The relocation of Prussia's army went quite smoothly, thanks to the large cargo planes Denmark had been able to supply. There had been just enough to move everyone and everything in a single trip.

The result was that the camp in Normandy had doubled in size and was now only a few miles to the North of the capital, Rouen.

Denmark decided that, since they would be moving on in the morning and they may not see much of each other after that, he would take all of his fellow nations out to a club in Rouen. He wouldn't indulge in alcohol, of course; he had been completely sober since Norway's abduction. But the other…well, they deserved a chance to have a good time.

They all piled into two of the military transports that the army was using, dressed in their formal military uniforms (except Hungary, who was wearing a stunning green dress whose origin was a mystery). Prussia, Hungary, and the Ireland brothers took one; Sweden, Finland, Switzerland, Denmark, and Iceland took the other. (Normandy was far too young to go and was left in the care of one of Denmark's aides.)

Once they got to the club (a small, upscale- and therefore reputable -place called "The Last Dance Café"), they were surprised to see a few familiar faces: England, Austria (who was actually just playing the piano in the corner), France, and Scotland.

"What are you guys doing here?" Denmark asked, surprised.

"We wanted to wish you good luck and give you a jolly send-off," England replied, his cheeks already flushed with alcohol.

"Ah, well, thank you."

"And I'm buying."

"Well, that's even better."

England smiled a bit sadly. "He has gone too far this time. He needs to be stopped. Promise me you'll do that?"

Denmark instinctively knew who England was talking about. "I promise."

"Thank you, Denmark."

A few hours later, Denmark watched a few couples slow-dance on the dance floor, pressing against each other in silent gestures of love or desperation. Of course, not all of the nations were dancing. Finland and Sweden were at the bar, several stools down. Denmark watched the foolish human girls (and a few guys) hit on each of them. Could they not see that Finland and Sweden, though they had not been married again after 1809, were more in love than any of them could hope to be?

The dancing brought back memories that Denmark was not sure he wanted to recall. Mostly him, dancing with Norway. They both were surprisingly good dancers, once they figured out who was leading. (Then again, was it so surprising? Norway had a good sense of rhythm learned from playing various musical instruments, and Denmark was a hopeless romantic.)

Denmark wished Norway was there, even if they weren't dancing, just so he could enjoy his company.

But Norway wasn't there. Guilt consumed Denmark; it was his fault. But he would right his wrongs, if it killed him.

Denmark watched Prussia lead Hungary off the dance floor. They talked briefly (though it was too far away for Denmark to hear) and, with a kiss, they parted. Hungary took a seat with Austria and Switzerland on the piano bench; Prussia claimed the barstool next to Denmark.

"Hello, Denmark."

"Hi, Prussia."

"How are you holding up? It must be difficult…."

"I- It's strange, you know. Last time I…lost him, I drank. A lot. This time, I'm completely sober. And it's possible to see the world in perfect clarity."

Prussia frowned. "Be careful of clarity. More often zhan not, it will drive you mad."

Denmark scoffed. "It won't! The clarity is great. I can see how each action will affect the next. I- I wish I had been able to see this clearly before." And he knew exactly what he had to do, but he didn't say that.

Prussia shook his head. "Zhere are people who depend on us, and people we depend on. In moments of absolute clarity, vhen you look on zhem, you vill see zheir whole life: zheir past, zheir present, zheir future. And you vill see how zhey die. And no matter how many times you see it, zhe pain does not go avay."

Denmark studied Prussia for a moment. For once, Prussia's barriers (composed almost entirely of self-confidence) were down. He could see the pain, the loss, the sadness, that lurked in his eyes. He hadn't thought that Prussia carried those barriers with him.

Prussia continued in a quieter voice. "It is difficult, so difficult, to let go sometimes. And sometimes, it is difficult to hold on. Do- do you see vhat am I saying?"

"I think so…"

Prussia nodded. "I had lots of time to think, you see… But enough dark thoughts…" He changed the subject, talking instead about this year's cancelled Olympic Games, and what the 2060 Games would be like.

Denmark couldn't help but notice Prussia casting stray glances over to where Hungary was sitting with Austria and Switzerland.

"You don't have to worry about Austria, you know," Denmark interrupted.

"Vhat?"

"Don't you see how he looks at Switzy? He's just being polite towards Hungary."

Prussia considered. "Yes, I suppose you are right."

They talked for a while longer, before Prussia excused himself. Denmark watched him walk to where France and Scotland were sitting and say something to France. France replied, making a few gestures- was France giving him directions? Perhaps.

Denmark would never know.

Scotland came over and sat next to him. "Hello."

"Hey, Scotty."

"Do ye have a plan fer victory?"

"I think so, yes. Well, Norway made one. I'm just following it…"

"It better work."

"I will make it work."

Scotland chewed the end of a plastic straw. Strange…Was he trying to quit smoking? Denmark had always assumed that Ragnarok would come before that happened. Denmark alos noticed that he hadn't been drinking. Something was very wrong with Scotland.

"You trying to quit smoking?" Denmark asked.

"Aye. Franny's goin' t' have a baby. Tryin' t' quit drinkin', too."

"Well, that explained his irritability.

"So, ye see, I've got a family. A growin' family. And if anythin' happens t' that family because ye screwed up…well, tha' won't happen, will it?"

Was Scotland threatening him? "I intend to take the fight to America. I'm moving my forces out of Europe."

"Good." Scotland's voice got softer…well, friendlier, anyway. "How are ye holdin' up?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know about Norway."

"Oh."

"Are ye holdin' on? Or... are ye thinkin' o' letti' go?"

"Of what? Norway? Or the world?"

"Either. Both." Scotland shrugged.

"If he was…gone, for good, we'd know…right?"

Scotland shrugged again. "We didn't find out about Hawaii fer a while after th' fact."

"That's true…So he could be…gone." Denmark felt his blood run cold. What if he was? How could Denmark carry on? "He was the first person I ever met, you know. It's been so long…"

Scotland's voice hardened again. "If ye are lettin' go, do it after ye put America in his place."

Denmark's voice hardened as well. This would have been enough to make most people run away in fear, but not Scotland. Was Scotland implying that he would give up without exacting vengeance for Norway? Had he forgotten the Vikings? "I'll not defeat America in your name, nor in your family's name. This vengeance is mine, my last debt to Norway. I owe him not to credit you, not that you deserve it. And I will not give up until America is helpless before me."

After that? That was a different story. Vahalla, perhaps, would be a nice place to go afterwards.

France msut have noticed the glaring contest between the teo nations, for he came over. "Écosse! Do not bother Denmark."

"Franny-"

"I must speak wiz him. I'll be zhere in a moment."

Scotland nodded and left. Denmark now knew who wore the pants in that strange relationship. He had always wondered.

"I must apologize for his behavior, Denmark. He is just worried."

"It's fine; I understand."

France studied him for a moment. "You love him, don't you?"

"Your husband? No."

France laughed softly. "If I suspected you did, you and I would be having a very different conversation. Non, zhat is not who I speak of."

"Who, then?"

"Are you so dense zhat I need to explain it to you? I speak of Norway, of course."

Denmark took a deep breath. "Yes, I still love him, even after everything."

"He loves you, you know."

"He used to love me," Denmark corrected bitterly. "At least, I think he did. Before I screwed everything up."

"Non," France said, shaking his head. "He still does, wherever his is. Are you so blind that you can't see it? It is so clear, in his eyes, his gestures, the way he speaks to you…"

"Are you sure you're not wrong?"

France sniffed, clearly offended. "If zhere's one thing I know, it is how to deal wiz matters of zhe heart. I am not wrong."

"And then there's another problem."

"When he comes back, I zhink he will see zhe world a bit differently. You still have a chance wiz him…" France smiled softly. "I zhink zhat, no matter what happens between you both, he will keep giving you chances."

"'When'? Don't you mean 'if'?"

France shook his head. "No, I mean 'when'." He smiled sadly. "Fate will make sure of zhat, I zhink." He left Denmark alone with his thoughts until last call.

A/N: Moral of the story? Prussia is the wisest person in this whole universe, France is a soppy romantic (who's more than a little effeminate), and Scotland wants what's best for his family, even it means being a total d-bag to Denmark.

And just a hint of SwitzerlandXAustria, for your enjoyment.