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Every single day of the shutdown there was something. There was always something. Some new bullshit spit out on TV, some new horror story from ICE, some new grant that was shut down, some new Hatch Act violation, there was always something but he had to keep going. Sure, he wasn’t being paid and was technically furloughed, but that just meant he had more official free time to try and help. His phone constantly buzzed with notifications from social media and over a hundred different local and national news sites. He was also pouring over internal traffic from most of his agencies and sorting through to see who could use an extra hand for a bit.
Today, for some reason, was worse than the others so far.
He woke up on the couch at an odd angle, still in a National Park Service Ranger uniform from a late-night rescue in Grand Teton. His phone was plugged in at least, especially since it was basically on all the time from his current set up. He scrolled through for a bit to schedule out the day. NOAA was behind on calculations for predicting how this winter would fare, multiple laboratories with the DOE and DHHS were trying to run experiments still that couldn’t be interrupted but still had folks that couldn’t come in, ATC and TSA were already having some call offs he could help with at peak travel times for his Cat X airports, there were still more rescues in other National Parks that could use a hand, VA hospitals were short-staffed, and —
He felt sick to his stomach. No eating again, at least for this morning. Every day this dragged on more and more of his people grew hungry or anxious and he could feel it buzzing under his skin. He brewed fresh coffee after peeling himself off the couch and immediately scalded his tongue on it. With the skin charred over he chugged the rest, knowing his body would probably heal it. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time, his phone was already blowing up with more notifications of people and agencies who needed help.
Every time he tried focusing on getting ready, his phone gave another ping that drew him away. By the time he was actually good to go, he felt as though the entire morning had gone by. Alfred tried thinking of where to go first, but with how scattered his mind was he felt as if his atoms were being ripped apart as he attempted to teleport to five places at once. He stopped and caught his breath as the pain dissipated; clearly trying to decide who needed the most help wasn’t working so…
Meetings. Just conversations with humans to center himself. He could handle that.
He bounced around the IRS for a while afterwards and moved to his next meeting at the FSA. These were easier, even if he kept adding to them as he got reminded of more from his phone. By the afternoon in eastern time, he had attended a dozen of them and also swung by to check in on another agency that he hadn’t looked at since the shutdown began. He teleported home with the intention of eating lunch, but nothing in the fridge looked appetizing. What did look nice though was the couch. Still in his day clothes, Alfred curled up on it and wrapped the thin blankets around himself. He just needed to close his eyes for a bit. Just for a bit…
It was dark outside when he woke up.
No, no, no, the day couldn’t be over just yet. He still needed to help rescue people and double check some labs and he was going to help put up posters for various protests in his cities and he told that one intern at NASA that they’d meet up to discuss career options since no one was paying any attention to them and that one White House staffer wanted to know his actual opinion on the Defense Secretary’s speech because he’s sure as fuck not calling it the Department of War and he forgot he had to meet with his fucking Boss tomorrow too because he can’t get a moment of peace ever and another news alert pinged from his phone again and again and again and again and —
“STOP! EVERYTHING JUST FUCKING STOP!” He screamed, straining his vocal cords. He threw his phone down at the hardwood hard enough to leave a crater and leaped on top of it, hitting it over and over again until it was dust. The wood splintered and cracked and broke under the force and his hands were covered in splinters. He dug his fingernails into his skull and pressed down, so close to ripping the —
Call Ivan. He promised that he’d call but now the phone is broken and…
Just. Get out. Get out of the house. Get away from everything, just for a night.He grabbed Ivan’s biggest hoodie from the coat hanger, leaving his wallet behind. He didn’t want to go far, just…out.
The late October air was crisp and cold, easily cutting through the thick fabric. The cold was good, though, it helped. He started in a random direction from his house, walking along the well-lit streets that hid the stars. Breaking his phone was so fucking stupid. The SIM card was probably destroyed, so he would have to get everyone’s contacts again. Would everyone still want his number? Maybe it would be a blessing for most to not have to deal with him anymore. It was a complete overreaction anyway, why didn’t he just turn off the phone or put it away until tomorrow morning? That's how any normal person would react and not a bumbling idiot who yelled when the world didn’t fall silent at his command.
A breeze came through and he shivered. Alfred brought his arms around himself in a hug to try and ward off the cold. His nose was probably red by this point and the large hood was getting annoying as it whipped around with the wind. Ivan was cold all the time, and he had it a lot worse than Alfred did. Why should he be complaining anyway? His life was incredible compared to some other Nations. He’s just being a baby about everything happening right now. China’s gone through this dozens of times, so have most of the older Nations. This was just all a part of growing up, he couldn’t run from it forever.
He couldn’t really feel his fingers too well anymore. There was still a bit of blood caked under his fingernails from earlier. As soon as he was a little bit upset, he resorted to ripping his skin apart. What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he a freak that thinks doing that is a good solution besides the fact that it’s the only thing that makes him remotely feel okay the past few weeks? None of his hobbies brought him any joy (not that he had been doing them recently anyway), and all he did was work and sort of sleep. Seeing the blood was the only thing that reminded him he was still alive. But all for what? He makes his partner sad whenever he hurts himself, he can’t get his government to function to help his people, he doesn’t have anything to be outside of work and the work he does is constantly added to in every direction —
Alfred looked up while under a streetlight, watching the moths flutter around it. There were probably less of them this year than last year, and next year there will be less of them still. His heart felt like it was going too fast for his body, maybe some time to think was the opposite of what he should’ve done. The breeze felt cooler here, and Alfred looked up to see the Potomac River behind the banister. Had he really walked that far away?
He hopped over the barrier with ease and started down the rocky slope to the water, then reaching down and dipping his hand in. The bite from the harsh cold cut through him like a knife. All he could suddenly feel and think about was the cold sinking into his soul. He got up and started walking into the water, thankful he didn’t bring anything of value with him. Alfred welcomed the waves and his discomfort of wet socks disappeared once his feet were numb. This was what he needed.
The water kept rising, his only thoughts on how good the numbness felt. The constant news alerts and cries from his people all felt so far away once his feet started kicking to stay afloat. He didn’t have an exact idea in mind of where he was swimming to. Downstream for a few miles, or until the sun rises? Just straight across? Turning back to shore wasn’t an option because all that held was pain and never doing enough. He could deal with all that once it wasn’t so dark out and he could think more clearly. Alfred could feel the grime from the pollution in the river and a few fish swim by to check him out. This is where he should —
A sudden wave came from behind him and pushed the hood over his head. The shock from the cold fully covering him had him breathing through the cloth.
He was drowning despite being completely on land.
Those overlooking the constant testing kept pouring water over a handkerchief covering his face, but at least it stopped the worst of the visual hallucinations for the past while. The relentless water finally stopped and they let him catch a few breathes.
“How can we study your blood?” They demanded, “It dries up and stains our equipment too soon for us to test it. Tell us how,” Alfred clamped his mouth shut, he couldn’t let them know this was almost getting to him. He could feel where the IVs were pumping paralyzers into his muscles to stop him from breaking out, and the one by his neck was probably where they put whatever truth drug or hallucinogen they were testing in given how quick it hit after. It didn’t matter if his body adapted either since they noticed him twitching and immediately upped the dosage. He wished they gave him a numbing agent as well, but he knew they were cataloging his reactions to their torture. As they poured more water on his face though and his lungs struggle to breath the air all around him, he felt his patience thin.
These were his citizens so he didn’t want to hurt them. But the rage boiling under his skin could only be contained for so long before it broke. Something would give; either he would adjust faster than their drugs or they’d make a mistake. That was the one thought that kept him sane as he saw them grab a hose instead of a bucket.
The first thing he heard was his heartbeat. Not the solid, steady one he could hear in silence, but a mechanical beep symbolizing it.
He was in a god damn hospital.
His eyes flew open and flicked to his arm that had an IV attached to it. What the hell were they pumping into them? Was he back? Did they find the program files and revive it along with everything else going on? He started reaching for it, ready to tear it out —
“It’s clean,” A voice said. Not just any voice, he knew who it was. How the hell was he here, though? His hallucinations weren’t normally audible.
“And how do you know that, Matt?” Alfred asked the empty room.
“Because I watched them the entire time,” In the chair to his right, beyond the IV, Canada made himself visible. He was carrying a variety of knives on his belt and boots and held a shotgun in his hand and a rifle on his back, “No signs of tampering or extra notes or anything like that,”
“Thanks,” Alfred sighed, “Kinda surprised you’re here. Didn’t you freak out last time we were by a hospital?”
“That was twenty years ago and you can see how prepared I am. They’re not getting either of us again,” He had to keep him talking because if he stopped for a fucking second to think about everything right now he was gonna freak out.
“How’d you even know I was here, anyway? My phone is kinda outta commission,”
“We made plans and you didn’t show. Thought I’d check in and found your phone and…everything else,” Alfred cringed, remembering the state of his house, “I begged some of the animals that live on both of our lands for help, and they eventually led me to you being put in the ambulance,” Now that Alfred actually looked at his brother, he looked exhausted. Animals responded to Nations since they were both fundamentally just part of the landscape, but communicating took a lot more concentration.
“You didn’t have to do that, dude. I would’ve been fine, promise! And uh — I kinda completely forgot about the hang out with everything,”
“I figured,”
He ‘figured’. He ‘figured’ that he would be a sloppy mess. He ‘figured’ that he would forget about his own brother. He ‘figured’ that he would —
The door opened and Matthew turned invisible again, leaving Alfred alone to face off against the doctor. He heard his heart rate spike on the monitor. The doctor reached forward and muted it, and Alfred hoped she wouldn’t hear the three breathes in the room without it.
“Good evening, or morning considering the time,” she said, “I’m Dr. Collins, what’s your name? We didn’t find an ID on you,”
“Can you get the IV out of me?” He asked right out the gate.
“It was there since you were vomiting up river water for a good while before fainting, so I’d like to keep it in until someone else can monitor you. Is that alright?”
“Not like I have a choice,” Alfred huffed. He could already feel his brain start to go fuzzy without Matt distracting him and his breathing pick up.
“Are you scared of needles? I can put an extra bandage around it so you can’t see it while we talk,”
“No it’s — “ he stopped to try to take in a breath. This was the worst time to have a panic attack. She could put something else in while he wasn’t paying full attention. Matt was there, maybe? Or maybe he already freaked out and left. And he was alone with a doctor again, “Just that — “ His eyes started darting around the room, looking for an exit. There was a door behind the doctor but no windows. He could burst through the wall unless they already paralyzed him. Could he still move his legs? She was leaning in closer and closer, she was going to slip something in and he’s too frozen to stop her, he’s going to get dosed again or waterboarded again or shocked again or assau —
There was a distinct emptiness in his arm that wasn’t there before, and moments later his body healed to fill the gap.
“Wow, you heal fast, you must be young. Wish I could still do that,” The doctor said. She was standing in the corner, as far away from him as the room would allow, “Bad experiences in the past?”
“Yeah,” Alfred choked out. She was still in the room, but the IV was out and she was far away. He could move everything still. He could get to the door if needed. He pulled away his glasses and rubbed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. He felt invisible fingers rub his arm and gave a sigh of relief; his brother was still here somehow.
“The EMTs did most of the work stabilizing you, I’m just doing another check in. Do you have any medical history that should be relevant to what happened, mental or physical?”
“Not that I know of. And uh…Alfred. Is my name,” He managed to get out.
“Hello Alfred, thank you for telling me that. When was the last time you had something to eat or drink?”
“The river water probably for the drink,” Dr. Collins didn’t laugh, “And the last thing to eat was…a week ago maybe? I had some leftover hot dogs,” That made her look up from her chart.
“Sorry, you said a week? Is that correct? As in, seven days ago?”
“No, ha, just a joke! I’m kidding!” Alfred corrected, “I had uh, food? At a normal dinner time before this,”
“And what did you eat?”
“A bagel…” Fuck, he really was falling apart. Matt was definitely gonna snitch to Ivan about that, he could already be texting him now.
“Is there a particular reason you were by the Potomac around that time of night? What led up to you falling in?”
“It was…” He trailed off. He did deliberately wade into the water without proper gear and liked it. The feeling of peace before he was swept away was unlike anything he had experienced for the better part of a year, “It was just a stupid dare. Teenage shenanigans, y’know. They were upstream, but one of them saw the ambulance and are coming to get me,” That sounded convincing, right?
“Last question; am I able to get closer to you to check you over?” Alfred tensed, but didn’t feel the familiar panic. He nodded and she carefully walked forward with some instruments. He stayed completely still while she worked and deflated the instant she was out of his space.
“I’ll go write up a recovery plan and instructions on what to look for. You can stay here until the people you were with come by to take you home. Have a good recovery!” Dr. Collins walked out after that. Once the door closed, Matt revealed himself and he looked pissed.
“A god damn week? Are you out of your mind?” He said, keeping his voice low.
“Clearly, yeah. I walked into a fuckin’ river with my own two feet. If I hadn’t gotten the hoodie wet and breathed through it I would’ve just taken a nice swim,”
“In the dead of night? Really? Fucking hell, Alfred, why didn’t you tell someone, anyone? I know your phone broke but it didn't have to get to this point,”
“Yeah, no shit. It’s just stupid that I broke down. I should be better, there’s no reason for this. I’m a Nation, I’m — “ his breath started coming up short again. It was so…frustrating that he couldn’t handle something as simple like this. Shutdowns have happened before, why was this one so much worse?
“…Did you relapse at all?” Matt asked.
“I’m not a drug addict,”
“I’m asking if you hurt yourself again,” Lie. The small crescent moon indents from his fingernails would be healed by now and the splinters are out. Lie. Lie lie lie lie lie —
“I did,” You fucking moron, “Just a bit! Not big scratches or anything. It’s healed already so it’s fine. I stopped it,”
“But why?”
“I dunno man, why do you have depression? It’s not hurting anyone so it doesn’t matter,”
“You’re someone,” Matthew’s face was twisted with distress and Alfred had to keep deflecting before he fell into a pit of shame deeper than the Grand Canyon.
“It’s not hurting me, though. It’s like a pressure release, it feels good…just about one of the few things that does these days. Besides sex, but it’s a close call,” The look on his face was now complete terror, “See, this is why I hate talking about it,”
“…Please don’t become like me,” Matthew whispered, “You don't know the half of what I’ve done to myself but don’t follow my footsteps. Do you know how hard it is to get out of the hole you’re digging?”
“It would be nice if I could have any chance of getting out of it without my government piling more dirt on top of me,”
Matthew’s eyes got an extra sparkle all of a sudden and a wide grin spread across his face. This couldn’t be good.
“Y’know what? I’m glad your phone is broken; because now we’re gonna force you to go without it and relax for the next month,” he said.
What.
“Uh, no. I need to get back to work,”
“You’re not even being paid right now. You’re supposed to be furloughed and staying home,”
“And who’s this ‘we’ you're talking about?”
“Oh, just me and Ivan and your closest allies,”
“Dude, keep up. No one outside you two like me anymore,”
“Can you prove it?” Before Alfred could open his mouth to answer, Matt charged forward, “No? Cool,”
“You’re a stubborn asshole,”
“Check yourself before you shrek yourself as the kids say,”
“No one fucking says that — “
“Oh wow, Ivan’s here!” Matt got up and started heading out. Alfred whipped out his arm and grabbed him, probably bruising brother with the force behind it.
“Stay. Just…just until I can get eyes on him,” He felt weak asking for it, but being left alone in here was a nightmare. Matt had long range, he had short range; together they could take anything the hospital staff threw at them. He couldn’t do it alone.
“Alright, I guess. But as soon as he’s in the same room I’m running out to the car,”
A nurse arrive shortly after with his clothes and the recovery plan and he was rushing down the hall to get out. Thankfully no one noticed he had two different footsteps as he barreled into Ivan. The hug felt like the sun compared to the icy water and he felt himself breathe for the first time that night. Not the forced slow breathing from the water, but actually relax…which was probably why Ivan asked for him to call if he was feeling like shit.
“How was your little swim?” Ivan asked. Behind him, the automatic doors opened as Matthew left.
“Nice until your hoodie fell over my mouth and I waterboarded myself. Took a wonderful trip down MKUltra memory lane,” He drifted over to the checkout counter holding Ivan’s hand like a lifeline.
“Do you have any sort of ID on you?” The ER clerk asked.
“I don’t, sorry,” he handed him a piece of paper and Alfred got to work filling out his information. Fuck, he was gonna have a medical bill to pay after all this too, “I’d like an itemized bill once you send it to me,”
“Will do, thank you. I’ll get this filed and you should hear from us in a few days,”
The car was silent as the two climbed in. His brother was already in shotgun, so he sat in the back and the entire way back to his house he felt their eyes constantly flicking over to him. The hoodie was probably ruined from the pollution in the river and Alfred curled in on himself, still shivering.
Ivan turned on the light once they entered the house and the full evidence for Alfred’s living state was in plain sight. Seeing his living space with others really put it all in perspective. There were stacks and stacks of paper everywhere, a dozen different uniforms thrown around as he filled in where he could, empty coffee mugs on every flat surface, and dead in the center was a crack in the hardwood floor of the kitchen and the remnants of the broken phone in it. Maybe the river was a better than facing whatever this was. There was no where to go that didn’t remind him of everything he was struggling to do.
“I can tackle some of down here if you want to get cleaned up,” Matthew said as he laid down his weapons.
“Oh — uh. It’s not a big deal. I’ll take care of it,” Alfred tried. He would…eventually. Matt’s house honestly didn’t look too much better from the last time he visited.
“It’s easier when it’s not my own shit; go,” he opened his mouth to respond but stopped when Ivan gently grabbed his arm and started leading him upstairs. His bedroom honestly wasn’t too much better compared to downstairs. His laundry was piled up in the corner, the sheets at the foot of the bed after kicking them from nightmares night after night, there were plates of half-eaten rotten food scattered across the place, and he had to step over piles of shoes he kicked off to get to the bathroom. Which also wasn’t —
“Stop looking at it,” Ivan said, turning on the water, “Strip down; we will fix it afterward,” Alfred nodded and left the clothes in another pile to join the others and the towels. The water was already starting to steam and Ivan grabbed the shower chair. Alfred spent no time sitting down and couldn’t help but loosen his shoulders in the heat. He checked out once Ivan’s hands were in his hair and let him do whatever after that. Shutdown always stressed him out, so why was this one different? Maybe it was the lay-offs they were threatening this time besides whatever damage fuckin’ DOGE had done. Or maybe the general abundance of ill-will and bad blood between the two sides instead of the typical cooperation. Or the statements coming from his administration in the meantime designating anti-fascism as a terrorist organization (which, as someone who literally fought fascists, how dare he) and lead figures giving speeches on removing woke from the military or that the president had plenary authority. Or the destruction of the East Wing of the White House. Or food banks supporting federal workers and those missing SNAP and WIC starting to buckle. Or —
He blinked and saw that he was out of the shower and Ivan had damp towel in his hands. Was he done already? He leaned forward and rested his head on Ivan’s shoulder, giving a sigh pure exhaustion.
“It’ll be over soon,” Ivan said.
“You don’t know that,”
“…You will get through it eventually. Maybe not the same Nation, but you will survive as always,”
“I know, just…” Ivan picked him up and brought him to the bed. It felt more comfortable than it had for the past few weeks, “Are you angry that I didn’t call you? I can’t tell,”
“I wished you would have, but I’m still happy I didn’t walk into a crime scene amount of blood. Good job,” His heart trilled with the praise as he cuddled closer to Ivan, and hoped he would finally sleep well tonight.
He just had to take it day by day, but maybe a break wouldn’t be too bad.
Matthew may have lied when he said he could handle cleaning. Every area had some sort of mess, so he pulled out a random number generator and let it pick where to start. It chose the living room first, so he layered the uniforms on top of each other and folded the blankets into the basket in the corner. It looked like Alfred had been passing out on the couch for at least a few days, if he was sleeping at all. He skipped the deep clean of the room with a vacuum because that’s a line he wouldn’t cross even for his brother and turned to the kitchen —
Ah. There’s what Alfred described as ‘out of commission’. God damn. There’s a difference between breaking your phone and turning it into literal dust.
There was a pile of what almost looked like glitter in a crater of broken wood near the kitchen. Matthew grabbed a broom from the pantry and was sweeping it up just as Ivan came back downstairs.
“Hey, look what’s left of his phone,” He motioned Ivan over and showed him the shining dustpan.
“I can see why he didn’t call me,” Ivan said and sat down at the kitchen island, “I don’t know how I missed all this,”
“Not your fault, man. You can’t read his mind; it’s up to him to talk,”
“I know, just…he walked into a river,”
“I’m well aware. I feel like most of us have dealt with that sort of think at some point or another. At least, that’s what I tell myself,” The old scars along his arms started to itch and he saw Ivan’s hand go up to his neck.
“I just don’t know why it’s so bad. The worst that will happen is that he’ll become like my government. It’s okay once you get used to it,” Ivan said.
“Neither of you should have to get used to authoritarians,”
“You think I like this? I’ve had one election in all of my history and then it all went to shit,”
“I’m not saying that. I just — looking at both of you from the outside sucks. Also, going back to my brother, he said he hadn’t eaten in a week,”
“I’m not surprised,” Ivan put his head in his hands. He’s gotten to know Ivan a lot better since Alfred broke the ice for them in ‘91, but it was still strange seeing one of the most powerful Nations on the planet crumble in front of him.
“Hey, you’re not alone in this,” Matthew threw away the rest of the ‘phone’, “I care about him, and I can probably wrangle some of his other friends to help. I’m planning on making him just chill out until the end of the shutdown and relax. We’ll figure it out, okay?”
“…And if we don’t then I’ll break your spine,” There he is.
“Whatever floats your boat,”