A/N: I think I'm going to regret writing this fanfiction, but I'm going to give it a chance since the idea was too good to pass up. I'm going to cry while writing this. I'm sorry.

Disclaimer: I do not in anyway own Hetalia or the characters. All works belong to Hima papa.

Summary: Over the years, France has lost many people that were important to him, and he just might loose the last shard of his heart to the one he's taken care of for so long.

The fact that the Frenchman was staring out of the window was unusual to him, as he watched the birds fly past into the clear blue skies above. He always loved how they could just be free, along with their own flock and not give a care about the problems and lifestyles of daily human beings. Although he isn't technically human, he is still faced with the life of a country; paperwork, possible economic failures, the thoughts of his people and so on. He sometimes felt jealous towards regular human beings, as they are able to live their life to the fullest until they day their very breathe is taken. He hated the fact that he couldn't die, but he had no other choice. He would just have to wait for the day where he would be reunited with past loved ones. He would just have to live with the pain.

France continued to look out the window from the large mansion he lived in, drowned in the very thoughts that most countries never dare think of. According to England, it's better to live life with something new and not dwell in the past. Even though his words were true, France couldn't help but cross that path of thinking. He couldn't even help himself when he thought about the good things that happened back then. But he had to place boundaries for himself personally. Nostalgia is his weakest point, and with past wars and battles, any thoughts of Joan or Prussia killed him to his very core; the loss of a lover and the lost of a special friend.

Every part of his being was torn away continuously which each death on a loved one, with each person he made contact with who eventually came to and end. And for a time, he kept himself away from the outside world, to silently mourn to himself as he tried to fix the missing pieces of his heart. It was torture, a living nightmare that seemed to repeat itself. It took time for him to cope, and longer to tell himself that their deaths were not in vain.

These many thoughts and unanswered questions started to poison his mood. Moving away from the window, he silently hummed to himself as he walked down the spacious halls of the mansion, lined with various pieces of artwork that he collected over the years. It provided him comfort and some much needed relief. But something kept nagging at his senses as he was walking. It didn't feel right, almost like a warning of some kind of event that is suppose to happen. He instead brushed of the feeling, thinking that he was still a bit paranoid from his thoughts.

Walking into the living room, he noticed how the coffee table was packed with stacks of books that were spread about. Taking the books one by one, he lined them back into their home on the bookshelf. Taking the last book, he knocked over one of the picture frames that decorated the table. Putting the book down on the couch, he picked up the picture frame, relieved that the glass didn't shatter. Turning it over, he warmly smiled at the picture of him, along with Spain and the ever so energetic Prussia. As quickly as he smiled, he frowned at the sight in front of him. It was the last picture they had taken with the Prussian before his passing.

He was so calm after the war, even when he was separated from Germany and had to live under the rules of Russia. And when they were reunited again, he was still the same as ever, even after the tearful reunion. What made France admire him more was the fact that he never talked about dying, never waiting for the day when he would disappear. He made each day new and exciting just as he always did. He never changed until the end, but when he did leave the earth, everyone mourned and grieved for his death. Germany couldn't cope for a while. Eventually he held the iron cross the Prussia wore ever day, whether it was in his pocket or around his neck. Hungary seemed to be greatly affected. She started to carry her skillet more and more until she came to terms with his passing. France hated the look of despair on everyone's faces. It made him sick and helpless on the inside.

France put the picture back onto the table face down. Sitting himself down on the couch, he hung his head and placed them in his hands. His body shook as his breathing felt labored, the same way he reacted on the day of the funeral. France could play the whole day in his head like a VHS tape, not one detail being left out. He could clearly remember the flowers that lay around his lifeless body, how peaceful he looked with a smile plastered on his face, how everyone spoke their greatest memory of him, how he broke down when he couldn't take the growing pain in heart. France relaxed his body and controlled his breathing, before jumping up to the sound of the doorbell.

Reluctantly, he got up from the coach and made his way to the front door. He didn't look too good, but he didn't care at the moment. He just wanted to be alone. Opening the door, his eyes widen at the person standing there; Seychelles. France was taken aback, knowing that she usually doesn't come to visit him. She smiled warmly at her former caretaker, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"It's nice to see you Papa."

"W-what are you doing here? You normally don't come and visit me." He returned the favor by kissing her forehead.

"I thought I'd try something new, to come visit you instead of you visiting me."

France couldn't help but smile at the younger nation. She always knew how to brighten him up, even if it wasn't intentional. He had always loved this quality about her. She was so full of life and excitement, just like when he found her as a child. She had changed his views on life. To say that she is worth everything wasn't enough to describe her. He let her in, taking the bag that she held in her hand. He watched her as she entered. Again the same feeling his heart came back. The 'warning' that he brushed off came to his senses again. He didn't know what it was and again brushed it off, but in the back of his mind he knew that something could happen to the island nation. He just didn't know what it could be.

To be Continued.