Chapter 6
After that, the whole week seemed to blur together. If the meetings Alfred had attended earlier in the week had been boring, then these were like watching grass grow. They seemed slower, longer, and far less progressive than any he'd been to prior to that. No one was willing to budge. Few were willing to make deals. He might as well have not attended, because his presence didn't seem to make any of the meetings move along or solve anything as it was.
He saw little of Yong Soo for the rest of the week. Once or twice they passed each other in the hall, and though Yong Soo would smile at Alfred as he walked by, Alfred had a feeling he was smiling simply to maintain a level of friendliness. The Korean's eyes didn't shine the way they usually did when he smiled, and his eyebrows knitted together the way they did when he was worried. Even Alfred, who was notorious for not being able to read people, could tell it was fake.
North Korea also seemed to decide not to bother him anymore, because the one time Alfred had managed to spot him after his talk with China, the Korean scurried away before Alfred had a chance to talk to him.
When Alfred at last left the final meeting of the week, it was a big burden lifted from his shoulders. At least, for a while, he could stop worrying about meetings between nations whose problems he would be little help in fixing. For a while. He still had a long flight back to Washington in the morning, a day or two of jet lag, and of course, a talk with the President about the issue of North Korea.
Out of all the nights after the conferences, it was probably the best night of sleep he'd gotten. After taking a quick shower and watching a little television, Alfred climbed into bed and fell right asleep. It was a good thing too, as he suspected he'd be suffering many sleepless nights in the near future.
He awoke sometime around 9:00am, nearly fully rested though he had a feeling he'd be a bit mentally fatigued from all the meetings for at least a few days. With his flight back to the States leaving around 1:45pm (nonstop, arriving in Baltimore at 5:20pm), he had plenty of time to pack up, check out, and grab some lunch before heading over to the airport.
It took him maybe a half hour to pack up all his things. He still had an hour to kill, but he quickly grew bored with British television and pulled out his phone. Normally, he would have called Yong Soo, but Alfred had a feeling the Korean wouldn't really want to talk to him. Maybe there was someone else nearby that he could hang out with for about an hour.
One of the first people to appear on his contacts list was Arthur Kirkland. Alfred smiled. Perfect. Arthur might still be nearby, helping to clean up after the conferences. Alfred pressed the call button and held the phone to his ear.
After four rings, Arthur answered.
"What do you want?" he griped into the phone before Alfred even had a chance to greet him.
"Good morning to you too, Arthur," Alfred answered, rolling his eyes. "Where are you?"
"Why do you want to know?" the Englishman demanded hotly. Alfred could almost see him tapping his foot impatiently on the other end of the line.
"I wanted to know if I could come hang out with you for a while. I'm bored and we don't see each other as much as we used t-"
"I'm busy," Arthur said flatly. "Busy cleaning up the mess you and all the other delegates left at the conference center. And I have a meeting with London officials in an hour."
"...You wanna take a break? Just for a few minutes?" Alfred asked hopefully. It always seemed like Arthur was too busy for him. It was the way their relationship had been for a long time. When he wasn't rearing a childish American in the New World, he'd been busy raising an empire elsewhere. Though his empire was long gone, Arthur still seemed to always find a reason to not see him.
"I'm busy," Arthur repeated, not to the American's surprise. "Don't you have a plane to catch or something?"
"Not yet. Can't I just come over there and help you clean up or something? I've got an hour."
There was a short pause. Maybe Arthur had actually considered for a moment that it would be nice to see Alfred cleaning up after not only himself, but other people as well. But in the end, he decided he'd rather not deal with the American. "You would just get over here and then you'd have to leave. I wouldn't want you to miss your flight."
"Because you just want me gone that bad?" Alfred teased into the phone, smiling a little.
He could hear Arthur give a little amused snort on the other end. "Yes. Obviously."
"I know you don't hate me that much."
"No," Arthur conceded, and Alfred could almost see him shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "I never have. You just have a rather unfortunate habit of annoying me, oh...all the damn time."
"So sorry!"
"Oh, I know you are."
Alfred caught himself grinning. "All right, then. Some other time?"
"Perhaps."
Well, that was better than a flat out 'no'.
"Fine. You have fun cleaning up then, ya hear?"
"Oh, I will. Go catch your flight."
"Bye, Cranky."
"Bye, Twat." Then he hung up.
Alfred glanced at the clock. Only 10 o'clock. He'd probably leave for the airport in about forty-five minutes. By now it almost wasn't worth going to meet anybody. At least he'd killed some time talking to Arthur.
Well, it was better to be safe than sorry. Making sure all his belongings were in order, he went to check out of the hotel. At least he would definitely have enough time to get to the airport.
As it turned out, leaving earlier had been a better idea than he'd thought. Traffic ended up being heavier than he'd expected, and being unaccustomed to driving on the left side of the road always made his driving experience in England that much worse.
He made it to the airport right on time though, and successfully returned his rental car, had a quick, early lunch, and got through security with time to spare.
Soon enough he was on his flight home. By no means was it one of the longest flights he'd ever been on, but it certainly seemed that way. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he'd slept so well the night before and couldn't pass the time by sleeping as a result.
It was about 5:00pm in Baltimore when the plane landed. Sighing, Alfred remembered he'd have to adjust to the time difference again. It took him about 20 minutes to find his luggage on the carousel, and he probably spent another hour or so in line at customs.
Finally, he was ready to leave. By now, his head was beginning to throb with the beginnings of a headache. He felt like his vision was beginning to close in, his thoughts getting cloudier as he grew too tired to process what he was seeing. Beyond customs were several people standing around with signs. At first, he couldn't find one with his name, and it was only after the man with a sign labeled 'Alfred' came up to him that Alfred noticed him and recognized him as a White House attendant.
"Are you ready?" the man asked, folding the sign under his arm. Alfred felt a tug of guilt, because though he recognized the man as a White House attendant, he could not remember his name. Maybe he was already feeling the effects of jetlag.
"Ready to get home," he answered, falling in step behind the attendant as he turned to lead Alfred out of the airport. "Let's go."
Rush hour traffic between Baltimore and Washington was absolutely awful that night. Alfred wasn't sure what time it was when they arrived at the White House, but he was pretty beyond caring. He didn't actually live in the White House with the president - at least not most of the time - but because he ended up spending a lot of his time there, he had a fully equipped room on one of the upper levels. His usual residence was a manor in Pennsylvania, though he had some kind of residence in each of the fifty states. Since obviously he wasn't going to be going anywhere else tonight, he thanked the attendant who'd driven him home, trudged up to his room with his luggage, and fell asleep on the bed without even bothering to unpack.
A pair of big, brown eyes were staring back at him when he awoke the next morning. He pulled back in surprise, and the eyes' owner giggled.
"Good morning, Alfred!" a girl's voice chimed. "Daddy wants you."
"Ugghn," the nation groaned, rolling over and hiding his face back under the covers. "What for?"
"To talk about stuff," the girl replied, sitting back a little now so that she wasn't so close to him. "He didn't say exactly. He just asked me to wake you up."
"Ohmmmf," Alfred mumbled sleepily into the sheets before finally raising his head to peer at the girl. "Thanks..."
"You're welcome. Just make sure you get up."
"'Kay..."
After the girl left, Alfred lay in bed for a few more minutes, savoring its warm embrace before finally hauling himself up and putting on some proper clothes (he was still wearing what he'd worn on the plane the day before).
Though whatever the president wanted to talk to him about could have been any number of things, Alfred knew good and well it would be primarily about the past week's conferences. Then another thought occurred to him. If this meeting with North Korea was really going to be as soon as Yong Soo had said, then it was probably something the president would want to speak to him about as well. Unsure whether it would be just the president or other officials too, Alfred dressed in business casual, pulling on some slacks and a button up shirt, knowing fully that it would be the other officials who would disapprove of poor attire rather than the president, who by now was used to seeing Alfred wandering around the White House in pajamas.
When he got to the office, it was empty except for the president, who sat on one of the couches, scribbling away at something on a clipboard. It would appear Alfred had made the right dress decision, because the president was dressed similarly to how he was – simply, in just a button up shirt and some slacks.
Alfred knocked on the doorframe but proceeded to walk in before the president even had a chance to look up. "Knock, knock."
"Good morning, Alfred," the president said, glancing up from his work for just a moment to acknowledge the nation's presence before looking down at his clipboard again. "How was London?"
"It was fine," Alfred answered, taking a seat on the couch across from him.
"Reach any agreements?"
"A few."
The president seemed to sense that the conferences hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped. "A week's not quite long enough, is it?"
"Not for that many conferences, it's not."
"Ah." For a moment, they sat in silence, Alfred watching as the president continued scribbling away. A moment later, he set the clipboard off to the side and gave his nation his full attention.
For a while, they just talked about what agreements had been reached. It was customary for the nations to reach a (theoretical) consensus among themselves, then relay whatever the decisions had been back to their bosses. If the leaders agreed, the arrangements could then become permanent. As for the meetings where no consensus had been reached, Akfred simply told his boss how the other nations had felt about what, and under what conditions a consensus might be reached. It was a method that didn't always solve problems, but it allowed the president to get a better idea of how the other nations felt without having to personally visit the leaders of all of them.
Finally, the president asked: "Did you speak to South Korea?"
"Yes."
"You got those trade agreements sorted out?"
"Yes. I'll bring you those notes later when I bring the others."
The president nodded. "I received a message from President Lee while you were gone. Did South Korea relay it to you?"
"They're going ahead with the drills," Alfred answered, frowning. "And he also told me the North Koreans wanted to speak with us."
"Yes..." The president nodded. "Specifically, they wanted to talk to Bill Richardson of New Mexico. That is encouraging, at least, because it shows they're beginning to take an interest in talking with the US, finally. Though, they still won't talk to South Korea alone. Are you okay with going?"
Alfred nodded. He didn't feel like he had much room to say no. If there was something he could do to keep more violence from happening in Korea, he felt like he had to do it. "Of course. Who else will be going?"
"Mr. Richardson, of course," the president began, looking up to the ceiling as if searching his mind for the list. "Tony Namkung, some advisors, and a few journalists."
"Journalists?" Alfred resisted the urge to groan. It seemed like every time journalists went to North Korea, Alfred had to make a-whole-nother trip to bring them out.
The president seemed to read his thoughts. "I know. But you know how they insist on being in on everything."
Alfred leaned back in his seat and tilted his head up towards the ceiling, giving a long, frustrated sigh. "This is going to make everything more complicated..."
"Just keep an eye on them. Don't let them leave the group for anything."
Despite that advice, both of them knew that was far easier said than done. At least, he though, whatever North Koreans were assigned to be their handlers would be at least some help in keeping nosy journalists in line.
"Did you get a chance to speak to North Korea about this at all?"
Oh. It occurred to Alfred that the president probably hadn't heard about his little scuff with the North Korean. Or China's stiff warnings. Or the fact that he was a little more nervous talking to either Korea afterwards.
"Not really." Alfred twined his fingers together in his lap. "Kind of hard to hold a conversation with the guy."
"I see..." the president eyed him thoughtfully. "We'll just have to hope that gets fixed before you go off to speak with him in his own country."
"Yeah..."
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence between them. Perhaps, Alfred thought, the president didn't expect much to come of this trip. Maybe to him it was all a waste of time. Maybe he didn't think there was any hope of easing tensions in Korea and that some kind of violent outbreak was inevitable. It was possible the whole thing was nothing more than a political move to him - something to make it look like the US had tried to do something even though nothing could actually be done. And maybe there was some truth to that. Maybe even the North Koreans didn't think there was a diplomatic solution and simply wanted to make it look like they'd tried diplomacy before resorting to violence. But why, then, had they requested to talk to the United States instead of South Korea? Because they knew no one expected breakthroughs from a North-South talk anyway? Did they think the rest of the world somehow saw a North Korea-US as more promising?
"So, when exactly will I be leaving, then?" Alfred asked, forcing himself to put speculation aside and think a bit more positively.
"We've been told December 14th," the president responded, "But that could change."
Alfred felt his spirits lift a little. Surely they wouldn't be gone for more than a week? That meant there was a chance he'd be home for Christmas.
If we're not at war, he reminded himself sternly. "How long will we be there?"
"Well, keep in mind Mr. Richardson is officially in charge of this trip. The North Koreans asked for him, and though we've approved him to go, my administration and I have nothing to do with the itinerary."
"So...do you know how long it is?"
"I believe Mr. Richardson has told us six days, but as I said...that can change if he decides to leave early or stay longer. I'm sure Mr. Richardson will send you more information when the time nears."
Alfred was silent, now studying his knees as he let this all sink in. Talking about when and where this trip would be made it seem that much more real. And to make it worse, every time Alfred pictured North Korea, all he could see was the man's dark eyes boring into him. Unforgiving and cold. And he couldn't imagine how on earth any number of meetings would achieve anything. But he had to remain optimistic.
"Right, then," he muttered, directing his eyes back to the president, who was already looking back to his clipboard for the next topic of discussion.
"So, about that agreement with China..."
In the days leading up to the trip, Alfred tried to think as little about it as possible. In case he didn't come back, he thought, he ought to give some of his states one last visit. It wasn't possible to visit all 50, obviously, but he did manage to visit a few nearby. Maybe he actually was afraid the delegation would somehow get stuck in North Korea, or maybe he just wanted to relax, but either way, the brief visits did manage to calm his nerves.
On his final free day before the departure, he made a trip to the Pennsylvania countryside for some hiking. Though the famous autumn foliage had already fallen, just being back in nature was very relaxing to him. The fast pace of city life disappeared, and sometimes he felt like he might even be able to forget who he was - that he was the United States of America, that he felt when his people suffered, or could almost buckle under the weight of international stress. What must it feel like to be a normal human, he wondered? Some days he felt like, if he had the option to become a normal human, he would. But then who would do his job? He was aware that his actions as a nation affected not just his own people, but people around the world. His actions touched many - hopefully for the better - even if they'd never know. And it was that that made him believe his nationhood was a position he would never give up, even if he could.
He spent one last night in the Pennsylvania manor, and then it was off to the airport. The flight would connect in Los Angeles, then it would be straight to Beijing, and from there, another flight to Pyongyang. Alfred, though he'd spoken with Mr. Richardson prior to boarding the flight, couldn't help but wonder how prepared he (or any of the other delegates, for that matter) were for this. As he took his seat near the window of the plane, he could only hope the man knew what he was doing.