It did not rain the day of the funeral.
It should have.
A man such as that should have been mourned by the very elements themselves.
But no, it was sunny, almost too bright for comfort.
Denmark wondered what the other side was like- he'd recently been having rather morbid thoughts. If this kept up, Finland was going to drag him to a shrink.
But first, one very mournful day.
It passed in a haze. No one, when questioned later, could quite remember the events of the day. No one could remember the words spoken, the hymns sung, the food served after.
Everyone agreed that every nation had shed tears, though. That was the way of it; even if you had a rivalry, you respected them- you were family, and nothing could change that.
After the last words were spoken, the last of the soil patted into place, the last of the food nibbled at, and nations were beginning to drift away, Denmark checked his watch. 2:34.
He'd been away for more than three hours.
Was everything ok-?
They would've called otherwise…right?
He looked around for Finland. (He had the car keys, since he didn't trust Denmark to operate heavy machinery.) He needed to get back. Now.
He caught Finland's eye. The Finn nodded and excused himself for whoever he was talking to. (Denmark wasn't paying attention.)
"Finland, can we go now?"
"You really are like a child, you know that?"
Obviously, Finland had decided to partake in the alcoholic beverages offered (because that had been in the will); otherwise, he never would have said that. Denmark decided to ignore that comment.
"Will you please drive me back to the ship?"
"You do realize that the best doctors in the world are monitoring him, right? He'll be fine for a few hours."
"It's been a few hours."
"Look, Denmark, you're stressing out over this too much. No, let me finish! It's not going to help anyone if you die of exhaustion, okay? If I agree to take you now, you have to sleep in your own bed. No more falling asleep in the arm chair. And you have to eat the food I cook for you. You're much too thin. Ok?"
"Yeah, sure." He had little intention of following all of Finland's rules, but he needed a ride.
"Cool. Let me go find Sweden and we'll go."
What Finland didn't know (or he would have gotten Denmark to a shrink immediately) was that Denmark blamed himself for everything: America's death; Norway's coma; the war, even.
Rationally, of course, the war was not remotely his fault; the death and coma could be counted accidents.
But a good leader (even if he isn't leading anymore) takes responsibility for those around him- both for what they do, and for their fates.
Eighteen hours spent trying to save a life only redeemed a small fraction of his soul.
But if that life was lost, then his soul could not be redeemed.
Logically, it made no sense. But Denmark was not a logical man; he was a man of passion.
Furthermore, he disliked trusting the people who were his responsibility to others. Even for three hours.