Britain walked along the coast, scanning the water for any sign of life. "FRANCE?" he called. "FRANCE, ARE YOU HERE?"
He turned slightly and immediately found himself face-to-face with the long-haired nation.
"Bonjour," France said with a grin.
Britain screamed and jumped. "Don't do that! You nearly scared me to death, ye bloody frog!"
"Zat is impossible," France replied with a smirk. "You're already dead."
"So I heard…" Britain shook his head and smiled. "Anyway… it really is great to see you again."
"Oh, non, you're just saying zat…"
"No, really, I mean it. I… I missed you… a LOT…"
France smiled and wrapped his arms around Britain's waist. "I missed you, too, mon amour," he breathed.
"Veee~!" came a distant voice. "Is that-a Britain?"
"Oui," called France, letting go of Britain and turning to see three figures coming toward them.
"Oh, great, is-a Britain dead too?" complained Romano as they drew nearer. Italy grabbed his brother's hand and dragged him in Britain's direction, leaving Greece behind to stare at a random rock on the ground.
"Britain!" Italy panted, stopping in front of him. "We was-a gonna invite you to our-a little get-together but we couldn't remember if you was Catholic or not and then we couldn't find you and we thought you were dead and then we died and now you're dead… Are you okay? What happened? How is everybody, what's-a going on…?" He ran out of breath and had to stop.
Britain smiled. "I managed to escape across the Atlantic, but I think I died along the way. Now, let's see… The CNN has completely abandoned the world, Canada isn't a nation anymore, Russia's on the verge of taking over the world, I think China's gone nut-burgers…:
"What about Germany?" Italy demanded.
"Oh, he's fine. I just saw him, in fact. He's hungry, but we gave him something to eat, so I think he's fine."
Italy sighed. "What a relief. I was worried he'd-a go crazy or something." He looked up with big, sad eyes. "Does he… does he-a miss me?"
"I… He didn't say," Britain said at last. "But… he seemed depressed. I'll bet he does."
Italy seemed to find this answer satisfactory.
"So, cher," France said, resting his head on Britain's shoulder (thus making him very uncomfortable, being in front of others), "what brings you to our sunken little corner of ze world?"
"I'm not really sure," Britain admitted. "Prussia told me I was dead, and I realized I might be able to find you… so here I am."
"Prussia's still around? I would zink he would have completely disappeared ages ago."
"Yeah, that's what I thought. But apparently he's been living as a part of Germany all this time."
"Hmm."
Greece finally kicked the rock he had been staring at so intently, and approached the group. "Now I know how my mother felt," he murmured. "I guess I won't be coming back as a cat after all."
Ignoring him, France sighed contently and wrapped his arms around a very embarrassed Britain's neck.
"Will ye bugger off?" Britain snapped, shaking France off. Seeing the hurt look on France's face, he added more gently, "I don't think I'm ready for the touchy-feely stuff yet."
France nodded and eventually reverted to holding Britain's hand. The two proceeded to stroll down the beach, followed distantly by the Italy brothers, who chased each other around like over-energetic puppies.
Britain glanced at France, who smiled as he looked straight ahead. This was his old nemesis- the flamboyant, perverted bastard with whom Britain had done nothing but bicker since the beginning of time. And yet… somehow… Britain was pretty sure he had always loved France. And he was almost positive France loved him back.
Now they were deceased. While they still existed, they weren't nations anymore. Britain realized this meant they no longer had any political obligations to be enemies. They could get married, even, and no one would care.
"Francis?" he asked softly.
"Hmm?"
"I… I'd like you to know that I… er… I…" Britain found himself somehow unable to finish.
France smiled and gripped Britain's hand tighter. "Je t'aime, Arzer," he practically whispered.
Britain smiled back. He looked around at the clear blue sky, the gentle waves, and the small stretch of sand in the middle of the German landscape. He inhaled deeply and, for possibly the first time ever, Arthur Kirkland allowed himself to be truly happy.
xXxAnd in the north…xXx
Iceland left immediately upon getting home from the meeting, complaining of a headache. He went out on walks and such often- Canada was pretty sure it was in order to find solitude. The ever-antisocial Iceland rarely talked to Canada, or anyone, for that matter. Most of the time, if someone called him, he told Canada to answer and say he wasn't there or wasn't available.
Canada watched as Iceland tromped away down the dirt path, leaving him to his chores. He sighed and went to get a mop and a bucket. He thought about how strange it was for the water to come out hot by default as he filled up the bucket, and proceeded to clean the floor.
"I'm home," came Iceland's emotionless voice just as Canada was finishing up. "If you need me, I'll be out back." By this he meant he'd be soaking in the hot spring in the backyard.
Canada shrugged, snuck a piece of licorice from the jar in the kitchen, and got out a feather duster. He began to dust the pictures on Iceland's mantle, thinking about how he was more of a maid here than anything else. Iceland clearly didn't know much about managing a territory.
Canada stopped and stared at the picture in front of him. It was a simple portrait of Iceland looking playfully down at a bird in his lap. Picking up the framed photo, Canada studied the bird. It was black and white, and wore a little bow tie. The way it seemed to get along with Iceland was all too familiar.
"hey, iceland?" he called as he went outside. Iceland looked up at Canada, who held up the picture. "what's with the bird, eh?"
Iceland held out his arm, and Canada handed him the picture. He looked at it intently and smiled.
"Mr. Puffin," he murmured. "He was my best friend…"
"oh," Canada said as Iceland gave the picture back. "did he…?" His voice trailed off.
Iceland nodded. "I woke up one day and found him dead. Heat stroke, I think."
Canada recalled a very similar situation regarding the last time he saw Kumajiro (THAT was his name! Canada had been struggling to remember it for weeks now!). He sat down on the ground and glanced at the silver-haired nation in the water.
"i know what it's like," he said. "losing a pet, i mean."
Iceland responded with nothing but a slight nod.
Canada cocked his head to the side. "… you're not very social, are you?"
Iceland shrugged. "I'm used to living alone," he mumbled. Then he glanced up at Canada, gesturing to the hot spring in which he sat, and added, "You're welcome to come in here, you know."
Canada thought a moment, then removed his shoes and shirt, and slipped into the water.
"we seem to have a lot in common, eh?" he asked with a smile.
"I guess so," Iceland agreed.
"huh."
"Huh.