Rebellion

Hands That Built America

^^Connor. (Not really but this is the guy who I based him on.)

Hands That Built America

​He was eight years old when he was rushed to the hospital with his mother and father. He wasn't sure what exactly was going on but it made him worry. He sat in the waiting room while his parents went back into a different room. He sat alone. Some of the receptionists told him that everything was going to be fine. They gave him books to read and some paper and crayons. It was going to be a while. It was a long time, a very long time in his eight year old mind before his dad came out of the back room and smiled at him.

​"Connor, come here," he said. He hopped off the chair and hurried to his father. He walked with him back to a room and saw his mom laying in bed.

​"Is she okay?"

​"She's fine. Would ye like to meet yer new little brother?"

​He was quite confused at first but then he was handed a little bundle of blankets. So this was what the emergency had been. He smiled slightly.

​"What's his name?"

​"Paul," his dad said, "You'll have to be good to him."

​"I will," Connor grinned. This was just the beginning of it all.

<><><><><><><>

​Being an older brother was one of his favorite things. He loved his little brother more than anything in the world even though they had a pretty big age gap between them. But things started going downhill once he was fifteen. His brother was only seven.

​"Hey Paul."

​"Connor!"

​He grinned. He was heading down the street to hang out with one of his friends when his little brother ran out of the house and grabbed onto him. Paul wasn't fond of the times when he was out.

​"I'm just going down to hang out with Murphy. Ye know him right? He's a good guy. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

​His brother glared at him, "Ye promised ye would play with me."

​Connor took his brother's shoulders and knelt in front of him, "I will. When I get home. I promise."
​
​"Okay," his brother blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes, "I think I'm gonna go back in."

​"Alright."

​He never should've left that day. When he came home, his parents were shouting at each other and his brother was nowhere to be seen. He swallowed and slipped past them and then hurried up the steps.

​"C-Connor?"

​"Paul," he hissed, "Where are ye?"

​His brother crawled out from under the bed and brushed a hand through his brown hair. Connor knelt next to him.
​
​"What's going on?"

​"Ma lost her job and Da ain't making lots of money. I got scared so I ran up here."

​"It's fine," Connor sighed, "It's nothing to worry about."

<><><><><><><><>

​But it was. Especially once his brother had to be taken to the hospital a few weeks later because he couldn't see. Connor was sitting in the waiting room while he heard his parents talking quietly. They were frustrated. It wasn't like it was Paul's fault that he had something wrong with him.

​"We can't afford treatment for something if he needs it."

​"There's always adoption."

​Connor clenched his fist. There was no way they were giving his little brother away. He'd go too. A doctor came out and started talking to his parents and he overheard things like 'sensitivity to light' and 'glaucoma'. He didn't really understand the technical terms that the doctor was talking about but he got most of it. Paul needed something special for his eyes because otherwise it would just mess up his eyes more if he didn't. There was medicine for it but it would be easier to get him special glasses made for people with that problem. They would cost a bit and Connor swallowed. He could see his parents thinking over whether or not they were going to cave and pay for their own son's health. They did and Connor breathed a sigh of relief when they signed the forms to get his brother the glasses he needed. He went to visit his brother who was laying on the bed blinking like crazy.

​"Hey calm yerself," Connor said with a smile, "Yer eyes are gonna fall out if ye keep it up."

​Paul glanced over at him and smiled slightly, "Aye maybe yer right. Are we going home?"

​"A couple days. Ye gotta get some special glasses for yer eyes."

​"Cool," Paul smirked at him and Connor laughed softly.

​"Maybe. Just wait til ye have to wear 'em every day."

​"How much is it gonna cost us?"

​"Why are ye worried about stuff like that huh? Yer seven years old, ye don't need to worry about that."

​"Ma and Da aren't gonna like it."

​"Well....that don't matter. So stop worrying."

<><><><><><><><><>

​"These are the hands, that built America....."

​His nine-year old brother smiled at him as he sang softly. He had such a wonderful little voice. He was shocked to really hear him sing around him. Paul usually kept his voice to himself even though Connor tried to get him to sing for people whenever they were out. He was only nine yet he sang about topics he couldn't even understand. He sang things that had meaning. That was something rare in this time. Most music on the radio was sex, drugs, and parties.
​
​"From the stony fields, to hanging steel from sky......from digging in our pockets for a reason not to say goodbye."

​Connor listened to the boy next to him as he sang and held notes that some artists couldn't hold nowadays.

​"Yer gonna be amazing one day, ye know that?"

​Paul grinned at him, "Ye think it's that good?"

​"Yer amazing," Connor said as he sat back, "Current artists can't even sing that well."

​"Yer just saying that cause yer my brother."

​"Keep singing."

​"Of all of the dreams, is this one still out of reach? Halle....."

​Connor listened to the last note that was held for ten-fifteen seconds and had to remind himself that he was listening to his nine-year old brother sing this song. He didn't even think it was a real song.

​"Should we go inside?"

​He looked up and saw Paul looking at him. Connor sighed and shook his head.

​"Nah, yer feeling okay right?"

​Paul nodded and went back to kicking his feet up and back on the bench in the yard. It'd been two years since he'd been given his tinted glasses to wear everywhere he went. He wore them inside too after a particularly nasty event when they'd turned on a lamp quite suddenly and his brother had been blinded for almost the whole next day.
​His mother still hadn't been able to get a job since the government was declining. His father was getting paid less and less. It wasn't going well for them at all.
​They headed inside later on and sat down in front of the television. He watched as he saw the announcement. All U.S households with two or more sons had to give one up to the army to fight the next upcoming war. He glanced over at his brother and he swallowed. He would be going then. There was no way he would let Paul get anywhere near a war zone. Especially with his condition. A flash bang could be the death of him. It could blind him forever.

<><><><><><><><><>

​So when the soldiers came to his house he built up the courage and stepped forward. He wasn't quite eighteen so he couldn't choose for himself. And that was what caused him to lose his brother. He had seen the look in his parents' eyes. With him gone in just a few months, they would no longer have to pay for him. They would however, have to continue paying for Paul's treatment. And he watched helplessly as his little brother was taken from him to fight in a war that he knew nothing about. Ten-years old and being dressed in camo. He cried. He didn't usually cry but he was now. His brother was gone. He'd always wanted to be an older brother, to protect him, and now he couldn't do that. He couldn't help him from the war.

<><><><><><><><><>

​The first time he got a glimpse of his brother, was eighteen years later when the corrupt government run by Mark Wakefield dispatched 'Wanted' posters. He saw the main group of rebels and then a smaller group. He saw the names Adam Clayton and Larry Mullen Jr. written along with a third man. But he recognized him before the name even showed up. It was his brother. He could recognize the blue eyes hidden behind heavily tinted glasses. Paul Hewson. So his brother was a wanted rebel now. He smiled slightly. Of course he would still be alive and fighting.

<><><><><><><><><>

​And then he'd finally gotten the glimpse he needed. A public broadcast of the elite's trial. Chester Bennington was put on trial for his crimes and eventually sentenced to a day of corporal punishment. He had watched to see what exactly the bastard would get but was surprised when he heard an Irish accent speak out in defense of the man. His brother had become a man to be proud of. Someone who held onto ethics, rights, and humanity in a world that had none. He was a real politician. He heard him defend the elite, claiming they needed to start over with new rules. Everything that had happened was in the past now and if they carried out executions, they would be no better than the previous leaders. He packed a bag and headed out the door. His brother was at the Capitol and he was going to find him.

<><><><><><><><><>

​"He would've been president."

​Connor turned away from the grave of his little brother. He saw the only surviving man who had known his brother. Larry.

​"Dave was going to give it up and let him lead the world."

​"He was okay with that?"

​"Bono....he was never the kinda guy that wanted the job. But he trusted Dave. And if Dave thought he'd do well in that position, he would do it."

​"He would've done well. Why Bono?"

​"His uniform number said 80N0."

​"Of course it did."

​Larry sighed and sat down next to him. He traced a finger through the light patch of dirt. Connor knew that the other man was probably in a lot of pain over the death of his brother as well.

​"Did he ever sing for you?" Connor asked.

​Larry glanced at him, "Once. The night before we met up with the group. We were sitting at a fire. We'd just lost the rest of the military men we were with. He sang a song that he called 'Hands That Built America'. It was.....beautiful."

​"Yea."

​They sat in silence and then Larry looked over at him again, "There's going to be a fight here sooner or later with the return of that elite. I don't want to be on the wrong side."

​"Is it going to be over that one guy?"

​"Yea. Ye know, I don't think he would've liked it here. There's always another problem. He wanted to finally get some peace and quiet. Not that I don't miss him, but he's probably a hundred times happier."

​"Maybe yer right."

​"Head inside yea?"

​"Yea sure," Connor nodded. He followed the soldier inside and smiled slightly. That guy most likely knew his brother better than he did. They heard the yelling and the cursing and Larry glanced over at him. He smiled slightly. "Guess you were right."

​"I'm always right," Larry said before heading off to one of the rooms. And maybe he was.

​"Does that mean ye know who is going to win?" Connor asked. Larry stopped and stood still for a minute.

​"Yes. I think it does," Larry nodded thoughtfully before walking again. Connor wanted to call out and ask him who it would be but the man was already gone.