The air between America and his president was still, but not awkward. They had been careful around each other since that last incident, the shared dream hanging over them like a dark cloud. As hard as they tried to ignore and forget about it, it remained. Ever present, and menacing. But matters went on.

It was in this setting that Lincoln drew himself up suddenly, laying down his quill, and shoving away from his desk.

America looked up from the book he was glancing through, curious.

"Tell me, what is your opinion on this readmission?" Lincoln questioned, his voice steady and calm. "You've been recuperating, so I've hesitated to include you in all of this disagreement…but I value your opinion."

"Well…" the blond blinked a few times, humming to himself as he gathered his thoughts. "I'm just glad to have the Southern states back. I guess I agree with your plan. It seems pretty effective, and reasonable. They weren't the enemy, so they shouldn't be treated like one."

Lincoln nodded appraisingly, seemingly reassured. But something else seemed to be on his mind. The nightmare, America guessed, as it was pecking at the back of his mind, as well. Every time he looked at Lincoln he could see the lifeless form before him in the casket.

"I want you to promise me," Lincoln met his gaze then, grey fixing on blue. "That no matter what happens, you won't let this country fall apart again. I've seen you put through it, and I don't want you or any of my successors to have to deal with it again. I can not describe how unbearable it was, to see you in such pain, and unable to do anything about it.

"I'm not sure when I began to think of you as a son. Not in place of those I've lost, but in addition to." His president's voice was rough with emotion, what looked like tears shining ever so slightly in the corners of his eyes. "Two of my sons dead, another suffering beyond my control. I can not tell you how often I just wanted to wallow in my sorrows and forget the world. But that would've done no good, for myself or for anyone else."

America was quiet for awhile, trying to figure out a proper response. "That means a lot," he replied at length, a smile on his face. "But it's over now. And with any luck, it will never happen again. At the very least, you will never again have to go through that. You performed to the best of your abilities and beyond. I'll never forget you."

Lincoln returned the smile, not trusting himself to speak, as he brushed something from his eyes. America couldn't shake the feeling that their discussion had turned into some sort of goodbye.

"I regret to inform you, sir, but my wife and I will be unable to attend the play this evening," Grant related to Lincoln once their meeting had adjourned.

"No matter," Lincoln waved it off politely with a smile. "You deserve all the rest in the world for your service during our civil war."

Grant returned the expression with a laugh, shaking his head. "I could say the same to you, Mr. President. I hope you enjoy the performance." And with that he left along with the others, leaving Lincoln alone once again with his Nation.

"Maybe you shouldn't go either," America suggested, biting his lip. "Something just…doesn't feel right."

"Something hasn't felt right for quite awhile now," Lincoln sighed. "Ever since that damned dream. But don't worry. I'm sure it's nothing. And it will be a good distraction to get my mind off things."

"Just a feeling," America repeated, though he couldn't shake the sense that it was more than that it was more than that. But he was probably just being paranoid. Of course.

"I really don't think you should go," America advised again several hours later. He had expected the feeling of apprehension to dissipate with time, dismissing it as paranoia again and again. But no matter how much he tried to ignore it, it merely grew stronger.

His hesitance had been further increased when Mary had expressed her reluctance to go, weary from the carriage ride and dinner. Or at least that had been the excuse she had given. He knew there was more to it, knew that she was feeling the same uneasiness that he was, even if she didn't show it outright.

But Lincoln had shaken it off, claiming he needed a laugh, and would go with or without her. And, halfheartedly, she had agreed.

"I assure you, America," Lincoln pressed a hand to his Nation's shoulder, trying his best to be convincing, "that nothing is going to happen. It will be a good play, at best. A boring one at worst."

"I'm going with you, then," America declared, determination clear in the set of his jaw.

"Nonsense," Lincoln shook his head, locking eyes with the blond. "You need your rest. It's hardly been a few weeks since the war's end. You need to recover properly. Besides, Mary and I won't be going alone. Major Henry Rathbone and his fiancée, Clara Harris, will be joining us."

"I'll hardly be able to sleep, with this…feeling that you're somehow in danger," America frowned, his tone taking on an almost pleading tone. "Lincoln, please don't go. This doesn't feel right. Not at all."

Lincoln paused for a long time, obviously deep in thought. "I'm going," he announced finally, with his trademark calmness. "But you can come with us if you so wish."

America nodded, still not totally at ease.

The play was interesting. America nearly got into it, thinking himself a fool for being so anxious about this imaginary "danger". He had just been imagining things, worried about Lincoln after that strange dream. Perhaps it really had been nothing.

Lincoln and Mary were holding hands, inching closer as they were drawn into the play. America was so glad to see them at ease. The poor couple had been through too much. They deserved a break.

And that was when it happened. A man entered the box, a gun in his hand, anger on his face. America saw him enter, heard the click of the gun readying, and leapt to his feet, running to place himself in front of the president as soon as his mind began to register what was going on…

Bang!

No…

America could see the blood, dark against Lincoln's skin. A hole…

Mary was shrieking, clutching at Lincoln as he slumped over, limp. America stood frozen, rooted to the spot. His heart was too loud, the only thing he could hear apart from Mrs. Lincoln's screams.

"Sic semper tyrannis!" the man shouted, brandishing a dagger. He slashed at Rathbone's arm, right to the bone, before leaping from the box and fleeing across the stage.

No…

America stumbled forward, his legs nearly giving out on him, feeling again as weak as they had during the war.

No…No no no!

That was the only word that came to his mind, numb with shock and horror. There were shouts everywhere, chaos breaking in a tsunami. When he tripped over his own foot, crashing down hard onto the floor of the box, he felt the emotion well to the surface, bubbles erupting from a boiling water.

America screamed.

Historical Notes: The legal questions of bringing the defeated Confederacy back into the Union were very complex. Since Southerners believed that secession was legal, they should have also believed that as they were out of the Union, they would have to be formally readmitted. Northerners should have taken the opposite stand, because they had fought to prove secession was illegal, and so the Southern states had never really left. Yet, the people of both sections did the opposite. Senator Charles Sumner and Congressman Thaddeus Stevens insisted that the Confederate states had "committed suicide" and should be treated like "conquered provinces." Lincoln believed the issue an unnerving and potentially dangerous concept, and tried to ignore it.

The process of readmission began in 1862, when Lincoln reappointed provisional governors for the parts of the South occupied by federal troops. On December 8, 1863, he issued a proclamation setting forth a general policy, in what became known as the "Ten percent Plan". With the exception of high Confederate officials and a few other special groups, all Southerners could reinstate themselves as United States citizens by simply taking a loyalty oath. When, in any state, a number equal to 10 percent of those voting in the 1860 selection had taken this pledge, they could set up a state government. This government must be republican, recognize "permanent freedom" of the slaves, and provide education for blacks. The plan, however, did not require that blacks be given the right to vote.

Lincoln realized that any government based on such a small minority of the population would be a "tangible nucleus which the remainder…may rally around as fast as it can," a sort of "puppet regime". The administrations established under this plan in Tennessee, Louisiana, and Arkansas were like eggs, as the fully reconstructed states were to a chicken. "We shall sooner have the fowl by hatching it than by smashing it," he remarked. Lincoln knew that, eventually, representatives of the southern states would return to Congress, and he wanted to lay the groundwork for a strong Republican party in the South. Yet he also understood that Congress had no intention of immediately seating representatives form the "10 percent" states.

The Radicals in Congress disliked the 10 percent plan, partly because of its moderation and partly because it allowed Lincoln to determine Union policy towards the recaptured Confederacy. In July 1864, they passed the Wade-Davis bill, which provided for constitutional conventions only after a majority of the others in a southern state had taken a loyalty oath. Confederate officials and anyone who has "voluntarily borne arms against the United States" were barred from voting in the election or serving at the convention. Besides prohibiting slavery, the new state constitutions would have to repudiate Confederate debts. Lincoln got rid of the Wade-Davis bill with a pocket veto, and there matters stood until Andrew Johnson succeeded him.

On April 14th, Lincoln held a Cabinet meeting at which postwar readjustment was discussed. That evening, while Lincoln was watching a performance of the play Our American Cousin at Ford's Theater, a half-mad actor, John Wilkes Booth, slipped into his box and shot him in the back of the head with a small pistol. Early the next morning, without having regained consciousness, Lincoln died. The murder was part of a complicated plot organized by die-hard pro-Southerners. "Seldom have fanatics displayed so little understanding of their own interests, for with Lincoln perished the South's best hope for a mild peace." After his body had been taken home to Illinois, the national mood hardened.

Apparently Lincoln had grey eyes. I just found this now, and I'm wishing I had earlier. Oh, the symbolism…

This is where I got my details on the death scene from: http://www(dot)eyewitnesstohistory(dot) com/ lincoln(dot)htm

Lincoln ;_;

And the link of the tidbit on the man who had the civil war start and end in his home, again from the wonderful akuma-river. Interesting website…spent quite some time on it.

http://www(dot)cracked(dot) com/article_18421_6-insane-coincidences-you-wont-believe-actually-happened_ p1(dot) html

And this thing on the similarities between Kennedy's assassination and Lincoln's that I thought was eerie and neat. I distract you from the sadness with fun links…

http://www(dot)meilach(dot) com/ samscorner/ president(dot)htm

just another fma fan: Awful luck indeed. Italian is pretty fun. Just easy as pie. For the time being, at any rate. Thank you for the review ^^