He didn't need to be a doctor to tell that he was dying. The nurses had stopped coming to his bedside ever since that last injection of morphine. Of course, he understood. They were in a war, after all, and the other men were all going to live... Fuck that, this was so unfair! The least they could do was send a pretty nurse to talk him into his death, right?!

He was young, so young that he'd never fucked a woman he didn't have to pay, because he'd lied about his age to come here and back then, he was too young to know the pleasures of a woman's flesh. The least they could do for him now was to give him something more pleasant to stare at than men, wounded men and more dying men. He was dying for his country, for God's sake! Didn't he deserve some kind of reward?

"This sucks," he mumbled to the ceiling. "I'm dying for Marianne, yet I must die surrounded by men."

"Oui, that does sound quite terrible, but at least you're dying on morphine instead of in mud."

The male voice came from his bedside and he wondered when the man had turned up. He was dressed drably like any other soldier, but his hair was too long and too clean, as blond as sunshine itself. Somehow, he was comforting to look at and the soldier was suddenly reminded of home. Not the home that he came from, the broken family of drunks, but the home of his dreams, the one he'd only heard about in stories about little cottages in the woods. The one he'd hardly dared to dream about.

"I'm sorry about this," said the odd man, gesturing vaguely to the rest of the makeshift hospital. "Really, I am. Should have known never to press a wild animal too hard, hah!"

"...the fuck are you talking about?" Here he was, dying, and there was this lunatic rambling about animals? Where had he come from? Why weren't the nurses removing him? Did they think he was a friend? Though his vision was blurring, he could still see enough to tell that it seemed no one else noticed this odd fellow. Well, he knew that morphine could sometimes cause hallucinations... Huh, of all things to hallucinate... "I'd rather be seeing a woman..."

"So would I," agreed the odd man. "But at least you get to see your beloved country."

"What? This shithole?"

The man looked rather affronted, turning around to look directly at him. "What? No, I meant me!"

The soldier wanted to protest that he would never imagine fair France as a (admittedly, kind of pretty) man, but he caught sight of those blue eyes and he knew. Fuck. Was that why he'd seemed to familiar and warm? But damn, he'd hoped to be able to see fair Marianne with her boobs hanging out.

"Don't you feel honoured? I don't do this for everyone, you know?" pressed the man. France. Oh God, his country was a man.

"I'm dying," he snapped back, though he felt a twinge of guilt when he saw the horror and sorrow crossing his country's (male) face.

"I'm sorr..."

"And I would have much preferred it if the last thing I ever see is a pair of lovely, pert boobs," he finished, trying to grin roguishly. "But I suppose you'll do."

The man seemed a little surprised, settling back down on the rickety chair. "I suppose that's why I'm here?" he mumbled half to himself. Suddenly, he seemed a little unsure, a little tired and a lot smaller. "You're one of the few who are really, truly and completely in love with me, right?"

The soldier made a face. "Please don't make me sound like a sodomite. I was always under the impression that you're supposed to be a gorgeous, nubile young woman. If I'd known..."

He smiled faintly, showing the country that he was only joking. Sleep was catching up with him, that final sleep that all could look forward to. France smiled back, a soft, sad smile that none of the other countries would ever believe could show up on his face. Then it morphed into something more familiar.

"So, you were saying about the last thing you wanted to see...?"


The soldier died with a huge grin on his face. Those around him experienced half a minute of heaven. And they never did manage to catch the pervert who undressed Nurse Marianne in the middle of the ward.


Marianne is one of the female symbols associated with France.

The wild animal France is talking about would be Germany, so…

Timeline: Some time during WWII.