"Please… don't go…"

Rebecca sighed, turning her head to face her father. She smiled, despite the fact that she had been bedridden for several weeks now, and took his hand. She squeezed it weakly, and he squeezed back with three times as much force, although he didn't hurt her while doing so, thank goodness.

Each breath hurt, though. Her sight was slightly blurry, and Rebecca had to blink several times to get rid of the black that was creeping up in the edges of her vision.

Her father's face blinked in and out of her vision, but Rebecca could perfectly imagine the creases of worry across his brow, and the tears that were quickly building up in his eyes. She didn't like it when he cried, and couldn't really understand why he was doing so now. They had known ever since she had been occupied by him that it would only be a matter of time before she was formally dissolved. Rebecca herself had cried at first, but now she felt only peace.

So why couldn't her father? She didn't want her last memory of him to be him crying over her bedside.

"Don't cry, Pa," she forced the words past her lips, them rasping painfully on her tongue. "I'm happy. Don't worry."

"No. No, I can't let you go. I'll call Fillmore! I never should have let him go through with this. I've already lost Gaho and Thomas and Feli and… and…" his voice dissolved into sobs, and Rebecca squeezed his hand again. She didn't know who 'Feli' was. She didn't think it important enough to ask.

"Pa, I'm going to be a part of you. It's all I've ever wanted."

"That's what they all said!"

"Pa. My people are going to be much happier under you than…" she paused, her strength beginning to fade. "...Me. I want this."

"I love you, baby," was her father's only response. He bent over, cradling her head. "28 years, 'Becca. That's how long I've had you. You grew up so fast, I could barely keep up."

"Runs in the genes, I suppose," Rebecca chuckled loosely.

"This is so unfair. I haven't had you for nearly long enough, and you're already leaving this Earth. I promise to remember you, but when I think of all these years you could've had ahead of you…"

"Those years were never going to happen, Pa. I was promised to you from the moment I was old enough to walk and we both know it."

"It's unfair."

Her father seemed even more far away now. Rebecca wanted to get closer, to hear him better, but something was dragging her down, down, down.

"Promise me." She forced her lips to move, for breath to pass through them. "You gotta stay happy. It's makes everything better, ya know. So stay… stay happy. For me and Thomas and Joseph."

"I promise, California. On my name as the United States of America and by God's name, I promise."

Rebecca's lips twitched upwards, and she let herself relax into Alfred's arms. Her life was so odd, she reflected with a laugh. She was 28 years old, looked sixteen, had a father who looked nineteen, and was currently dying.

But she was happy. With her father to remember her and her brother, to protect her people after she was gone, she was truly happy.

And finally, the darkness overwhelmed her, and Rebecca could no longer breathe; no part her body seemed to want to obey her. A momentary flare of panic rushed through the teenager before fading into peace again. Happy. She was happy.

Then Rebecca Jones, representative of the late Republic of California, knew no more.

And suddenly, Rebecca's eyes flew open, and she gasped for air. Her hands flew to her chest as she coughed and hacked, blinking reflexive tears out of her eyes. She felt as if she hadn't moved for decades, her muscles protesting and joints popping as her arms moved. It was both painful and liberating at the same time, an odd sensation she couldn't even begin to fathom.

After a couple minutes, her coughing finally subsided slightly, and she blinked her eyes open before shutting them again to shield herself from the blinding light around her. She waited a moment, then cracked the lids open, little by little and adjusting her pupils to the light. Then, she looked around to take in her surroundings.

It was a bright, sunny day. There were trees all around her, and a fence some feet away. Rebecca was lying face-up on the dirt ground, so she forced herself into a sitting position with a groan, bones cracking as her spine snapped back into place. She looked down, and noted that she was still wearing the dress she had worn the day she'd died, a white, loose dress, with no shoes or socks. Her hands flew up reflexively to her hair, and instantly she was greeted with her smooth, curly brown hair.

"Am I dead?" She murmured, looking around, half expecting to see her father and their house around her instead of this strange place. She certainly didn't feel dead. Instinctually, she found herself reaching out to her people.

And suddenly there was a force so strong it knocked the breath out of her. Momentarily, Rebecca couldn't breathe from feeling so many people inside of her head, all shining lights, so bright that she could barely think. With a low cry, she forced herself back into her own body with a shiver.

What was that? So many people… Rebecca had never felt so many in her life; she could barely comprehend it. Millions. Millions and millions of people. Hundreds of millions! Billions! She didn't understand. She only had 92,000 citizens, and even with all of the gold that people were trying to find on her land, she knew that there could never be so many people who belonged to her. It was maddening, and she could barely hold back them back from overwhelming her now.

"Hey, lady. Why are you on the ground?"

Rebecca blinked, turning around to see a girl, around ten years old or so, come into view, looking confused. She had dirty blond hair that fell around her shoulders, and more shockingly of all was wearing men's clothing, of all things! Pants and all!

"Why are you looking at me like that?" The girl asked after a moment, crossing her arms as Rebecca stared at her with wide eyes. "Why are you dressed so weird?"

Why are you dressed so weird? Rebecca almost asked the question, but another one, much better to ask, popped into her mind.

"Excuse me," she asked, voice scratching in her throat from lack of use. "Where am I?"

The child gave her a strange look. "You're in Walnut Creek, stupid, at the park. Right east of San Francisco. Where else?"

Walnut Creek? She had never heard of such a place, and she knew every city and town in her land, just as she knew exactly where San Francisco was. What was going on?

"What… what day is it?" She asked. "I've forgotten." Please be September 9th, 1850. Please be September 9th, 1850.

"July 4th, 2018. Are you dumb or something?"

2018

2018.

Two thousand and eighteen.

"I'm alright," she whispered, though she was feeling as if she had been punched in the chest. "I'm alright. You can go."

"Good to know," the girl shrugged. She pivoted on her heel and turned back the way she came, disappearing into the trees. Rebecca didn't watch her leave, instead digging her fingers into the dusty, dry dirt she knew all too well, taking comfort that it was still the same, at least.

168 years. She had been dead? in a coma? sleeping? for 168 years. If the girl was right. But Rebecca knew she was. Somehow, she just knew, like she did when talking to any of her citizens.

"Pa? Where are you?" She asked herself. Just moments ago, she had been in his arms, but that couldn't be right. It had been 168 years. He had most likely left their house over a century ago.

But that brought up a very important question.

Why was she suddenly alive again?

There were so many people digging at the edges of her consciousness, she could hardly ignore them. Finally, she dove back into the billions of souls that she now represented, letting them wash over her like a tsunami. She buckled under the weight of it, struggling to keep her consciousness in this sea of people, but she forced herself to focus on who everyone she was feeling belonged to.

Of course, it was most likely her, since she was feeling them. But it never hurt to be safe.

Italian. Russian. Ethiopian. Colombian. Japanese. Vietnamese. Thai. Indian. Danish. English. They all ran over her head, different in body type, ethnicity, and culture. And yet, there was something there that connected them, something extremely strong. She focused on this overarching theme through her people, and came out with one word.

American.

American. America. These were her Pa's people!

Her eyes widened with shock and she tore herself out of the sea of people in shock. Why was she feeling her Pa's country? That would never happen, unless…

Unless…

No. Nononononononononono.

But she couldn't deny it. It all clicked into place and she couldn't deny that it was true.

And Rebecca Jones, former representative of the Republic of California and the current representative of the United States of America, collapsed into herself and sobbed.

Well… that just happened. Yes, I know that chapters one and two are very different (and yes, I know that chapter 2 is worse). I guess I'll explain the thought processes behind both parts of the story now.

The Whole Story:

Present tense vs past tense: I don't usually write in present tense (it's weird and awkward for me) but I found myself writing first person during Alfred's portion of the story. Why? It's simple: Alfred is living in the last days before his death. Why would the story be in past tense when he won't be around to talk about it afterwards? That's why Rebecca and Matthew's segments are written in past tense: they live through their story. If that makes any sense.

First person vs third person: Pretty much the same reasoning as above. What you're seeing in Alfred's segment is occuring as you read it, while Matthew and Rebecca's parts are occurring as reflections. Crap I suck at explaining things like this.

Alfred's Segment:

The Three Boys: These are all past versions of Alfred, during the three (main) occasions he contemplated suicide during his life. Every time, however, he convinces himself not to jump (for he always knew that if he was going to die it would be in that fashion; he always loved flying) due to the reasons the present Alfred gives them. Of course, these three boys don't actually exist in the present. They're figments of Alfred's imagination as he recalls the times he wanted to jump before.

The Small Boy: Post-Revolution America, taking place in the years between his independence (1783) and the ratification of the Constitution (1789). Maybe it's a surprising choice for some of you readers, but think about it. Alfred has just become independent, yes, but he's lost a lot. Family? He has none, Canada and England disowned him when he revolted. Friends? None. Remember that the real reason France supported him was to weaken England, and Prussia had the same motives. His country was falling apart thanks to the weakness of the Bill of Rights and no one seemed to care. And he was only a kid; by this point in time, Alfred has been relatively sheltered by Britain. The shock of war and the sudden pressure to survive on your own is a bit much for any teenager.

The Boy in Glasses: This may also be a bit of a surprise when I tell you that this takes place over a wider span of time, during 1930s and 1940s. Sure, this was the period of time when America became a superpower, but that also means a lot of sudden responsibility. When the stock market crashed in 1929, imagine the crushing guilt he would've felt for 'initiating' a global depression, especially one that hit him and his own brother extremely hard. And WW2? Pearl Harbor, the nukes, and the Holocaust. Afterwards, he would want to work hard to try and rectify his mistakes, but by now the world was beginning to turn on him and were beginning to become resentful of him and his power. 'Nuff said about that.

The Boy in the Bomber Jacket: This takes place a lot closer to the present, during the 2016 elections and basically the entire year of 2017, when Alfred really fell apart. The whole world seems to hate him, his own people are tearing each other apart, and he feels he has no one to turn to. At least during the 1930s and 40s, he had his own people to rely and trust on, but now even they have seemed to have abandoned him. His country has never been so divided before, save for during the civil war (but even then it was only the South who wanted to secede. Now both sides seem to hate him). And it's crucial to remember that Alfred, for a nation, is young and emotionally fragile. At this point, he can't convince himself not to jump. It's only habit not to. Until one July day, in the year 2018…

The Storm: The Civil War and the later reconstruction of the country.

Murky Blue Eyes: Just to poke at the similarities between Alfred and the Boy in the Bomber Jacket, and their lost will to live.

The Bandages: Side effects of having such a divided people. Terrorism and violent riots in his own country (such as the Orlando and Las Vegas shootings) have been having an adverse effect on his own body, injuring it.

California's Segment:

Why do California and Texas Exist?: Easy, they were countries, so they would've been around for at least a little bit. Texas was a country until 1946, when he agreed to join the union. Then he passed on his trademark pair of glasses (hence why he calls them Texas) to his 'father', America, and died peacefully. His name was Thomas Jones. California's story was the same, except much quicker: She was only a country for around a month and a half after gaining independence.

Why did California Revive?: Well, someone had to represent the USA. Alfred had, to put it bluntly and crudely, quit his job. He doesn't want to revive, doesn't want to go back to the life he was living. Thus, nature turned to the next most suitable candidate to represent the USA: California.

Why Not Texas?: Well, California was the last country to be annexed by America (not counting Hawaii, but that's a whole different story. Her representative was never really affiliated with Alfred). California's former country is also one of the most influential states in the union today.

Why did California Revive in a Place Like Walnut Creek?: Why not? Places like Walnut Creek are small cities (not too big, not too small) that make up what I believe to be the true spirit of America. Why Walnut Creek exactly? Well, the place caught my attention while I surfed Google Maps. It seemed like a quaint little town, so I chose it. The reason Rebecca doesn't know about Walnut Creek is because it was incorporated into the state around the year 1914.

Well… I guess that's it. Um… I hope you liked this short story. The second chapter was more of a plot bunny, so if anyone wants to write a story about Rebecca becoming the USA or something, please PM me, because it'd certainly be something I'd read.

Anyways, I'll see you all some other time, I suppose. I guess I'll check this for typos later, so if you find any, please let me know.