I promise you guys one thing: this sucks.
Warnings: suckish sucking stuff.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
"Is he awake?"
Confederate heard the voices outside his door, but he refused to move from his spot to answer for himself. He clutched at the white bedsheets instead, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for sleep to come, sleep that had escaped him for many days.
He couldn't sleep when he was hurting this much.
"No, he's still asleep," came Davis' voice, and Confederate had to hold back a laugh.
Still asleep. Right.
"So despite not being in the actual battles, he can still feel the pain of them," the first voice mused, and finally Confederate recognized it to belong to Alexander Stephens, who was serving as the vice-president of the Confederacy. He hadn't met with the man often, but he had heard plenty of stories from Davis. The two of them didn't get along so well.
Confederate would have smiled at their silly strife if his entire body didn't ache so much.
"I suppose so," Davis responded. "I'm not sure the extent of his injuries, but to hole him up for four days? It must really be hurting him."
"Well, I noticed he had been rather upset about England's refusal to help us." Confederate heard Stephens walking around. "That also might have something to do with it."
Oh, did it ever. Confederate winced when Stephens mention England. They had been so close to gaining a considerable amount of military assistance. They had been so close in being able to win, for with England on their side, there was no possible way they would have lost. And then everything fell apart. Confederate's hopes and dreams fell apart, shattered by the cruel dose of reality.
He had never felt so alone.
"He'll be better soon," Davis said. "He's a strong, young lad, and I have the utmost faith in him."
"That makes one of us," Stephens muttered, and Confederate's eyes flew open in surprise. Since when did Stephens not have faith in him? The guy was serious and grumpy, sure, but he was also vice president. There had to be some inkling of faith and respect there.
Davis, too, seemed shocked. "What ever do you mean, Stephens?"
"I mean just that. Look here; as a human, Confederate is very strong and very brave, and I have faith in him. In the human. In the country, though, he's weak. Not on account of our army. Heavens no, I've never seen a stronger army than the one we have right now. No, he's weak because his president can't make the strategic choices he needs to become strong."
It was silent for a few minutes, and Confederate resisted the urge to run out and pummel Stephens. How dare he? How dare he try and lay the blame on Davis' shoulders? President Davis had been nothing but kind since Confederate knew him, and to say otherwise was just plain ridiculous.
Rather than being able to come to his president's rescue, though, Davis seemed to make his own rescue. "I understand you don't appreciate the way I do things around here," he calmly said. "However, that has nothing to do with the Confederacy's success. The wartime measures that-"
"Oh, wartime measures," Stephens grumbled. "Lincoln is enacting wartime measures in his own country, and do you know how much Confederate disagrees with that? What makes you think he appreciates how you're doing the exact same thing?"
"It's of a lesser extent-" Davis started, and even Confederate could tell just how weak it all sounded.
"Please don't give me that." Stephens sighed. "Never mind. We shouldn't even be arguing at the moment. Just make sure Confederate wakes sooner than later, especially since we're sending the Virginia out soon. I do think he'll wake up when he is aware of that."
Confederate listened to the footsteps head down the hallway before closing his eyes again and pulling the sheets up on his face, frowning into his pillow.
He didn't know what he'd appreciate anymore.
He didn't know what he wanted anymore.
It was another two days before Confederate was able to get up from bed. Well, less of able, and more of motivated. England's refusal to help had wounded his pride and caused great fear to gather, and with the loss of both Fort Henry and Fort Donelson, Confederate had also been in pain. He had expected to lose a few battles, sure, but not so soon, and not to so great of an extent. Or, was it great? He wasn't sure of the norms of battles, and no one would tell him.
They said it was because they didn't know, because this war was different, but Confederate had the sinking suspicion that they were still babying him. Davis, especially. Davis was acting as if he couldn't handle anything. Davis was keeping all bad news from him, and from the rest of the people. Whenever someone dared to blast his name, Davis was always there to rescue him.
The thing was, though, that Confederate didn't need rescuing. He wanted to listen to his citizens, to every single one of them, to know what they wanted him to do. Davis, on the other hand, wanted him to get past the war before bringing in any of the Confederate's flaws.
"Wartime measures," the president said when confronted about it. "I need to make sure that the people are in good morale during this time. Negative words might bring you down."
Confederate understood his point, but it still didn't make him feel any better. "With all due respect, sir, these are more of my people than they are yours. I'd like for them to be able to speak their mind. And if that means they spout negativity, then let them spout it. They deserve to have freedom of speech, though. Isn't that what we're about? Freedom?"
They were walking along the docks, Confederate with a very slight limp. The recent battles hadn't put so much of a toll on him; only his left leg suffered small wounds of some sort, and that was more of an ache than anything else. The major reason he had been bedridden for a lengthier time than needed wasn't any physical wound that would heal over time and good measure.
Psychologically, everything was taking a toll on him. The thoughts played in his mind, the thoughts of, what if we might lose, what if I die off, what if, what if, what if? England had sent everything over the edge, had finally made him truly doubt his recent confidence.
He had never doubted before. That scared him.
Sidestepping some of the more local fishermen, Davis glanced over at Confederacy, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I suppose," he mumbled. "Though we must take into account our strength. Your strength, to be exact."
Remembering earlier what the vice-president had said, Confederate frowned. "If you don't believe I'm strong enough to handle what other people might have to say-"
"No, nothing of the sort!" Davis assured. "I simply meant that the Union outnumbers us by a considerable amount, both in men and in resources. As much as we'd both like to believe otherwise, we're not exactly in a position to fight off the superior forces of Lincoln and his army."
"If we have good morale, we are."
Davis raised an eyebrow. "Exactly."
Realizing his point, Confederate sighed, running his fingers through his hair and shaking his head. "No, no, that's not 'exactly', Mr. President, sir. It really isn't. I...I'm not so sure...I mean, I don't think..." He groaned.
With a comforting smile, Davis patted Confederate's back. "Why don't we take our minds off of this whole matter for a few minutes?" he asked. "I have something far more important to show you."
They turned a few corners, and within minutes, Confederate had his gaze set upon something huge, something he hadn't seen fully completed before.
"Is this...?"
"The CSS Virginia," Davis responded, a large smile coming across his face. "I...I figured you'd wish to see her complete before she went out in naval battles." He paused, then added, "Mostly complete. She still needs some work done."
Confederate also wanted to see those naval battles, but since it was clearly obvious he wasn't going to be riding in a boat anytime soon, he supposed he could make due with what he had given to him.
"Good Lord," he whispered.
"Well, I do believe it's by the grace of the Lord that this was finished."
Confederate shot Davis a grin, forgetting their past argument. "It sure does look that way, does it not? I just...I can't believe she's nearly finished."
He had heard about the construction of the CSS Virginia earlier on. Davis explained it all to him and, at the time, America was certain he wanted to ride in it. Now, though, he was quite content with staring at it from afar, marveling in its power, in awe of its obvious strength.
Davis rested a hand upon the nation's shoulder, awkwardly moving to stand closer beside him. "The Union, we've heard, have finished their ironclad before we did," he stated. "We started first, as you very well know, but, as I've mentioned before, they overpower us in resources. We've been trying to keep up with both weaponry, food, clothes, and whatever else we need to properly govern ourselves separately."
Confederate knew all of that, and despite the fact he wished they had more men and more materials, he figured what they had right then was going to be good enough. They finished the warship, and that was all that mattered.
"Well, once she goes up against the Union, they're going to have quite a difficult time fighting back," he said, confident in the ship's ability to induce destruction. "I don't care if their ironclad is larger or better; we have something the Union will never have."
Turning his gaze from the ship, Davis raised an eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, is that?"
"Southerners." Confederate beamed brightly, then gestured at the men running about all around them. "Southern men, Southern women; Southerners. We've had a long history of strength, and we always have the ability to do whatever we put our minds to. Being the embodiment of the South is a blessing, for I can feel just how much resolve each and every citizen down here has. They refuse to give up, refuse to surrender, refuse to comply to Lincoln's rule." His eyes shone brightly as he gazed out upon the people, the normal humans that were just caught up in this awful war, and he felt a burst of pride run through his veins.
"President Davis?" he continued. "I...I could never ask for a better country to run."
Davis looked over at him, smiling just slightly. "I couldn't, either," he responded in a murmur. "You've done well, Confederate. You really have."
Losing his seriousness, Confederate laughed, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, shucks, sir, I think you've done a pretty fine job, too! Granted, I do believe there to be room for improvement, but it hasn't been too shabby of a time."
"You're speaking nonsense, lad. Don't refer to this country as if it's about to be taken over by the Union."
"Didn't mean it to sound that way, sir. I do apologize." He straightened up and turned away, Davis following close behind. "But, personally, I do have one request, one thing I believe can help the people."
"Name it."
Confederate took a deep breath, then said, "I request to be given the permission to follow General Lee in his campaign." When the young nation looked back and noticed the conflicted expression of his president, he added, "Just for a few weeks. I promise I'll keep myself safe. I just wish to repay the Union for capturing my forts, and for waging this senseless war on me in the first place."
It took a few minutes for Davis to respond, and when he did, Confederate sighed in relief. "I don't see why you'd need my position. You're a free country, Confederate; you can do as you will. Just make sure General Lee knows you'll be with him, else he won't be able to keep an eye on you."
Any other day, Confederate would have complained about being watched over. As it was, though, he didn't feel like arguing with Davis, so, instead, he nodded his head. "Yes, sir."
Asking was the easy part. Planning was the easy part.
But he was certain he could handle the challenges to come.
wow did you see that. did you see that awful ending. i sure as hell did.
Granted, the entire thing was pretty awful, but...eh. Think of it as a sucky intermission before we get to the Seven Days Battles. Those should be better, I promise.
The history notes won't be long this time, since I don't really feel like going in depth.
Fort Henrywas taken from the Confederacy by the Union on February 6th, 1862. This was one of Grant's first victories, and a rather important one, at that. Fort Donelson was taken by Grant ten days later, after a very long battle. Despite the fact that the Union lost more men, the Confederacy was forced to surrender, so because of the amount of men who became prisoners and/or went missing, the Confederate toll was greater.
The Ironclads were these fantastic ships. Like, big and armored and stuff. I believe the first one was actually made by the French, but the American Civil War kinda popularized them. The Union completed their ironclad first, despite starting it later, and it was named the USS Monitor. The Confederate's ship was from an old commercial ship, and it was named the CSS Virginia (also commonly known as the CSS Merrimack). These weren't the only ironclad ships in the Civil War, nor were they the first, but they were the first to go into battle. Afterwards, the Union made about fifty more, and the Confederate tried to make more, but European nations kept confiscating them. Especially Russia. I'm pretty certain Russia was the only open ally of the Union (might have to do some more research on that).
Anyway, I do hope you made it past the suck, and if you did, leave a review to tell me you're still alive. I do assure you that the next chapter will be better. 8D
Also, thank you to all my reviewers thus far! You guys rock!