"It's got to work," America muttered to himself, from his perch on his bed.
"I certainly hope so," Crittenden looked over at him from where he sat at the Nation's desk, rereading his work. "But it's been rejected so many times, I—"
"It has to work," the blond insisted, tone bordering on manic, as he shifted. His legs were bothering him: buzzing, tingling, burning. It was a sensation beyond description. But he had to ignore it. It would only be temporary, temporary.
It had to be.
"Yes, Mr. America," Crittenden did his best to smile as he passed the false words, not believing them himself, no matter how much he hoped they could be true. "I just don't want you to get your hopes up. The proposal tonight…are you sure you'll be able to make it? If you can't, I can—"
"I'll be there," America assured, the bitter resolve behind his words sending a shiver down Crittenden's spine.
"All right. Until then, Mr. America." And he left, taking the documents with him.
America sat still, staring distractedly at the blank wall, blankets still tangled around his limbs. His legs.
It had to work. Vividly, his nightmare from Jackson's presidency came back to him. What if that had been a premonition? What if it were about to happen?
Fighting, dying...blood. Gray and blue, uniforms slipshod and ragged. His own people, fighting against each other, guns raised, bullets firing…
No. He wouldn't let it happen. He'd do whatever it took to make sure it didn't.
"I refuse to go along with any agreement that lets slavery continue its creeping pace," Lincoln responded, adamant.
America could feel the anger burning inside him, bubbling up. "Sir, please, just consider it. You have to put the best interest of our country first. The South might come back to us if we put this into effect."
"It's not a matter of slavery that caused all this," Lincoln persisted, fiercely calm. "It's states rights. The South has always had a different view. It had to come to an end eventually. On the territorial question…I am inflexible."
It boiled over. "You promised me nothing would happen!" America shouted, springing up from his chair. His need to lean heavily on the table in front of him for support did nothing to dampen his image of rage. "You promised nothing would happen, and now you go and do this? I can't believe you. If this is the type of president you're going to be, I don't want you!"
Crittenden swallowed, eyes glued to his seat, apprehensively watching the conflict escalate. In fact, all eyes were on the two, though more so on Lincoln, waiting for his reaction to the insult.
"America…I admit I made a grave error. And I am sorry. But the past can not be changed," he apologized, though his tone remained firm, convincing. "The South will not come back to us so easily."
"You're wrong!" America shouted, pounding his fist on the table. "We can still stop this. I know what's going to happen and I won't allow it. I won't let so many of my people die!"
A hushed stillness passed over the assembly, a multitude of breaths hushed as they awaited the nearly-president's response. Tense, pregnant silence.
"Calm yourself, America," Lincoln stood up, emphasizing his significant height. "This is not the time to discuss this. You are hardly well."
"Of course I'm not!" America's screamed. His arms were trembling, struggling to keep himself up. "How could I possibly be 'well' when I'm being torn apart?"
Lincoln wordlessly crossed the room, looping an arm through America's arm and behind him, leading him out of the room. "Excuse us, gentlemen," he said politely, in closure.
"Let me go!" America shouted, pushing against the man with all his strength. But his arms were still shaking. When the doors closed behind them, Lincoln released him, only to catch him again when he stumbled, lowering him to floor so that he could sit.
"I'm truly sorry, America," Lincoln apologized once more, but this time with obvious empathy. "But it had to come to this. There's no other way."
"I'm sick of hearing that same old thing, again and again," America shot back, bitter. "There's always another way. We could have talked to them, worked things out. We could have—"
"And how long do you think that would've kept things together for?" Lincoln countered, voice strong with unidentifiable emotion. "A year or two? Maybe a few score? But then everyone would have been at each other's throats again, all the more bitter for festering those years. It's not my fault. It's not anyone's fault. You've got to accept that it's happening and there's no way to change that."
Shocked, the young Nation stared back at him, wordlessly.
"I'll help you back to your room," Lincoln continued, offering a hand to help the other man up. America took it numbly, legs shaking as he held tight to his president. A pillar of support in a sea of chaos.
When they reached his room, Lincoln deposited America on his bed, before leaving, without a word. Immediately America's troubled mind turned back to the South, his dream, Lincoln's words. He didn't sleep a wink that night.
"If you are as happy in entering the White House as I shall feel on returning to Wheatland, you are a happy man," Buchanan shook Lincoln's hand firmly, a bitter smile on his face.
Lincoln returned the expression. "I will try and make the best of it, sir. I wish you good luck."
Buchanan turned to America then, pausing as he searched for the words. The young Nation had been understandably moody, hardly speaking more than a sentence at best. But he'd taken to coming to the office more, in the very least, instead of holing himself up in his room all day. If there was ever a time when silver linings were important, it was now.
"You have my best wishes, as well, America," Buchanan said solemnly, extending a hand to the blond. "I wish I could have done more. But I know you will make it out of this. You're strong."
America merely nodded, looking up at his former president, before returning the handshake. His grip was strong, far stronger than Buchanan had expected, given his state. It was assuring.
"Thank you, sir," he tried his best to offer a smile, though it faltered, quivering at the edges. "You, too."
Buchanan left then, leaving the two alone. Lincoln set his meager belongings down on the desk, gazing around the office pensively.
"I thought over what you said," America began, breaking the awkward silence. "And you're right. I'm sorry for the way I acted."
"I don't blame you," Lincoln responded, running a hand over the wood of the desk. "But I'm glad you've seen sense. I fear this won't be the end, however. This is only the beginning."
"I know," America responded, gazing down at his hands. Strong, capable…such a contrast to his near useless legs. "I know that all too well."
Historical Notes: In 1860 John Crittenden posed a constitutional amendment (the Crittenden Compromise), as a last resort. In it slavery would be "recognized as existing" in all territories south of the latitude 36° 30', and no future amendment would be able to tamper with the institution of slavery. His oldest son was about to become a southern general, another son a northern general, giving a special urgency to his request. However, Lincoln refused to consider any arrangement that would open new territory to slavery, rejecting it immediately in 1861.
Beginning in late December, Buchanan reorganized his cabinet, ousting Confederate sympathizers and replacing them with hard-line nationalists. These conservative Democrats strongly believed in American nationalism and refused to stand for secession. The new cabinet advised Buchanan to request emergency military power from Congress, but by that time Buchanan's relations with Congress were so strained and confidence in his leadership so low that his requests were rejected out of hand.
On Buchanan's final day as president, March 4, 1861, he remarked to the incoming Lincoln, "If you are as happy in entering the White House as I shall feel on returning to Wheatland, you are a happy man."
Slavery contributed to the secession, but the main issue was states rights. The Southerners felt they should be able to secede as the majority of them wanted to do so, while the Northerners insisted seceding because of an election's results proved democracy's instability.
Sorry for the lateness. I just discovered this wonderful show called Merlin…and it's consuming my life ' I'm trying to keep it under wraps, though.
another fma fan: History can be viewed in a multitude of different ways. I used to be such a sadist with my favorite characters. I've since then grown out of that…though it might have helped me with this I feel so bad for America.
England was a big part of America's "childhood" so I feel it's important he slip in here every now and again :]
Very glad you're enjoying it ^^ This chapter should have addressed the rest of your review. Thank you for the review~!