty. That's when he thought, If I was Alfred, I wouldn't stay in this party for long. I would probably find a balcony or go into the garden… Samuel spotted a door that led onto the outdoor balcony from the second floor. Samuel smiled. Perfect.

He climbed the marble steps quickly and slipped through the door, silently and unnoticed. Resting his hands on the railing was Alfred.

Samuel pulled a cigarette and match from his pocket, lit his cigarette, and watched Alfred's back as he smoked it silently. Alfred didn't move. Samuel was the one who broke the silence. His voice was sweet as honey, his Southern twang clear.

"Something on your mind?"

Alfred turned to face Samuel. "Yeah, a lot actually." He waved a hand at the party inside as Samuel walked slowly up to Alfred's side. "This whole situation with the secession of the Southern states… I just don't see how this can all happen so fast." Alfred turned and rested his hands on the railing again and sighed. "I wasn't thinking about it, and it all just… Happened."

Samuel took another drag on his cigarette. He then leaned over so that his lips brushed against Alfred's ear. Alfred froze, his breath caught in his throat. Smoke blew over Samuel's lips and into Alfred's ear.

"Are you thinking of me now?"

Samuel chuckled and slapped Alfred on the arm heartily, then drew back. Alfred couldn't move. There's no way… It can't be him…

Alfred whipped around to face Samuel. As he turned, the words spilled over his lips like water. "You son of a-!" He stopped mid-thought.

Samuel was gone. A still-smoking cigarette lying on the railing by Alfred's hand was the only evidence that anyone had been out on the balcony with him.

Alfred wasted no time. He strode through the door and into the ballroom. He searched the crowd, but he came up with nothing. A man can't just disappear… No, there he is!

Alfred spotted Samuel walking casually through the crowd downstairs, looking as if he belonged there. He watched Samuel slither through the bodies, but when he passed a young red-headed girl that was sitting on a sofa, he leaned over and gently kissed her on the cheek. He then whispered something in her ear that made her hide her face, but when she lowered her hands, she was blushing and grinning widely. Samuel bowed his head to her and left her, and he headed for one of the back doors. Just before he reached it, he turned and looked up to the second floor. His eyes locked onto Alfred's, and the most sickening of smiles was spread over his face. Without breaking his stare, he reached into his pocket and removed a pair of… Glasses? Alfred frowned, then patted his suit in an attempt to find his own glasses. He clenched his jaw at the realization: Samuel had stolen his glasses out of the inside pocket of his suit.

Alfred could see Samuel laugh as he pocketed Alfred's glasses, and could have sworn that he saw Samuel wink just before he slipped out the door.

Alfred was still for a moment, but he gathered his senses quickly enough. He pulled a guard to the side and whispered the situation in his ear. The guard nodded and left, and Alfred could hear the voices of other guards as they went to search for Samuel.

Somehow though, Alfred knew that they wouldn't find him.

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Title credit goes to Panic! At The Disco.

Love, Amanda and Harley