Author's Note-Hey everyone. As you can tell, I haven't been posting as often as normal the last few weeks. This is because school has taken over both Pruhana (this stories wonderful beta) and my life. Hopefully as the semester continues things go smoother in future weeks, but if they don't you at least know why. Also before we go on to the post I want to give a quick thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Thank you Mofalle, America 96, Hurricaneclaw, and Bookwormally. You all rock!
Disclaimer- No states were harmed in the making of this story…and I don't own Hetalia…
Chapter 12- As the World Crumbles
America awoke slowly. At first he couldn't figure out why his neck hurt, and then he realized that he had fallen asleep on the coffee table. He had drooled all over the stack of paperwork, and would have to redo a half dozen forms he had just ruined. Then America realized the reason he had woken up in the first place: noise coming from the kitchen. Stretching, he tried to work out the kinks in his shoulders as he walked to the neighboring room. He paused at the door, not sure what to make of the scene inside.
"What happened?" America blurted out, staring the puddle of water and broken glass that Alaska was half lying in.
"What do you think happened?" Alaska countered sarcastically. She then tried to sit up but stopped a hiss of pain on her lips.
"What hurts?" America asked concerned that if he tried to help her up he would end up damaging her further, but when Alaska glared at him he decided to amend his question. "What hurts from the fall?"
"Nothing new, just bruises…" Alaska admitted hanging her head, "besides my damaged ego of course."
"Okay, well let's get you cleaned up."
"I don't need to be baby sat." Alaska spat, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
"I beg to differ. You unable to even get yourself a glass of water without further injuring yourself." America grabbed a towel from the kitchen table and moved to wipe water from Alaska's face. She attempted to move away from him, which made America sigh in exasperation. "You do know that it is okay to ask for help every once in a while." Alaska tried to move away from him again, and America dropped the towel on the floor and sat down to heavily next to her. "Listen, I am tired. All I really want to do crawl into bed, but I can't do that until you are safely in bed. I know that we don't always see eye to eye, but I will be out of your hair for most of tomorrow…"
"So you are going to leave me on my own?" Alaska said, her anticipation showing clearly in her voice.
"What do you expect? It takes a lot to be a superpower. I don't have time to deal with the wims of the states." America shrugged. "But enough talking I have a meeting with the president tomorrow morning and so I think both of us should hit the hay."
For once Alaska didn't struggle when he lifted her up and carried her to the guest bed.
Over the next week Massachusetts and the Yukon Territory settled into a comfortable rhythm. Each morning Massachusetts would awake up on the hide-a-way bed in Alaska's office to the smell of hot coffee table by his head. He would dress and go looking for Yukon. He would always find him making breakfast in the kitchen. When Massachusetts had asked the territory about his morning routine, Yukon had chuckled; apparently the only way to get Alaska out of bed some mornings was to have a fresh cup of coffee waiting for her.
Most mornings there were at least one or two other nation personifications in the house. Normally it was a state, Pennsylvania stayed the night on their journey to Seward and Hawaii stopped by whenever his plane docked in Anchorage. Occasionally, Newfoundland would crash on the couch in the living room. The Canadian Province was clearly doing something helpful, but due to Newfoundland's distinct accent Massachusetts couldn't understand a word that the province said and he so he still didn't have a clue what the province was doing here.
Regardless of who had stayed the night they were all fed a hardy breakfast before they headed off for their individual tasks. Massachusetts spent the majority of his time monitoring the population for signs of epidemic diseases that usually came in the aftermath of disasters. So far there had been a fair amount of colds and a few cases of the flu, but none were severe enough to write home about. As far as he could tell, Alaskans had either superefficient immune systems or were very proactive in protecting community health.
When he asked Yukon over eggs about it the territory simply laughed, and indicated it was probably the latter. Unfortunately, that didn't change the fact that Massachusetts still didn't have much to report in his daily teletype to America. He sat down at the desk and started to write anyway.
To: Alfred Jones
From: Adam Jones
The situation here is going good. Community health appears to be good. There has been a few cause of exhaustion and the flu, but none of epidemic diseases or malnutrition that were expected. The medical needs of the community caused by this disaster have been met and it is arguable that there is a surplus of medical personnel present in Alaska. If you have any present questions about the conditions on the ground or concerns about government interventions in Alaska contact me and I will do my best to reply promptly.
With that, Massachusetts sat back in his chair scanning the page for errors. Satisfied that all the relevant data was provided, he tucked it into an envelope and headed out the door. As he walked along the repaired streets of Anchorage to the communication center at the U.S. Air Force base, Massachusetts wondered what it would take to get a car for the various personifications to use. After all, Anchorage was already a semi-functional city and it seemed somewhat silly to have to walk everywhere in it.
Four weeks. It was kind of hard to imagine that it had only been just over a month since the Good Friday Earthquake had forever changed life in Alaska. The state was still shaking from thousands of the whole world had been quivering in sympathy, ringing like a bell. There had been fourteen major aftershocks; and since he had brought her home. All fourteen quakes were large enough that it would have leveled cities anywhere else in the US, but in Alaska, all buildings that had any structural weakness had already crumbled. The state only seemed to dwell on them for a day or two. It often seemed that America paid more attention to them than personification of the state did.
Thankfully, today there had been no major aftershocks, which allowed America to pick slowly away at the backlog of paperwork that covered nearly every inch of his large oak desk at the State Department. After eight hours of working of filling out forms and reading secret reports, the pile of papers didn't seem like it had shrunk. It almost seemed like the pile had continued to grow. Sighing, America clocked out at 7:15 p.m. and started the thirty minute drive home, only stopping to pick up several containers of Chinese takeout for dinner.
Arriving home, America unlocked the door and kicked off his shoes in the entryway. He took a few steps inside before noticing was wrong. Even though it was nearly dusk the house was completely dark and quiet as the grave. It sent shivers down America's spine, something was wrong. The feeling of dread just continued to look worsen as America began frantically searching the house for his second youngest state. When he reached the office, he almost overlooked her. The state was curled up on the corner in a mound of blankets. It took a few moments for her to even notice his presence. Then she finally looked up at him. Tears streaming freely down her cheeks, the look of complete and utter despair in her eyes.
"Alaska, what is wrong?"
"They died…." Her voice was drowned by renewed sobs.
"Who died?"
"My people…" Alaska whimpered. "My soldiers, my eyes, they died!"
Alfred was puzzled; he had not felt anything. He didn't know of any tragedy that had touched the nation. "Slow down, Alaska I need you to start at the beginning what happened?"
It took a few moments for the sobs to slow enough for her to speak. "The pilot that circled Anchorage for hours to connect us with the world…he was flying a mission at Valdez…something went wrong…the engine failed…the plane…it flew into the sea." Tears were streaming with renewed strength and Alaska barely choked out the last few words. "They all died…everyone on the plane…I couldn't protect them…"
"Alaska." America tried to sooth the distraught state.
"Alfred…I want to go home…I need to go home…I need to be with my people…"
"It is too soon. You can barely stand on your own right now."
"Don't my people need me?"
"Yes they need you Alaska, but they need you to heal even more." Alfred gently held the frail, shaking form in his arms. "And healing takes time, especially when the entire state was so affected, so many communities destroyed. We only got the fires out two weeks ago and functional airstrips in every community. The harbors are next…but rebuilding will take time."
Physically, Alaska was healing. The burns were almost gone; cuts were scabbing over, the bruises fading. But even as her body healed, the state's overall condition was getting worse…She stopped eating almost a week ago. Now all she did spent her days curled up in a ball staring at the wall.
America had done everything he could think of to nudge his state out of the funk. He cooked every comfort food recipe he knew how to make from fried chicken to apple pie. He had tried reading to his state from such American classics as Mark Twain and Jack London. He had even moved Alaska out of the guest bedroom, into his own master suite and then slept on the couch in the den so he could be close enough to hear her if she ever called for help in the night. None of these things slowed Alaska's deterioration. Knowing if things didn't change soon he would have to bring Alaska back to the hospital, America had called the most parental person he knew for advice. Unfortunately, America was now starting to think that the phone call might have been a mistake.
"Git! Have you even considered that you might be feeding her the wrong things?" England ranted."Honestly this is as bad as the time you sent milk as food aid to Korea."
"They were starving." America attempted to defend himself.
"They were also lactose intolerant! And by the end they were convinced that you were trying to poison them."The Brit interjected."It is possible that you are dealing with a similar situation here."
"But she is part of America."
"Yes, but clearly not all America can live off of a diet of hamburger, and honestly it is a wonder that you have stayed so healthy after switching to that McWhatever stuff."
"So, what you are telling me is that Alaska having stomach issues because she eats different types of food?" America asked, having a hard time believe that someone wouldn't want to live on hamburgers if they had a choice. But then again, it was worth a try. "Do you have any recipes?"
"Alaska is your state!"England huffed.
"So…" America let the world hang in the air.
"I have no clue how to make whatever those polar people eat. Call Mathew, he should have a better idea of what to do."
It turns out Canada not only had some ideas about the foods that Alaska might want to eat; but he also had a number of recipes that America might actually be able to successfully make. After giving him detailed instructions on what to buy at the grocery story, Canada promised that would put together a care package with the more unique ingredients that evening. Relieved, America picked up the phone for the third time that evening.
"Hey Virginia, I was wondering if I could ask you to do a little favor…I need you to watch Alaska for an hour or two…I need to run to the grocery store and pick up a few things and I don't want to leave Alaska alone right now…No, you have done a great job with the grocery shopping. I just need a few special ingredients and I really need to get out of the house for a…Thank you, I will see you at four tomorrow."
Dinner preparations were well on their way in Alaska's apartment, when there was a knock on the door. Massachusetts, Newfoundland, and Yukon all paused from their various tasks and looked at each other. The was another knock at the door, and Massachusetts rose from his place at the table and put down the paring knife he had been using to peel potatoes.
"I'll get it." With Massachusetts comment, Newfoundland went back to gutting the fish and Yukon continued to sauté the onions. Massachusetts walked down the short hallway to the front door.
"Hello, is this the residence of Logan Williams?"
The boy standing at the door couldn't have been more than 12 years old, but he still proudly was wearing the badge of a telegram boy on his Boy Scout uniform. In normal times someone that young would not be working for the telegraph company, but in wake of the earthquake everyone had been enlisted to help rebuild their community. Most scouts had been enlisted to be runners, delivering messages throughout the city of Anchorage.
"Yes." Massachusetts confirmed and the boy was visibly relieved.
"Are you him?" The boy pressed.
"No, I am one of his cousins." Massachusetts smiled pleasantly. "Why don't you come inside for a few moments and I will go and get him."
"Thank you, sir."
"Logan!" Massachusetts half hollered into kitchen. "You have a telegram at the door for you!"
"Coming." The territory moved the pan he was cooking with off of the stove and quickly wiped his hands off on a towel before making his way to the front of the apartment.
"I just need you to sign for this, sir." The boy said handing Yukon a clipboard. Yukon signed at the indicated box and before giving the forms back.
"Is there anything else you need?" Yukon asked formally.
"No, sir." The boy shook his head, and Yukon fished out a few American coins to tip the boy. The kid looked wide-eyed at the quarter that he was handed and grinned. "Thank you, sir."
The delivery boy then nimbly jumped down the cracked steps and went jogging down the street with such enthusiasm both state and the territory couldn't help but smile. With the boy gone from sight and the door shut, Yukon turned his attention to the small tube of paper in his hand. Slowly he unrolled and started to scan the contents.
"So who is it from?" Massachusetts questioned as the two walked down the hall to the kitchen.
"It is from Canada…" Yukon began, then his voice trailed off. For a few minutes Yukon sat reading and rereading the small slip of paper. Then he sat down heavily at the kitchen table, his hand covering his eyes. After a few moments he sighed heavily and climbed to his feet. He walked towards the door, but Massachusetts caught the territory's arm before Yukon had the chance to exit.
"What does it say?" Massachusetts asked in concern.
"That Alaska is doing really badly…" Yukon replied quietly, refusing to meet the states eyes. "She took the Air National Guard crash harder than anyone could have predicted. If her condition doesn't improve soon, America believes he will have to bring her to the hospital where measures will be taken to keep Alaska from harming her health further."
In shock, Massachusetts' fingers loosened their hold on the Yukon Territory. The states mind ticking through the possible meanings of the message, but the words 'measures will be taken to keep Alaska from harming her health further,' pounded in his head. No matter how he approached the message, Massachusetts couldn't help but draw the conclusion that Alaska was suicidal, and even though he didn't know his youngest sister well the thought was making him sick.
"When are ya' leaving?" Newfoundland's gravelly voice rumbled.
"Tonight." With that Yukon pulled away from Massachusetts and slipped from the room, leaving the state and the province in his wake.
Crisco, canned Alaska salmon, frozen blueberries (because it was the only berry on Canada's list that he could find in the supermarket), a loaf of sourdough bread… America thought he had done a pretty good job doing the grocery shopping; not that he felt the same confidence about cooking with these ingredients. After all, America couldn't figure out why someone would actually want to eat a dish made of a mixture of Crisco, salmon, and berries, but Canada had insisted that it was a popular treat for the Arctic territories so America would give it a try.
America's positive mood retreated a bit when he drove into his driveway. There was a small, single engine, propeller plane parked on his front lawn and a suspicious looking teenager sitting on his front stoop. America got out his car slowly, and walked toward the teen that was just looking up from the book he had been reading. With a bounce in his step the stranger bounded over to America and gave him a big bear hug.
"Hello, Uncle Alfred. My name is Logan Williams and I'm The Yukon Territory." The teen explained. "Canada said you've been having a bit of trouble with Alaska. I think I might be able to help."
Historical Note-In the aftermath of the Good Friday Earthquake, Alaskan and British Columbia communities dealt with a unique problem…having a little too much help. The populations in both of these areas was sparse, few people were badly injured, most local governments already had effective emergency response in place by the time the rest of the world reached Alaska. As a result, many doctors, nurses, and public safety officials who expected to be overwhelmed with casualties instead were roped into helping to load planes and demolish buildings.
End Note- If you have time please leave a review. It helps me know how to improve in future chapters.
Next Week's Chapter- Making Up Lost Ground- With Yukon's help, America starts to realize that despite Alaska's frosty exterior she is desperate to become a true part of the United States. Unfortunately large geography, small population, and a distinctive culture create a unique set of challenges.