Marguerite Williams stood over the bathroom sink, pale. Her long blonde hair done up in pigtails and a big red sweatshirt that had a maple leaf on it was being used as a dress. Her purple eyes stared back at her in the mirror. She looked and felt horrible, and it was bad enough that her fiancé was recently drafted in the war. Gilbert Beilschmidt, her fiancé, was drafted to help fight alongside his home country, Prussia, while Marguerite went back to her home country, Canada, for safety purposes. She wished that it didn't have to be this way. Everyday she worried for her love and whether or not he would make it back alive, but she unfortunately didn't have control over the situation.

Marguerite examined herself through the mirror; she felt almost light-headed. Her condition was getting worse, and it was time for her to be earnest with herself. Both fear and excitement overwhelmed her as she had a theory as to why she was so sick. All the symptoms added up, and so she decided to go confirm her theory and then mail her fiancé a letter that was overdue.

Gilbert sat in a not-so-capacious army truck. He was just headed back to base with his comrades after having a draught with them. It's been two years since WWII started and Gilbert wondered when it was going to stop. He was recently deployed due to the fact that the country of Prussia was now in a bad state; everybody was blaming the war on them, again. They were drafting many people now because of this. It was horrific. Not to mention the fact that he was away from his family now; his parents, brother, and most importantly Marguerite. He wondered if she was doing alright and if she was away from danger.

This wasn't some exploit, this was the real deal and if it was up to Gilbert, he wouldn't be here at the moment; no, he would be back home with the woman he fell in love with and was about to marry. He just hoped that all this hell would lift soon and everything would be peaceful again so he could go back to his love.

Being somewhat drunk didn't help either. Gilbert sat squished between two others as the truck drove through a deep gorge. It was nighttime and Gilbert was exhausted. His platinum-blonde hair and red-violet eyes made it easy to determine where and who he was. He sat there in deep thought.

"Hey, are you alright?" asked one of the men.

"Huh? Oh, Ja," Gilbert answered. He looked distracted.

"You don't look alright." Gilbert sighed and pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket.

"Marguerite sent this, and it's only been about a week, but I just...I just can't bring myself...I miss her so much." Gilbert gathered his thoughts together. It was silent for a moment before the man spoke again.

"Look," started the man, "Ja it's been a week, and I can understand your pain. I have two beautiful daughters at home with my wife at the moment. Don't you want to at least know how she's doing? I'm sure she would want to know how you're doing as well."

Gilbert rubbed his face. He didn't move for about a minute and then opened the letter and started to read it. He didn't show much emotion until he finished; everyone watched him closely. He gripped the letter tightly and covered his eyes.

"What is it?" asked a man. Gilbert chuckled.

"I'm...I'm going to be a father," he said with some joy. Everyone started cheering and giving their congratulations, as well as their sympathy for being away from her. After all, who knew how long they were going to be away.

As soon as I leave, Gilbert thought. His thoughts were scrambled. Now he missed home even more and it hurt a ton more inside to be away from her.

He was interrupted in thought when the truck came to a startling halt and shouts were being thrown. They were being ambushed.

Gilbert put the letter back in his pocket and got ready for battle as the truck emptied of men trying to defend the attack. Gilbert left the truck and ran for some cover to where he could get a good shot of the enemy. As he found a giant rock he could hide behind, he got his gun ready for fire. He loaded it, cocked it, aimed, then struck down an enemy. One down, who knows how many left.

Gilbert reloaded his gun for another shot when he heard the shouts and cries from his fellow comrades, and they kind of frightened Gilbert. He didn't know what to do, it seemed impossible now to get out of this with a win. Thoughts flooded his mind, although he could barely think straight due to the surrounding noise. The only thing he could focus on was Marguerite. He knew what he had to do; he had to retreat. There was no way he was going to win; nor was there a way to help his fellow comrades, if any were still alive. What he needed to do was to get away and warn the others about the ambush.

Gilbert's heart was beating so fast he wondered how he could still function. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and he took a deep breath. He could hear the sounds of his fellow comrades being killed, and he tried to block it out of his head. He needed focus on getting away. With a sharp inhale, Gilbert cocked his gun for defense and stepped out from behind the rock. He didn't make it far as someone must've seen him.

Gilbert felt a very sharp pain strike him in his side. He immediately grabbed his side as if it was going to help, and started to partly limp his way from the attack. The non-stop noise drowned him; he couldn't focus on anything. He looked down at his hand as he brought it away from the pain. There was red. His heart skipped a beat. No, he couldn't...he needed to make it...for Marguerite's sake...

Another shot pierced his chest and Gilbert fell to his knees. The pain was now unbearable. As he stood on his knees, the blood started staining him. He had to keep going, he had to...

His uniform blood-stained, it hurt to move. The raucous noise around him dimmed to a muffled silence, and his vision started to go fuzzy. His whole body was becoming numb, and he felt out of existence. The only thing that flashed through his mind was Marguerite. Even then, he was very confused as to what was going on. He was no longer paying attention to his surroundings, he couldn't even if he tried. It seemed like time had slowed down almost to a stop. Everything around him started to become sideways. If he still could've felt anything, he would've felt himself hit the ground. The only thing that was repeating in his mind was Marguerite, even though at this point he really couldn't think at all. It didn't take long before everything became black and darkness covered his lifeless body.

Marguerite stood in the kitchen, her brother by her side. They were talking about the baby, and what gender she hoped it would be. Her brother, Alfred F. Jones, didn't seem fond of bringing a new life into this world during these times, but to see his sister very joyous, he couldn't argue.

It had been three weeks since she sent the letter, about five since Gilbert was deployed. Her belly was now starting to just barely show. Marguerite was so amused that she couldn't stop rubbing her hand over the tiny bump. She really missed Gilbert and hoped that he would come home soon.

"I'm sure he's fine," Alfred insisted. Marguerite sighed.

"I'm just worried for him. I want him back," Marguerite softly cried.

"I know," he said softly. "You know why I came here, though."

"Al, we talked about this—"

"I know we did," he cut her off, "but remember what Gil told you: he wanted you to come live with me back in America if it got too dangerous here. America is safer at this moment, and Gil would want you where it's the safest; and I do too."

"It's not so dangerous here," she stated. She didn't want to leave; she wanted to stay here. Everyday she wakes up in hopes that the war will end and Gilbert will come home. Yet, everyday she wakes up disappointed.

"Doesn't matter—"

"Alfred, I don't want to," she cut him short. She sobbed a bit, and then sat there in silence for a minute. Alfred let her think for the minute.

"I know," he was somber. "I know, but for mom's sake? For Gilbert's sake? For my sake?" He hated using Gilbert and them against her, but how else was he going to make sure she would be safe?

Marguerite was about to speak when a knock at her front door interrupted them. Alfred, being the man of the household while he stayed, got up and answered it for her; he also wanted to make sure that it wasn't trouble. When he answered the door and saw a man in a service uniform, he immediately turned his expression into disbelief.

"Don't tell me..." Alfred said. The man simply nodded, giving a very apologetic face.

"Does Ms. Williams live here?" the man asked. Alfred nodded and then called for Marguerite.

"Yes?"

"Ms. Williams, I'm sorry to tell you that an ambush occurred just a few weeks ago near one of our bases," he paused as they could see the hurt on his face for having to say this. "There were no survivors."

"Gil—" she choked back tears, but it was to no avail. Both the man and Alfred looked heartbroken. Marguerite pulled her hands to her face, trying to hide the tears. She started shaking her head as if denying it would make it untrue.

"I'm so terribly sorry," the man said very softly. He was very sorrowful.

"Thanks for telling us," Alfred thanked him quietly as he left, and then wrapped his arms around Marguerite to comfort her. It hurt Alfred to see his sister in so much pain. He shushed her and tried to calm her, but she only kept crying in agony.

"Shhh shh shhhhh, Marge I'm so sorry. Please, I really am," Alfred softly cried. He felt so terrible. Marguerite was still sobbing, bringing in a hiccup here and there.

"Let it out," Alfred soothed.

"He's gone...he's gone..." she kept trying to talk, but was too busy crying to say anything. She was practically gripping Alfred tightly that it almost hurt him.

"I know...I know...I'm so sorry..." he consoled her in a hushed voice. "I'm going to go call mom, okay? I know you don't want to hear this right now, but I'm going to take you back home with me to go see her, okay?" Alfred asked quietly. Marguerite didn't argue this time, she only shook her head yes. She couldn't help but fiddle with her engagement ring on her finger, which only made Alfred even more depressed. She stood planted as he left for the phone. She couldn't believe it, she didn't want to. It hurt her to think about it, but she couldn't let it go. Her love was gone, taken away from her, and she couldn't do a thing about it.