2017

Elizabeth fluttered her eyes open, delirious. Where was she? She assessed her surroundings. A worn out mattress with springs poking into her spine and legs beneath her, flickering subway lights above, broken glass surrounding the floor. It looked like everything around her had exploded. 

Exploded. Yes, that's exactly how the world ended. It went out with a bang not a whisper. It was a war. Of course it was a war, it was always a fucking war. She ground her teeth together. The memories made her as mad as they had when it had been happening. America, England, and South Korea were allied against Russia, China, and North Korea. If she closed her eyes, she could still see the blinding flash. Nothing stopped her from hearing the anguished screams of people. 

New York sat up and gasped. She lifted up her shirt and saw flesh blood from the burns and cuts across her abdomen. Even old scars had appeared to reopen. "Shit," She hissed. There were no more bandages around. She'd have to go above ground for more. While she was at it, she would forage for anything else she could bring to her people down here. 

She could do that later. She had a daily ritual she had to keep up, it was the only thing keeping her sane. The New Yorker grabbed the ratty old journal she'd decided to use as a diary and, with the pen with another person's bite marks all over, began writing. 

'Date unknown, 2017

    Miraculously, there's enough power for me to charge my old Nokia from decades ago. It still receives texts. California, the lucky bitch, knew it was coming and got underground with her iPhone in time. She got back to me late last night and confirmed she was still alive. She has no idea about any of the others and plans to look for Nevada, Oregon, and Washington soon. I've tried so hard to get to my brothers. Connecticut and New Jersey haven't sent me a word. I'm so afraid for them. Did my city kill them? Is it my fault that they could be gone? It's not fair. I've always been the walking target - not them! They deserve to live. I love them. I never say it, but I do. God, Yahweh, Zeus, Buddah, anyone who's out there. Please look out for them, not me. 
    Massachusetts is...I don't know. I don't want to know.

    Confirmed dead: Pennsylvania, Florida
    Known living: Me, California, Alaska, Hawaii
    Assumed dead: All the rest'

She closed the book and began to braid her hair, yanking the knots out as she went. Her mind drifted off into a myriad of questions. She wondered if Alfred was still around. She imagined he had to be, what with some states not even being hit. She thought of her father, all the way in the Netherlands. For the first time in centuries, her heart yearned to see him. She wanted her vader to hold her and protect her from this world. She wanted to be a child again, the days when he was her go to and he could stop any problem with a wave of his hand.

More than any of that she wanted him to still be alive. If he wasn't, she hoped to see him again soon. 

Wiping stray tears off her face, Elizabeth grabbed her bag. It was necessary for these types of missions if she wanted to bring as much back to camp as she could. She sighed. Her descent into Hell was inevitable, yet she still wished it didn't have to be her.

Going through the rubble was depressing. She had managed to stay in Brooklyn and it's part of the subways. While seeing the destroyed Brooklyn Bridge always chocked her up, it was easier than looking at any of her other monuments. She wanted to believe she could stay there forever, but she had gone through every part of the borough and ventured into Long Island until she reached the Atlantic - which now wasn't far at all. Elizabeth had to suck it up and take one of the sailboats that was still standing across to Manhattan. 

There was nothing standing. She stumbled around, blindly searching through the rubble. This was worse than what she had witnessed in 2001. Bodies were mangled with their possessions. Some were still clutching the valuables she needed. Elizabeth frantically tried to stay away from the site of One World Trade Center, but her subconscious pulled her there. All that remained was the tower. She looked out into the Harbor and saw half a Lady Liberty. Ellis Island was engulfed below the Hudson. 

She quickly went through the Lower Manhattan area. She ignored the golden 'R' from Trump Towers. She looked away at where the Chrysler Building was supposed to stand. She chose not to see a demolish Empire State Building. Elizabeth imagined she could hear all the sounds the city used to have. She heard the ringing of the bell on Wall St. She heard the honk of horns. She heard the lines of people chattering excitedly, waiting to see something on Broadway. She heard the Hamilton pleading for her to adopt the Constitution while Washington stared her down disapprovingly. 

Elizabeth stopped. The world was spinning now. She felt the warm embrace of flames during the Great Fire. She felt the despair as the reality of Black Friday hit. She smelt the smoke of a freshly fired gun from when she fought in the Revolution, no the War of 1812, no it was actually her first mob hit! The pavement below her felt unsteady. Every time she blinked she was was in a new decade, a new century. She was reliving all of her five hundred years in agony. 

"I have to sit down."

She staggered down the street to the one place that hadn't changed in all these years. New York slumped down in front of what was left of the wall of her apartment building. She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. No matter what she did, her heartbeat refused to lower. She slipped a hand under her shirt and felt something sticky. "Fuck."

This, she decided, is how she would die. Hallucinating, seeing ghosts of the past, and afraid. This is never how she imagined it. She wanted to go out loved, respected. She wanted to feel like she had done something in the world, created her own empire within a global empire. Instead, she was nothing. She was collateral damage in a game of war between four overgrown children. She cried for herself now. She cried for what she wanted to be, but only had for a moment. She cried for what she could've been. 

"Damn, I thought you were Lizzie, but the one I know doesn't cry."

That voice. So obnoxious, so nasal, so similar to hers. She snapped her head up and grinned. "Jersey! You're alive!" Even looking at him, she couldn't register that the male in front of her had blond hair, not brown. That he was Massachusetts wearing a gas mask around his neck. 

He frowned. "Yeah I'm alive, but I ain't your brother." He took her head in one his hands and tilted it up to look him in the eyes. "It's me. Everyone's favorite Masshole. You know, park the car in Harvard Yard?" He exaggerated his accent so it would get through to her. Alex silently berated himself. He was later than he thought. 

Whatever hope she had was gone instantly, she turned to look away from him. Reality was slowly coming back to her. "Oh. It's you. Go away. Death is a private thing." 

As she spoke, he was wrapping up her wounds. He frowned when he saw ones from the Revolution freely bleeding now. He couldn't show her his pessimism at the situation though. He had to make her believe. Alexander did what he did best, he forced a smile. "You're not gonna die. I'm your angel. See! I'm fixing you up just like any heavenly one would. Call me Saint Alexander, patron saint of the fuck-ups." 

Elizabeth tried to laugh, but it hurt too much. She smiled though and that was good enough for him. "Why'd you come? You should be looking after everyone in New England. You got hit too. It should've effected you more, you're smaller than me."

"Ah, but Boston is less dense. Besides, we didn't lose anyone due to evacuation. Philadelphia being hit than you gave us plenty of time to get a lot of people out into Canada. New Englanders, just like roaches, can't be killed by radioactive warfare." He smirked and propped her up so she wasn't slouching. "Do you want me to carry you up to your floor?"

"Very funny. You didn't answer my real question."

He let go of his mask of optimism and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "I was worried, alright? I wanted to see how you were. I care about you and I-" He shakes his head. "Look at how I found you! You were a mess. Shit Lizzie, you are a mess! Can you blame me for being concerned? I had to see you. I wanted to make sure you'd be fine."

Elizabeth looked at him for a very long time. She was speechless. She had expected so many different things to come out of his mouth, but never this. She opened her mouth to speak before closing it again. Instead, she leaned against him and buried her head in his shoulder. "You said everyone in New England was okay."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Connecticut remains as alive as he ever was." 

"Darian," A weak sob escaped her lips. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, true joy began to spread out through her. One brother survived for certain. Oh! The two of them could look for Brian together and everything would be back to normal because all three of them would make it. 

The sharpest pain Elizabeth had ever known went shooting through her. She cried out and Alexander held on tight to her. He checked her bandages and cursed under his breath. Blood was beginning to soak through them. She wouldn't make it. He should've known she wouldn't have made it. The whole state got bombed from Montauk to Albany. 

"Colonel," Her voice was weak and her eyes glassed over. He hadn't realized she was talking to him until he remembered everyone else was dead. "Massachusetts, there's no one around right? I can call you that?"

He smiled sadly as tears filled up his eyes. He remembered this conversation. He remembered how horribly it had gone while they were in the midst of the Battle of Monmouth. He had come to lend his patriotic expertise and she resented him for it. Massachusetts rested her head in his lap. "Yes, New York. You can call me anything. There's no one else around for miles." 

"I've never been shot before. Is my leg, is it going to be fine? I won't need it removed?" Her voice trembled and her hands reached around for an imaginary leg wound. 

"It's healed already. Us states, we don't get hurt like humans. See?" He lifted his shirt up and showed her a collection of scars that had grown through the years. Regardless, she only saw the one that he'd received from the Boston Massacre. He shivered at her touch. "They all turn into scars or disappear right away. Yours? It was a pretty horrible battle so that bullet wound is going to stick around." He thought of how often he saw her legs in the centuries to come. His words rang true. She never lost the circular scar on her upper thigh. Subconsciously, he caressed the spot where it was.

Thankfully, Elizabeth didn't notice. "Why'd you save me?" 

It came to him why this memory, out of the millions they had between them, was the one her mind decided to play for her. It was a second chance. Massachusetts got a second chance to change 'I don't let states die on my hands' to what he had meant the whole time. The tears started to silently fall. "I love you, that's why. I know it doesn't seem like it with how upset I get over our ideological disputes, but you intrigue me. You're not like the Puritan girls in my state or the religious enthusiasts throughout New England. You accept all ideas, believing each one to have some truth. I should treat you better, I'm aware, but you're the first person I've been in love with." He looks down at her. Her eyes were a little less empty. It didn't feel like he was speaking to a ghost anymore, but to her. "I don't expect you to feel the same." 

She was halfway between here and her hallucinations. "I don't know what to think. I can see you with me in the future though. After the fightings over." 

Massachusetts laughed. He sounded slightly unhinged and resisted the urge to slap her. His hyena cackling brought her back fully to the present and she watched him intently. "The fighting never ends, Elizabeth! You've wasted your whole life pushing me away and I'm going to waste the rest of mine living in a fantasy. We've done it. We've finally done. We've destroyed each other." He looks back down at her to find that she was crying as well. "We don't have a future together. We had one and we threw it away and for what? To save face? We fucked up Lizzie, we fucked up." 

In a swift motion he was holding her as close as he could. He didn't care if he was kissing the lips of a dead girl walking as long as it was her. Her lips were chapped and they both tasted salty tears, but the relief was worth it. He reluctantly pulled away from her when he noticed how labored her breathing had begun. 

She traced a shaky thumb across his jawline. "Look after my brothers, please," She whispered. New York looked so tired. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to catch up on all the hours of sleep she'd wasted on work, partying, and wandering her state. She kissed him once, softly. "Alex, I think I might love you. Now please, let me rest." 

She closed her eyes and her breathing ceased. Massachusetts looked around at the sad state of the city she had loved so much, her ruined heart. He rummaged through the rubble of her apartment and took what possessions of hers hadn't been destroyed in both his bag and hers.

He walked the long road back to Lower Manhattan with her over his shoulder. Along the way, he picked up pieces of her home. He grabbed the golden 'R', a chunk from the Brooklyn bridge, some metal from the Statue of Liberty, and the towers of the Empire State Building, Chrysler Building, and One World Trade Center.

He laid her down in the boat she had docked, fixing her hair and clothes to make her look as close to his memory as he could. He surrounded her with the landmarks he'd picked up. It was almost perfect. He ran to the waterfall memorial with a pencil and scrap of paper in hand. He made it so two first names were engraved together.

Alexander placed the paper reading 'Elizabeth Alexander' in her hands and kissed her forehead. "Now we'll always be together." He took one last long and loving look at her before pushing her off to see. He turned his back on the Hudson, headed for New Jersey, and tried to ignore the sound of his sobs. 
---
Fifty years later

The rebuilding of the nations was a long process. It didn't take long for the midwest and south to be cleaned up, but it took longer for the big cities on both the coasts to get excavation crews ready to tackle the challenge, along with the fact that the radiation had finally gone away. 

After working their way up the eastern seaboard, the challenge at hand was the entirety of New York state. California, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and New Jersey had been the only ones to volunteer to go in with the crews there. There weren't too many of the remaining states that were fond of the idea of going through such a polarizing representation's stuff. 

As usual, Connecticut and New Jersey had dedicated most of the time to bickering over what their sister would've wanted to be done with anything - from a statue to a weed, it was all fair game. Massachusetts, knee deep in a church from the eighteen hundreds was sick of it. 

"Please, for the love of all that is holy, shut the fuck up!" Alexander snapped. Brian and Darian had been arguing. "You two are wicked annoying, Christ! Make a list of the stuff you actually care about, carry it home, and fight over it later. Me and Cali don't care about your family drama." 

Brian sneered. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Lizzie two-point-oh?"

Darian sighed and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "He's got a point. This is emotionally taxing for all of us. She wouldn't want us to fight this much. Take what you want and give me what you don't. We'll establish the buildings in the same format as before, but sturdier." He smiled at Alex. "See, we're all good."

Brian grumbled, but made no disagreements. The three of them continued to work in peaceful silence. It took them five minutes to stop and realize California was staring at something. "Um, you guys, like, didn't they say nothing lived here?" She pointed at a building that still had half of it. "Cause, like, look." 

The three men turned and gasped. Thirteen birds were watching them, all a different kind. One bird, an eastern bluebird, flew amongst them all and twittered happily. It sat on Brian's shoulder and chirped in his ear. He began to cry. 

Darian understood instantaneously and hugged his brother. The bird rubbed up against both of them before flying into the palms of Massachusetts' hands. He stared down at it in shock as the bird tweeted and chirped and danced around, showing itself off to him. Finally, he cracked a bittersweet smile.

"Good to have you back, Lizzie."