This Uncivil War [Alfred]

[North Carolina]

There's a silence on the frontlines
You could cut it with a knife
______________________

February 11, 1865

This was it. One final stand on the coast. It made Caroline's stomach flutter to think of it; made the bile rise in the back of her throat. She didn't know how long it'd take, or how much would be lost, but she just wanted it to end. Here she stood though, outside of Wilmington with her boys. Dwarfed by most of them, and yet standing tall and almost... proud. She could practically smell the gunpowder and blood already, her nose wrinkling and lip curling in distaste. Fort Fisher had fallen, and now the Union was headed for her. For Wilmington.

Caroline, stubbornly, would not allow that to happen. Neither, she knew, would her boys. Here they were, on the front line and all but ready to die to defend the Confederate States of America. Those words still made a lump rise in her throat. She exhaled softly, knees quaking, but held herself upright still. She had to do this. Had to drive them away from her city. Her port. It was the only way to get supplies, the Union knew, and would be coming for her any moment now. She let out a long exhale to calm her screaming nerves, and closed sky-blue eyes, listening intently.

Faintly she could hear the marching Union regiments. Could still smell Fort Fisher burning; the awful, metallic scent of blood. The southern State clenched her fists, steadying herself, and took hold of a fallen firearm. She always hated these, but... It had to be done. For her sake and her family's.

It happened all at once.

Union forces got there quicker than they had estimated, and she staggered back, suddenly trembling at the sound of musketfire. No, no, no. This was all too soon. It couldn't happen like this. It just couldn't, wouldn't... She was too young for this. They were too young for this. Heart racing she stumbled away from Union lines, vision blurring as she attempted to fire off a shot of her own. Cursing the lack of accuracy, she fumbled to reload, eyes huge. Her heart thumped noisily in her ears. There was no way out, was there? She trembled again, raising the firearm once more.

A searing pain cut through her shoulder, and she could feel the warmth of blood spreading. Almost in shock by now, she couldn't register how much it truly hurt. She had to keep on fighting. Had to. For Joshua.

"F - for th' Confederacy..." She breathed, vision hazy with shock. Oh, how she wanted this to end. The wound in her shoulder? She could barely feel it; maybe it was out of shock, adrenaline, or both. All she knew was to take down the next person in her way.

______________________
You can stay and take your chances
Or you can run to save your life

A/N: I... I... there are no words. ;A;

[America]

Young men standing on the top of their own graves
Wondering when Jesus comes, are they gonna be saved?
_________________

This was it, the siege of the last port in the Confederacy. Wilmington. Fort Fisher had been taken out and captured not a month earlier, barricaded as the rest marched onward. The look on Joshua's face when the battle was over, that continued expression of stubborn defiance even when he when he was clinging to a wounded shoulder and being taken away by his soldiers. All to protect him, that was all he could do in an attempt to protect him without jeopardizing his 'duty' to to the Union.

His duty. The loyalty to the acting President. Leading the troops at General Grant's side. He wasn't doing this because it was his duty as a nation, but in the only possible way to try and protect his Southern states. He had shot Joshua so he couldn't fight anymore, he couldn't let him fight anymore. Kids, most of them were kids...Just like him. No older than he was during his own war.

He could hear the men behind them, preparing their weapons for the upcoming battle. He had taken care of Joshua, now he was after to secure his twin. He didn't want to do this to Caroline, didn't want to do this to any of them. What choice did he have? They left him with no other options. They had already said that they would fight tooth and nail to their last man, he unfortunately knew they meant it.

This was his fault, this whole war, it was his fault. He knew it was. His pride, stubbornness, and desire for power was what had led them here. Now he had to fix it. To end it.

His head gave a firm shake, looking down for a moment before looking back up in the direction of the blond girl standing in the front lines. Caroline. Pushing his glasses slowly back up the bridge of his nose, he glanced toward the General and gave a nod. He just listened as the shots rang through the air, piercing their marks as well as the return fire to them. Bodies rushed past him, barely flinching when a shot grazed his cheek. He could feel the trickle of blood trail down his face, but this was a battle. He couldn't worry about such a minor wound.

He raised his gun, resting the wooden hilt on his shoulder and closed one eye to take aim for his mark, finger hugging the trigger. "For the Union." Speaking in a quiet, dark tone, the trigger was pulled.

Cruelty to the winner, bishop tells the king his lies
Maybe you're a mourner, maybe you deserve to die
_________________

[North Carolina]

One side is retreating
And the other's runnin' scared
____________________

She couldn't hear anything over the pounding of her own heart. There was too much noise, too much gunsmoke already. Caroline knew that she had to get the hell out of there. Had to keep herself safe. Had to. For her brother.. She shook her head, staggering back away from the clamour of the front lines. Her head ached, her chest tight. Unconsciously she clutched to her slowly-bleeding shoulder, hissing to herself at the dull, throbbing ache; ignoring the bright crimson seeping out from between her fingers. Whatever. She'd find a way to deal with it. Vaguely, through the smoke, she could see a patch of blond. Even through the faded colours, it remained bright as ever. Sunny. Brilliant.

A voice, familiar, and yet so very strange to her in its tone.

Alfred.

Good god in heaven. No. This couldn't be happening. All around her, her boys were falling, either dead or praying for it. She weaved through the tight spaces between soldiers, stumbling, hoping, praying she wouldn't have to face Alfred down. It'd hurt too much. But... that was war, wasn't it? Her body refused to move. There was no way.

She had to. It couldn't, wouldn't end any other way. Wilmington needed her protection. Needed all of their protection. Caroline was just convincing herself, at this point. Hiding around a corner she gave her bleeding wound one final press, and darted back out into the fray. If the Union had to take her prisoner, so be it. But she would have to be bleeding and on her last legs before she went willingly. That was for sure. It was the Southern stubbornness in her. It would keep her fighting to her very last breath.

Even if there seemed no chance of winning.

Even if she was the last one standing.

So be it.

The young State glanced once at Grant - or at least, in his direction - as though determining whether it'd be worth it to try and get anywhere near Al -- America now. It seemed there was enough of an opening. However... When the elder nation had pulled the trigger, it'd found its mark. The very same shoulder, but a little lower than the first wound. Wincing inwardly, she staggered onward, making a beeline for the Yankee in question.

____________________
And the drums of war are beating
Even though it's undeclared

[America]

Call me a sinner, call me a saint
Tell me it's over, I'll still love you the same
_______________________

The sharp snaps of gunshots, piercing yells, and strangled cries of dying men were the only things that could be heard through the kicked up dust and gun smoke, his view of the battle that he knew to be occurring was nearly completely obscured. With conditions being as such, never once did he lower his gun, especially with the shot that he had taken. He had hit his mark, that much he was sure of.

If Caroline and her men wouldn't surrender, then he would just have to force them too.

Thuds of bodies hitting the ground below, dying groans from the soldiers who now laid close to dead or injured rose up through the air. He could feel the sharp thump against his chest, practically hearing his own rapid heartbeat. The adrenaline was pumping, the thrill of the battle. The rush from shooting a gun. However, this wasn't how he wanted to end this war. He had learned long ago, that violence in situations as such were the only answer.

Take down the ports for their supplies, soon they would be forced to surrender to the Union.

As well as to endure the punishment for treason against the land. He wanted to prevent that from happening, if he could.

A pained sound brushed against his ear. Caroline. So his bullet had hit its mark. Good. The sound of rushing footsteps, running toward...Him? The sight of Caroline emerging from the smoke and dirt, running toward him while clutching tightly at her own shoulder, caused a sharp pain to shoot through his chest. She was war-worn like the rest of them, once bright eyes were now dull and doll-like. He wished that he hadn't had to do what he had to do. It was for her own good.

His finger hugged the trigger once again, the barrel of the gun pointed directly at her heart. "Surrender Caroline. Don't make me have to take you down."

Call me your favorite, call me the worst
Tell me it's over, I don't want you to hurt
It's all that I can say, so I'll be on my way
_______________________

[North Carolina]

The yellow phosphorus creates a flame which
Burns this sinful body away to nothing
______________________

"Surrender, Caroline. Don't make me have to take you down."

Those words made her set her jaw stubbornly, lifting her chin with what wounded pride that she could muster. She knew she presented quite a sight to her brother figure opponent: covered in dirt, smoke burning her eyes, war-worn, dull. The Confederacy couldn't hold out much longer, she remembered telling the others. It was a gut feeling, one that hadn't left her since Sumter fell. She couldn't do this.

And yet...

And yet, she felt as though she could. The adrenaline rush that came from rebelling, from turning her back to the ones she once loved and called family -- it made her heart catch in her throat. Made a thrill skitter up her spine. Evenly, she stared into Alfred's eyes - and found something that sent a chill to the young Southerner's very core.

She could see the conflict. This was the Alfred she knew and loved, but at the very same time it wasn't. The very thought made her shiver, imperceptibly. It wasn't an expression she ever knew him to wear. He was as happy with this as she was, and she could see it. Caroline swallowed back the lump that rose in her throat, and flicked dusty-yellow hair from her eyes, giving him her best defiant, if worn-down and half-hearted, expression.

Again she met the blue eyes, so very similar to her own, both in colour and expression. This was what her brother had told her. Never give up. Don't go down until you're absolutely on your last legs.

But the musket barrel pointed directly at her heart was certainly troubling. Her breaths came in tiny flutters, but she refused to let her stress show. There was no way she could give him the satisfaction of a willing surrender.

"I'm sorry, Alfred." She spoke softly, that Carolina accent coming through thick and strong (it was stress, she supposed, making her nearly unintelligible). "But I'm afraid we can't let y'take us s'very easily." Take her down? Let him. Caroline took a few shaking steps forward, so that the musket barrel pressed into her thin chest. The pride showing in her eyes again, she gave the Yankee her best, confident smile. "Go ahead an' do it. Y'won't." She couldn't stop from sounding as reckless as she did; if it helped the situation, it worked.

______________________
I could see a silhouette swaying before me
Come on, burn with anguish a thousand-fold - because I burned the house that raised me

A/N: My heart. ;A; It's breaking.

[America]

Someday they'll carve in stone
"The hero comes come"
_____________________________

Eyes of ice continued to watch the girl's movements; each little step, each little flick of her body. Still standing tall and proud, still stubborn to the core despite being covered in dirt and smoke. He could tell, she still followed his words from his own fight. The words that he had told all of those who had fought at his side and those too young to fight for when they grew.

No matter what...To never give up. Never back down if you truly believe in what you're doing. Even if the fight was hard and they felt as though they needed to surrender, too always continue to stand strong no matter what. Fight until they could fight no longer.

He felt his eyes widen as she walked forward though not saying a word when the barrel of the gun pressed against her chest. She couldn't have...No! What the fuck was she thinking?! She couldn't possibly be doing what he thought she was doing, he couldn't. He couldn't. God forbid he couldn't do what he knew he would have to do. He however stood his ground, expression cold and unwavering as he listened to what she had to say as well as watch the smug smirk crossing on that dirty face of hers.

"I'm sorry, Alfred. But I'm afraid we can't let y'take us s'very easily. Go ahead an' do it. Y'won't."

So she was testing him. She didn't think he would actually do it. She didn't think that he wouldn't actually shoot her. She who he considered to be family, his sister. He had done it to her brother, and others before him in order to get them to back down to him. If it got them to not fight, then he would do whatever it took. Even if it meant by the pull of a trigger.

It seemed as though he would have to do it once again. Once again rip out a piece of his own soul for the sake of a step toward peace. Whatever it took.

"Don't tell me that I didn't warn you North Carolina." After speaking those icy words, his finger pushed down at the trigger. He heard and saw nothing save for the piercing gunshot that rang through the smoke and dirt-filled air.

He goes and comes back alone
But always
A hero comes home
_____________________________

[North Carolina]

Then from on high, somewhere in the distance
A voice calls
______________________

Caroline's eyes went wide, and she staggered back. She hadn't realized she'd screamed until her throat went raw and painful with the sound; sharp, high.  Every nerve ending was on fire. He'd actually done it. She couldn't believe it. Pulled the trigger on her. And not just that, but... He called her 'North Carolina'. Not Caroline. North Carolina. His tone detached. 

A hand went, weakly, to her gunshot wound. She could feel how it had torn through her muscles, shattered ribs on its way in. The girl stumbled, wide eyed, panting. Body numbing. Perhaps she'd punctured a lung. That'd be just perfect, right? She dragged her gaze up from the wound to look wearily at Alfred. The faintest hint of fear flickered in her gaze. No. No, no, no. Her breathing quickened, faltering. Her knees were quaking. 

She hadn't planned on dying, but it certainly seemed the grisly Reaper was coming for her. Before she knew it, she was on the ground, both hands scrabbling desperately at the wound in her chest. This... It... She could not think clearly any more. The rebelling state glanced to Alfred's towering figure, tears rolling down her cheeks and cutting through the layer of dust on her face. No. 

"A - America..."

 Her breath hitched. She could no longer fight. Would he leave her there? And what of her twin? Caroline shuddered weakly, a cold feeling beginning to grip her entire body. She licked her lips, although that didn't do her any good. Everything was on fire. He had shown her no mercy. Though, the rebelling State supposed, it was what she deserved. Trying to stem the fatal wound more desperately, her efforts grew slowly weaker. Blue eyes edged wide with terror. Her breath hitched. 

"America.." She could no longer fight. She could sense what was going to happen. That scared the hell out of her - but there wasn't much she could do about it at this point. 

____________________
"Remember who you are - For if you lose yourself your courage follows..."
So tonight, remember who you are

[America]

I don't wanna fall and say I lost it all
'Cuz maybe there's a part of me that hit the wall
____________________

He could feel the trigger pushing underneath his finger, though he at the moment couldn't bring himself to even care. Cold eyes watched as she staggered back when the bullet hit it's mark, seeing the dark stains rising and growing through the fabric of her uniform. He supposed it was what she had deserved, though he had his own alternate reason for doing what he had done. The barrel of his gun lowered with the faint traces of smoke and the smells of burnt gunpowder fluttered to his nose, eyes falling closed when he had heard his name as she fell into the dirt below.

America.

Not once, but twice.

Sharp pains seared through his head, taking a deep breath in a vain effort to even try and quell the searing sensations, though he knew that they wouldn't go away, at least not yet though he didn't mind if they didn't. At the very least, he was feeling something. This was the last resort that he had wanted to do, especially with ones such as Car-- North Carolina. He had to do it.

Turning on heel and walking toward the soldiers in the back lines, stopping for a moment after he had passed though didn't turn to look toward any of them before speaking in a crisp voice."Take the girl, you know where to take her." Walking forward again with the sounds of voices and running footsteps toward the laying figure in the now-sticky dirt, he didn't look back. He had done this for her own good, just like her brother and others before him. This was going to end, sooner if he could actually do anything about it to make that happen.

Leaving pieces of me behind, leaving pieces of me behind

[/b]
And I feel like I'm breaking inside[/i]
____________________[/center]

A/N: Short but nngghhh...

[North Carolina]

Lonely girl is always in a dream

[/size]
That never will be coming true
____________________________[/center]

"Take the girl. You know where to take her."

She barely took note of the soldiers coming toward her; focused on the graying sky the State could only give muffled whimpers in any sort of response. Her heart was faltering. It was getting painful to breathe. Coughing, a trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth; vision blurry. She focused on the streak of bright sun-yellow-shine that was Alfred, once vivid against the gunpowder and smoke. It now seemed to blend with the turmoil -- or was that just her darkening eyesight? She couldn't tell.

Caroline wasn't positive. Every nerve ending was shot through with agony, with weariness, with encroaching death. Brokenly, in the soldier's arms (She didn't know him, but hell, at least she was being carried somewhat carefully) she sobbed. It was harsh, quiet, only intensifying the aching in her chest. She had never seen nor smelled this much blood in her life -- and that thought terrified her. More than the battle at hand. She had to be tough, though. She had to take the bullet, the bleeding, the fact that she was dying. It was all for Joshua. For her twin; she had to stay strong (and alive, but that looked like it was out the window).

Weakly now, almost faltering, she pressed a hand over her faintly wavering heart. With every shuddering breath, she knew, she was closer to death than ever. And she had to keep her heart beating. Her shoulders wracked with another weak cough, producing another mouthful of blood. No, no, no, no. This can't...

She'd lost sight of Alfred, she realized numbly; with no clue of where she was being taken. Praying that she would at least recover from this in enough time. Or-- No. No. They wouldn't let her die, she was the goddamn State of North Carolina.

Closing her eyes, she gave a soft shudder.

Wherever she was going - and she knew this was basically 'surrender' - her brother would be there, too. And she would apologize for her weakness.

For breaking her promise.

_____________________________
Are you ready yet? Not even close.
My future is not looking good now

I'll just stop breathing now--
Help me..

A/N: Ow, ow, ow. ;n; But sorry this took so long and it's kind of short.

[America]

Baptized in the river
I've seen a vision of my life
And I wanna be delivered
___________________

Alfred's back was turned when the soldier had picked up Carol-- North Carolina to take her away from the battlefield, to take her to the prison were other Southern states were waiting, along with her brother. The battle was over, Fort Wilmington was sieged to lead to the rest of the full and complete North Carolina surrender. He only watched as the Northern wounded were taken from the battlefield and the Southern prisoners were marched off at gunpoint.

He felt numb now, the only other time that he had smelled this much blood and gunpowder smoke was on the fields of Gettysburg. Even as such, he pushed the memory to the back of his head to focus on the task at hand. The taking of the traitorous prisoners, tending to the wounded, and burying the recent dead.

His eyes closed when he heard footsteps walking up behind him, remaining quiet for a moment when a voice began to speak with him. "What are your orders sir? The General is tending to the taking of the prisoners with one of the groups of men." His orders, heh. His orders...

"You and the rest of the men tend to the wounded, get them to the nearest infirmary. We can't afford to lose anymore men, the tides are changing in our favor. The final battle is close, I can feel it." He knew that he sounded detached, but at the moment, he didn't care. Hearing the firm 'yes sir!' behind him and the footsteps hurrying away, Alfred took in a deep breath. Now to tend to his job, the job that he had assigned to himself and himself alone. Bury the dead.

His whole body felt heavy as he walked, as if his skin was replaced with lead. Finding a shovel and walking toward the first set of corpses, blue eyes stared at their muddy and blood-covered faces for a moment, at the blank eyes staring back at him. Tearing his gaze from that blank stare, the spade slammed into the ground as he began to shovel away the dirt in mounds. These men deserved better burials than this, but he couldn't just allow them to stay like this. This was his penance. Had been...After every battle. To help remind himself of what was really important.

With each shovel, the walls begun to break. His chest had tightened, stomach twisted in knots, the tears rolling down his cheeks. God help them. Help all of them.

Even though he wasn't sure that there was even one anymore.

Once the first grave had been dug, the shovel fell onto the ground before he kneeled next to the dead soldier; reaching forward to carefully close his eyes. Alfred's head bowed as he whispered a quiet prayer for the soldier's soul, that hopefully maybe one day...He and his family could forgive even though it wasn't deserved. Moving his hand in the cross over his chest and carefully picking up the body and setting him in the grave before shoveling the dirt over him, his hands gripped tightly to the wood of the shovel.

He had many more to do before nightfall, he hoped and prayed he wouldn't have to do it for North Carolina either.

In the city with the sinner
I've done a lot of things wrong
But I swear I'm a believer
___________________

[North Carolina]

Remembering all of that moment
Naturally repeating that sin over and over
_______________________

It seemed like an eternity before she finally awoke, cracking her eyes to find a heavy ache in her chest and cold stone against her back. Everything felt as though she herself was made of stone; blinking in the dim candlelight, she found that she was exactly where she'd estimated. A Union prison; exactly where was far from her mind at the moment. She shifted in place, glancing out to the hallways, and, in a moment of sleepy blurriness, glanced down. Faintly she could make out the outline of bandages over her chest - at least that was taken care of - and her hands in her lap, wrists encircled by darkly-coloured chains. Caroline flexed her hands, testing the shackles briefly. There was little to no movement. All around her, she could hear pacing, impatient people, and perhaps, drawing closer, a voice she vaguely recognized.

The State glanced outside again, blue eyes focusing wearily on a brightly burning candle. The flame flickered reds and oranges, a faint shade of yellow that had attracted her eye in the first place. She squirmed again, impatient and yet weary, half-listening to the voices drawing closer to her cell. Wondering, she took a half-hearted glance outside; tapping her fingers against her knee. Why did she know that voice so well -- if she knew it as well as she was thinking, how come she didn't know their name right away? It sounded like arguing, shouting at the very least, and honestly, she didn't want to be involved.

Licking her lips, she decided she'd at least investigate. "Hello...?" She called softly, curiously; if it was a Union soldier she knew she'd be ignored, but there was always that chance -- "Who's there...?" She knew she knew this person, or people, judging by the number of voices.

"Little girl's sins are getting very old,"
"You are far away from me forever..."
_______________________

[South Carolina]

Our time is running out
Our time is running out
__________________

Even though he hadn't been there for very long, for Joshua, it felt as though it had been an eternity since he had been forced into this hellhole of a prison. It was worse than a hellhole. He supposed it was what he and everyone else who had managed to end up here deserved, they were prisoners of war now. They had lost Fort Fisher not even a month ago, but it felt longer than that. He hadn't been able to move much since he was shoved and chained in the dank cell, but all he wanted to do was pace or beat at the stone walls. Just something. Just give him something. But no, 'course not. Couldn't have the Confederate lashing out at Union guard now, could they? However, that was the last thing on his mind.

The state had heard the guards talking, Wilmington had fallen to the Yanks. One of the last strongholds that they had had was now in the hands of the enemy Union, but that also meant...Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. His sister. His twin sister. That meant that she was captured he was sure unless she had gotten away, or was-- no, she wasn't. There was no way. They were states. They couldn't die. Uneasy nerves pitted in his stomach at the thought, worried about the possible state that his little sister was in. If that bastard did anything to hurt her, all Hell would break loose. He would raise hell. He would strangle the fucker once he got his hands on him and got his hands around his throat.

He would kill him. He would fucking kill him. Joshua didn't care about the consequences, all he cared about right now was the state of Caroline.

Looking upward when he heard the door at the end of the hallway opening and the click and clatters of the cell and chains, his eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of blonde hair. Caroline. It had to be Caroline. The guard was carrying her, wh-- Blood. Blood all over her. She had been-- good God. Trying to bolt out of his seat and run toward the cell door, he only found himself to be pulled back against the wall by the chains around his wrists. "Caroline! You son o' a bitch what di' you to my sister?!" He was screaming mostly to himself, more to America even though he knew he wasn't there. He continued to struggle against the chains, growling and glaring as the guard passed again.

He was angry, beyond angry. This was his sister they were dealing with.

Eyes widened when he heard her voice, turning his head to look toward the wall that led to the next cell. She was ok...Thank God she was ok. But she sounded so weak. "Caroline? Tha' you?"

You can't push it underground
You can't stop it screaming out
__________________

[North Carolina]

Soon the people may come to punish us
While we deserve it, you have no need to fuss
____________________

She didn't react to the sound of his voice as quickly as she normally would've, only turning her head in the direction of the sound; as though making to memorize the pattern of brick there. Then, slowly, it processed, and sea-blue eyes dilated, squirming as far as she was able to get to him.

He'd sounded so upset mere moments ago. It had, quite frankly, scared her a bit. The State moved as though she would reach for her twin, palm instead making contact with cold brick.

"Yeah... Josh... Yeah, 's me." Her voice wavered, and she leaned against the brick, eyes falling shut. "S - sorry I couldn' hold Wilmington." If only she was willing to tell him - to let him know how willingly she stepped to meet the barrel of Alfred's gun, how she'd smiled and basically signed her own death certificate (if only temporarily). Her pride wouldn't let her, though, as much as she wished to.

She wrenched at the chains, however, wishing she could break free of them and at least settle beside her brother. It was troublingly cold and lonely here, even if her twin was just one cell over. The girl shuddered faintly, using a sleeve to wipe drying blood off of her face.

They were Union prisoners now. Subject to whatever fate awaited them. Treason (as certain as it was, her stomach turned at the word and what it meant for them) was certainly a crime to be dealt with swiftly. She couldn't let him face whatever punishment would be meted out - would not be able to bear watching Joshua going through such fate.

Even if he was 'evil' in the eyes of the North, she decided firmly - soundlessly - then she was, as well. After all, didn't twins share the same blood?

If all the world believes that you are evil
Then I am evil as well, because I share your blood
____________________

A/N: Oww. ;n; My emotions are doing so many things.

[South Carolina]

You are my princess
I am only your servant
We are twins that destiny has played a cruel jest on
____________________

To Joshua, the waver in her voice was one that she could never be able to stand when it came a time when it did happen. However, he could actually hear her voice. Though in a way it served both as an ironic form of comfort but also served as a reminder of what he couldn't and didn't do. He couldn't keep his promise to the one he held most dear to him.

He couldn't protect her. He was too weak to protect her.

But she was apologizing? To him? It wasn't her fault, she should have known that. She thought that he would have cared that Wilmington fell? Did she really think...The boy snapped from his thoughts when he heard the rattle of chains on the other side of the wall, his eyes beginning to widen. Those damn Yanks did what it sounded like that they did?! They already had her, more insult to injury. Show that they were their prisoners now, that they could do whatever the damn hell that they wanted with them now. Those same damn Yanks were going to win the war. After it ended...God help them with what their punishment was likely to be.

They had all committed treason, usually only punishment was executed for a crime that high. He could feel his stomach knot and turn at the thought, he couldn't let that happen to his sister. He would take the fall for her if it meant to save her life, after all...This whole mess was his fault. She didn't need to face the punishment for a crime that he himself had committed, she was only following after him so they wouldn't have to fight against one another. After all, they were twins...They could get her out easily, fake her own death so she could escape.

If it came to it...That's what he would do. He couldn't see her go through whatever punishment that America came up with.

"Ya think I care 'bout tha'? Caroline, I jus' wanna know tha' yer ok...An' promise ya tha' 'm gonna get ya outta here, no matter wha'."

Even if the whole world turns against you
I'll become the only evil that is on your side
____________________

A/N: All my emotions...;A;

[North Carolina]

Far away at a small harbor straying off of town
Stands a lonely girl with regretful sin
___________________

The sound of his voice was always comforting to her; she closed her eyes, letting her head rest against the brick. Contemplating. It hurt her to even think of, nowadays - even as their nation had divided into two, it hurt - to imagine the rest of her life like this. But... The Yanks had the war in their hands now. No doubt everything would return to the way it was.

Though not exactly 'the way it was' for the southerners, exactly. They would be treated as criminals. Would no longer be trusted so completely.

That was, if they survived whatever punishment was executed upon them. It made a lump rise in her throat, eyes stinging.

No. Don't think of it that way, don't. Don't you dare start this.

Attempting to force her thoughts elsewhere only brought her back to the start of all this. To four years ago - a harsh storm, thunder rumbling, lightning cracking the sky. Rain pounded over their heads; little had they all known a worse storm was on the horizon. She was frozen in shock, then, her gaze locked on her brother and their Nation, blue eyes edged wide.

He'd brushed straight past her without another thought, radiating anger and spite. It would have been easy as breathing to just get a hold of him and smack some sense into him...

In that moment, she regretted it. Regretted not taking a hold of her brother's wrist and holding him back as he stormed out of the meeting, into pouring rain, those years ago. This would never have happened if she could have just talked him out of it--

Her thoughts snapped back to the present, soon enough, and she nodded as though her twin could see her.

"I was jus' wonderin' if ya were okay, too... I mean.. No' like yer gettin' me outta here and not goin' yerself.. Righ'?"

Floating above the waves, a small bottle of glass
Drifts away with a lonely girl's message
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