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FINALLY IT'S HERE OMG GUYS WE'RE SOOO BACK

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

[hetalia] France x Violet Ansel (oc), Nurse AU

Warnings: body horror, mention of war.

An: English is not my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes. This fanfic wouldn't be here without my amazing partner @alodospos, she created it just as much as I did and I'll be forever grateful. I hope you enjoy it as much as we do writing it!!

‘Do you want to dance?’ An old man's voice echoed through the empty labyrinth made out of the old mansion’s corridors. ‘Are you waiting for someone?’ A hand reached out to the blonde. It was red, pulled from the flames many years ago.‘Aren't you too young?’ Eyes as green as oak leaves looked down at her, most focused on the neckline of her dress. ‘Excuse me, but why are you asking me that?’ Her young voice filled the air. She looked up at the corrupted man above her. Suddenly, the ceiling high above the girl's head covered itself with frescoes. Two figures, two fingers so close yet so far away. One stretched out to the limit, the other bent, hesitant over a choice. The colored glass let the beautiful moonlight into the cathedral and formed paintings on the walls. She moved her hand gently, swiftly catching white rays like a dancer on ice. Like a dove’s feather in the wind.

‘Are you avoiding me, Violet?’ This time, a gentle voice drew the woman's attention. Her eyes focused on a bench near the altar, which was empty. Someone was looking at her. There was no comfort in that gaze. The sound of heels clicking against the floor echoed around her, and a familiar medical cart appeared by her side. It dripped in blue moonlight. Out of habit, she looked over to check if everything was in place. And it was. Gauze, syringes, scalpel, broken teeth, pieces of green glass. Sterile instruments. Sutures. Ready to sew up a rip in her chest. The clock on the wall began to tick loudly, making her heart jump. A pendulum rocked beneath it.‘You're running out of time.’ She knew it. ‘Who do you think you are?’ Blood pressure was rising. Ansel, number four, zero, five, seven, six. She stood like a statue in the middle of the church looking at the loud clock hands. A shiver of fear ran through her body.

Suddenly the moon high above vanished, but this did not mean the end of the surgery in the operating theatre. The church disappeared, and the double doors formed before her. She was now carrying a tray full of bones, and she arranged them next to a doctor whose face was unfamiliar. Or maybe she knew it all too well. Was it her superior? A body lay under a large lamp, Violet looked down at it like always. It was small and limp, with an open chest. His ribs formed an eagle. His heart was still beating as it was hung on bones. Her head was now stuck in place, and her tired eyes followed no matter how much she'd like to turn them away. Without that skilled gaze, the operation would have been a failure. The lifeless blue of his body made it hard to swallow. Sweat appeared on her forehead. The child grabbed her hand. He was cold, very cold. His skin was as blue as a corpse fished out of a lake. ‘Mom, it hurts’ the boy whimpered faintly. Violet tried to pull her hand away, but it was pointless! She felt the grip tighten, even when her body tried to escape like an animal trapped in a snare.

Then, the child's hand disappeared. She could now see only her own. She was holding meters of narrow intestine, and it writhed like a snake wrapping around the sinner. She carved her nails into them. Ripping them, squeezing. Behind her back, a grey eye stared, hanging out of an eye socket. She remembered this patient. He was now stuck with a glass ball in his skull. She couldn't help him. She couldn't help them all. Someone was looking at her - Again. She turned her back to the stained glass window, facing God once more. Every row of the church was filled. Figures in hoods kept their heads down, and the statue of the Virgin Mary cried with red. ‘There is nothing to be afraid of.’ This is how humans look on the inside. They're created from water, dying when the streams begin to run. Was God also created from water?

Something pushed her tired body. Now, Violet ended up in a hospital corridor unable to breathe. She could feel water rising under her shoes. Her heart beat against her ribs. She couldn't take it anymore! Shivers devoured her. The grey, murky liquid rose faster with each of her steps. Oh my God. Tears streamed into her eyes. Her heart pounded harder. Faster. Her breath raced. Terror. ‘Are you praying?’ Steps turned into escape. Water reached her chin as she tried to open the door at the end of the corridor. Come on! She tugged at the handle under a sea of water. ‘I'm begging! Come on!’ She screamed. She looked down, but all she saw was a sea of red. She was drowning in the blood they poured like wine every day in the operating theatres. ‘No!’ She felt something grabbing her ankles. Finally, it flooded her nostrils. A wave swept her away without leaving a trace.

She opened her eyes to see the leather ceiling just above her head. Outside, leaves danced with cold wind, and in the car, a covered body lay on a stretcher. Only its left arm remained intact. Suddenly, her head got flooded with memories. ‘Mom?’ Glass shattered from the glasses hurting grey eyes, penetrating deeply as that bullet exploded. Poor soldier. The stench of burning skin filled her nostrils. ‘Fold your hands and kneel down.’ The priest said. Should she beg? The lights of the lamps glared into her eyes as she suddenly found herself on the operating table. A scalpel cut along her chest and her abdomen. Her body tried to escape, frightened, but it was for no use. The same doctor held her down. Her teary eyes saw herself whispering to the cross on her neck over her own body. ‘Dear God, have mercy on us.’ Skulls crunched under her feet as she walked down the hall. Blond hair covered in blood clung to her pale nation's cheeks. She couldn't stand looking at him anymore. She held his heart in her hands. It was beating hard and strong, but as rotten as an apple in autumn. Or maybe it had never beaten in the first place? The body, so twisted and mangled, tormented her under her eyelids as she blinked. Her world started to spiral again. Squeeze, break, another strike! The sound of a match splashed by her ear, and just a moment later she felt the fire eating away what's left of her. It hurts! God, help! Swan bones flooded with blood under her feet. A wolf tore open a rabbit's head. A finger entered her terrified eyes. Now, she had only coins on them. There were no violet fields, only laughter, crying, and bloodshed. A twist of the neck. The saw cut another bone, the amputation was over. The blood was not coming off her hand. She tore the skin off! She had nails in them. Her arms spread wide. The heart began to beat faster on the tray. Broken ribs. Screaming, crying. Tugging on her arm! Pulling at her apron. No, I'm begging! Hair tore away, hand on her throat. Complete emptiness, until finally crying! A gun to her head. Make it stop!

‘Violet?’ No more. A kind voice behind her called, and she turned around like a frightened doe. Who...? A tall figure, a friend. Before she could see the face, however, darkness came.

—

Violet's shaken body pulled away from the mattress covered in sweat. Ha! Ansel sat up, her heart beating like crazy. Where was she? God. Oh my God. She called out for Him too often for a non-believer. She found herself in a dark room, her room. But when she looked around, she saw no other nurses in their beds. She was completely alone. ‘What…?’ She swallowed what was left in her dry mouth, her heart still pounding. Where was everyone? She wiped the sweat from her forehead, but something felt off. Instead of relief, she felt a strange warmth. Her hand was sticky. Frightened, she immediately looked at it, and her eyes widened in horror. Blood! Dear God, it was blood! Both of her hands were bathed in red. No! Her breathing tore uncontrollably. In a panic, she threw aside her covers to escape. But then, she screamed, seeing her entire lower abdomen covered in red. The blood seeped through the blankets and into the mattress. It leaked out from between her legs, leaving her entire thighs stained. On the sheet lay an umbilical cord, cut off with a huge stain at the end of it. God! Her body panicked and fell to the floor. Tears began to flow from her eyes. What is happening?! Is this her punishment!? Let it stop! Please! ‘Mom?’ A voice spoke up, suddenly a hand grabbed her cheek. No, she did not mean to! Really, I'm begging! Let it end, please! Enough already! Enough! No! God!

The end! She gasped for air! Her body swung forward, then rested tiredly on her elbow. Shaking. No, no more! No more, I beg! Her heart, like a hammer, pounded in her ribs. Her hands shook, clenched on the bed sheets. Tears escaped from violet eyes like a waterfall, and sweat glistened on her forehead. Breathe, one, two, three, deeply. Calm down now. Hoping to find reality, the woman looked at her hands. Fortunately, they were as clean as a tear. After that, she quickly uncovered the bed sheets. They also remained white as snow. God, it was just a dream. Just a dream, a nightmare. Heavy, she sat up on the bed and looked around the room, gathering water from red eyelids with her fingers. Each nurse laid in their place. Anna, Marie, Eloise - each was asleep. A lone lamp stood in the corner of the room. Alright, everything was in order.

Finally, Violet rubbed her face with her hands. This time all over it. What was it supposed to be? Why was it haunting her? Was she at fault? God... She swallowed in her dry throat, then trying to calm down, she glanced at the open window. The picture of a summer night painted itself behind it. Fresh drops were falling from the gutters, which gave her an idea of the August storm. Now, even the moon was visible. It shined directly on her pillows as if wishing to soothe her nerves. Violet’s hair stood up in every direction as she rested her temple in her hand. She wouldn't fall asleep now. Not in this bed, which was wet with the dread of her nightly terrors. It ran down her body, down the neck slightly exposed by the unbuttoned collar. She needed a cigarette. Yes, she needed it more than air, which was suffocating her at the moment. More than praying. Though despite the cross on her neck, she no longer wished to. Why would this happen to her if God was so merciful?

The nurse got up from the bed, a shiver ran through her body. With bare feet, she touched cold and worn out tiles. A long, white nightgown covered her almost to her ankles, and her braid hung from her shoulder, messy and far from her usual, very careful hairstyle, hidden somewhere under a veil. She sluggishly slipped her feet into her shoes and grabbed a packet of cigarettes from the cupboard. It was probably the only addiction she didn't want to be cured of. ‘Ugh, as if a couple of hours' shift in hospital wasn't enough,’ Violet thought. Now, even at night, she had no peace. The blonde now had to take a breath, swallow it all, digest it, because she looked no better than a ghost straight out of a novel. Her steps lead into an empty corridor, hoping that no one would notice her. However, the world decided that this one time, it would not go her way. At least the corridors were clean and tidy, without an ounce of red on the walls.

A figure hidden under a shadowy ledge toyed with a new cigarette between his fingers. The wind blew gently, caressing his cheeks. The air was filled with the smell of rain. The man, however, could not bring himself to light the little roll and simply calm down. Though he guessed that was what was bothering him — this cruel emptiness in his head. He took it as a sign of ageing, because instead of a mind full of colours and a soul shaking with emotion, he simply did not think anymore. He only looked at his bandaged hands and sighed from time to time.

France was also no longer able to sleep, but for slightly different reasons than bad dreams. Behind his back, hidden behind the hospital shutters, were rooms full of red. They were full of moribund soldiers begging for salvation. Some begged their God for health and strength, while others begged only for death. Only or for that much. At some points, he himself would have gladly asked for it. The cloak of his uniform covered his naked, bandage-wrapped torso, protecting it from the light summer breeze. What a fate... He took a breath, and let the air out through his nose. Not like a bull, but like a lamb. Completely defenceless in the face of time and people. Then, his peace was interrupted by the creak of the backdoor.

“Huh? Someone at this hour? From inside?” He thought. The blond nation turned his head, and after seeing a familiar face, raised his eyebrows. Violet? She looked like a ghost swaying above ground! In her white dress, like a phantom, although France was probably most focused on the braid and exposed head. It was probably the first time he had seen her without that veil. What a sight! Maybe today he didn't have to smoke alone at all? Just…what exactly brought her here? Her, from all the people in the hospital. It's not the time for her shift. The woman instead, without waiting or looking around, grabbed a box of matches. Her hands were shaking. She had to wrestle with pieces of wood for a while before finally grabbing one. She swapped it for the first time. No fire. ‘Shit, come on, at least you,’ Violet thought. Irritation shrouded her face. In all that, she didn't notice a shadow that appeared at her side. There shouldn't be anyone outside the hospital at this hour. A face adorned with a smile created at least a semblance of a normal encounter. Those purple eyes did not have a slightest pinch of that predatory look in them. Women should be treated with the gentleness of a lamb. He began quietly, not wanting to frighten the lady when he spoke up completely uninvited.

—May I?

—Oh, God!

He failed. The woman gasped, letting the match out of her hand. Huh!?! Who! Her gaze immediately fell on the man. He, too, took a step back as if he got burned when he saw the agitation caused in the shaken woman. Maybe he shouldn't approach? But looking at her from the darkness would only be worse! As soon as the nurse realized who she was dealing with, she took a breath with a hand over panicked heart. Jesus! Nervousness was written all over her face, glowing with sweat. She really didn't think she would meet anyone here! A breathed, and an embarrassed sigh escaped her lips. She swallowed the lump in her throat with the rapid beating of her heart.

—I'm sorry, sir, I didn't think I'd see somebody here.

—Oh, I’m the one who’s sorry!— The nation's heart was beating like a drum. He slowly lowered his hands raised in a defensive gesture. Finally, they caught each other's gaze. Calmly.

Eyes scanned the other pair in the darkness of the night. Eyebrows, nose, everything in place. The same hair, familiar jaw. It was no longer a dream, thus there was nothing to fear. They both mellowed, even if Violet's mind today resembled a storm at sea. Francis smiled gently like a true gentleman. As he had knocked the match out of the woman's hand, he now had to atone. He lit his own flame and set it close to the tobacco-stuffed end of his nurse’s cigarette. She gently bowed her head after a moment of hesitation. The first breath spilled over her stress-clogged lungs, and her fingers seemed to stop shaking for a second. What a relief… At the same time, what an embarrassment to show up like this. She came off as a cat afraid of her own shadow!

—I see that none of us could sleep tonight.

—It's hard to sleep in such heat, isn't it?— Violet muttered, taking the cigarette out of her mouth. At the same time, she nonchalantly put her arm around her chest, as it was the first time she stood in front of someone in a night dress alone. Not counting other nurses. In front of him, on top of that. What a lack of professionalism. Her mind tensed up more, saying “goodbye” to moments of solitude. She would have liked to look at the soldier with her typical, sly smile, but now she felt as if her head was still stuck in her now empty bed. As if hidden behind a fog.

—Indeed— Smoke drifted up from above the cigarette held by France. He watched Violet as she spoke. He noticed the sweat on her dimly lit skin, how pale she was. The heat? The rain dripped off the red tile roof, finally blurring the nurse's little lie. She didn't want to talk, he respected that, he was unfortunately only a patient, maybe a friend. Even if they started feeling something new as well. The woman stood there as if in a trance. But after a moment, her absent irises fell towards the nation's white bandage-wrapped chest, and a question arose in her mind. A work habit.

—And why aren’t you asleep, sir? I'll try to help with the pain, if you need anything.

—Please, stop calling me sir. I’d rather you just call me Francis— The personification closed his eyes, consuming his addiction. The woman did not respond, only sighed softly. This was not the first time he had asked for it. Today she did not have the strength to fight. —Someone is howling from the pain, again. Listening to it is hard enough, sleeping is out of the question.

The blonde frowned slightly. The halls behind them were drowning in blood, filled to the brim with people who were merely begging for mercy or death. She couldn't shake off the feeling that this one here was simply complaining. However, she swallowed that little spark of annoyance.

—I know, I can hear them too—— She replied, drawing the cigarette to her dry lips. All the time, at any given hour.— but I'm sorry, I can't do anything about it. At least this way we know they are alive and maybe they will get back on their feet. Silence would be worse.

—If you put it this way, it would be worse, yes— He admitted sighing briefly, but still, he would have preferred silence. He liked the nurse's thoughts, however. Were these the very words that allowed Violet to keep her psyche in check while the war tugged at her like wolves, piece by piece dismembering fresh prey? Naturally, how else would she prove to herself that what she was doing had any sense? They scream so they live, they feel pain, so her work is worth it, it matters. Agony is salvation. How are we to learn to live when only death surrounds us?

Minutes passed as they stared at the moon, the atmosphere was heavy, and they didn’t even want to open their mouths. The conversation went away for a brief moment, but in this silence, an agreement was formed. Silence brings relief. France's head was so empty from exhaustion, it now resembled a desert, on which single buds of thoughts bloomed after the rain. It wasn't much, but a spark of curiosity, that was the first step to getting out of that emotional lethargy. He mused over Violet's job as she was resting at his side. Standing straight with a cigarette in her hand, she tried to forget, her fingers still gently trembling.

Every day to pour blood like this, to tear through human organs, to cut skin and muscle. He wondered if after such sights one could still treat people under the scalpel as something more than a bag of meat. The human brain had to defend itself somehow. Maybe that's why it invented nightmares. Exposure was the best tool for coming to terms with reality, right? His immortality made him a stone carved by the waves of time, but Violet was so human. He took another drag on his cigarette, finally starting to think.

—Violet, how do you handle it all? —a quiet question destroyed their silence, eyes looking at each other, searching for hidden emotions—You have to listen to it every day, you all have to. Soldiers call you mothers in their agony, many older than you. Only screams and cries. Your strength is admirable, not many can work like that - I could never.

The woman looked down, feeling her body tense up again instead of relaxing in her beloved company. Did he really, of all moments, have to choose this one to ask? As if on cue, faces of soldiers appeared in her mind. Women, children. She remembered how some fell to their knees to grab onto her apron, or refused to let go of her hand. How does she handle it all? She supposed her ambitions were too high to allow her to let go. She felt a lump in her throat. She hasn't had good days lately. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she slept soundly. Called a mother, she thought about how she would have loved to be in arms of her own. Unfortunately, it wasn't reserved for her, she had never met her. The answer to it all, however, was probably simpler.

—This is my job, Francis. We all must do what we can, and the least I can do is help— she replied calmly, glancing at him softly. Pale and tired, gently shrouding her shoulders. He did not remain indifferent to such a look, a sad puff of smoke curled above them— But sometimes I do think about leaving.

The man felt a small cramp in his stomach, and his heart hit harder. Leave? Could she just quit like that? Where would she go? After all, she wouldn't be safe in the world. Here she was, somewhat protected by The Red Cross. Somewhere else she would be just a civilian. No, she couldn't just drop everything. She was too responsible for that. What would he do here without her? Ah, selfish of you, Francis. The tip of his shoe rustled against the loose dirt, carving a hole.

—It’s a pity you can’t hide from the war. Not even for a moment— The tone of his voice was more melancholic than before, even though his eyes tried their best to remain tender. She was still distressed. It was clear as day —Where would you wanna go?

Violet smiled slightly, thinking, grinding her cigarette between her fingers. A sweet question, although also a little bitter.

—I've always wanted to live somewhere near the sea—they shared a blissful smile—Ive only been there once, but since then I can't stop thinking about it. So I'm trying to save or that, although now I don't know when it will be possible. I don't know if it will be at all. It's hard for me to even sleep.

She muttered, inhaling smoke for a moment. As France dreamed of living by the water, a flash of longing for simpler times could be seen on his face. The waves, the wind, oh, the peace, the ability to run across the shore with your feet in the water. How blissful. But currently, everything in the nurse's life was in question. Earlier, salary, place and a smile from fate were at stake; now Violet had to survive. He couldn't tell her how she shouldn't be worried and how she would get what she wants. He wondered where he would run to if he could, he wondered if he would even want to. Being a caged bird for so many years might have completely desensitized him. She would want that now, too. To completely cut herself off from rational empathy, maybe then nothing would haunt her. A question formed in her mind, after these minutes of silence.

—How do you sleep..?

He glanced at her, thinking for a second. The leaves danced with the wind.

—Like every soldier I suppose, eventually you pass out from the pain— His voice was becoming even more gloomy after each word. He didn't allow himself to reflect on anything he saw on the battlefield, meditating about the point of war. The recipe for sleep was to accept the world as it was and ask no questions. It was to disconnect the brain from the body, bury one's humanity and welcome this new reality with open arms, or fall in love and enjoy the feelings while they last. That's the only way he knew. Violet stood on the other side of this moral conflict. She never fell victim to the suffering of the body that he was so familiar with. Although mentally she was limping, this wasn't a mind that a young, healthy person should possess.

—Sometimes I really wish I could take away your pain, feel something different— She murmured, gently lifting the corner of her mouth upward. She took a drag on her finishing cigarette. Perhaps they both shared the fate of nightmares? Would it be possible to get rid of them? Who would know better than not France?—You have seen many things, haven't you? Terrible things.

—Yes, but I saw many beautiful things as well— As if on cue, his eyes drowned in the image of the woman standing right next to him, and for the first time tonight, a small smile could be seen on those lumpy lips. She only raised her eyebrows first, but later, her lips did the same. No matter what, he never lost his charm. Both hearts struck harder in the symphony, almost like they were aware of the feelings coming to life inside of them. Of course we’re not talking about love here, but who knows, a little crush perhaps? The couple stared at each other for a moment until Violet looked away. Fingers squished the cigarette harder, smiles faded away.

—How do you sleep having all these things in your head...?— she asked rather grimly, drilling her eyes into the distance.

She will not let it go, the blond sighed, catching the last inhale of the suffocating smoke after which he threw the cigarette under his feet and trodden well. France's gaze fixed on her side profile.

—I don’t think you want to hear about my nightmares—A moment of pause and a small thought. He finally connected the dots, and oh how stupid he was not to realise it earlier! She wanted him to start this conversation, correct? His voice became softer, tender, and almost motherly. He raised those gentle eyes upon the nurse—Do you have nightmares, Violet?

The blonde's gaze fled farther away for a moment. There she was, like a little girl afraid of the dark. How pathetic. At least that's what she thought of herself. After a heavy breath escaped from her chest, France knew he had hit the spot. It was the first time she showed her paler colors. She felt so childish...But now, when she had forced the question she had subconsciously fought for, she could not back down.

—I can't stand it anymore. When I close my eyes I still see them..I can't sleep, over and over again, I have to work—she gasped, releasing some of the smoke, also throwing the cigarette on the ground. Her eyes talked more than her lips. Running away from images and truth. Searching for something good. A bit awkward now, the blonde wished to show that despite everything, this was just a small obstacle, which she will deal with right away. That's what she was made to do. No whining.—It's nothing serious, forgive me for asking. You seemed like the best person to talk to.

—It won’t get easier..

Grimly, yet realistically, he could not pull the wool over a woman's eyes. Letting his age come in handy for once, he had a chance to actually help someone. Just what solution would work here? A cure for nightmares? Death, nothing was more effective - but that was out of the question for obvious reasons. Think.

—You can try describing what you saw, it helps me. When you say scary things out loud they become easier to process in your head.

At this advice, Violet turned slightly pale. Saying all this out loud? After a moment, she gently raised her voice. What did she have to lose? Though, it all seemed rather silly.

—Children. A lot of children—she began melancholically, but confidently.—Dead, or almost. I saw people without eyes… the church, our hospital.

Her voice seemed to strain a bit, exactly like her body. Her hand nervously played with the ends of her hair. Her mind came back to the blood-soaked corridors through which she had walked just a moment ago. Jesus… let her sleep.

——I really hate it when they call me “mother”.—she hissed rather dryly. A spark of anger in her eyes blossomed. Some relief washed over her. It was the first time she had said it! This relief, however, quickly began to turn into guilt, which she began to fight against.— I would also like mine to hold my hand when I die. I can't blame them, they're just children. But I wish they would at least give me peace in my sleep. That's all I want from them…

She frowned, feeling a small tightness in her throat. Now she was the one complaining.

—But since you say it won't get easier, maybe I just need to get used to it.

—You do, but try following my advice and it will get easier over time. I bet you felt the difference already— He replied with a caring smile, wanting to cheer her up a little in this difficult moment. He could see the suffering on her face, which she tried to hide under a weak smile. They remained in silence like this for a while. Only the blond man broke it, albeit with uncertainty.

—Earlier, you talked about your mother, and I don’t know how it feels to have one — Francis admitted, raising his indulgent eyes on the nurse — I can’t give her back to you, nor replace her.

In his smile, a sad note lingered. His eyes ran up and down Violet's silhouette in a small act of stress.

—However.. I can offer a hug.

When the offer was made, the last part more quietly, they finally made eye contact. Was it too inelegant to propose such closure? Nevertheless, he took that risk. The Frenchwoman raised an eyebrow, but quickly, they were followed by the corner of her lips- a hug? Well, look at that, that wasn’t what she expected. Was this what she needed? She couldn't judge for herself, or even admit it. The least she could do was lift her head confidently with a small, maybe a little playful smile.

—If you think it's what I need, then I'll take that suggestion—She stated calmly, a bit jokingly, pushing him toward responsibility for his actions and words.

—Why don’t we find out?

It was good to see her again with that certain, slightly teasing smile. France perceived it as a “yes”, and she was too curious to say something different. A few steps were enough for a not much taller soldier to grow in front of the nurse's silhouette. A breath, one move and arms gently grabbed her waist, which was tucked behind her white dress. He trapped her in an embrace trying to relax. Their chests met each other, exchanging warmth. At this moment, their roles switched. Now, he was the caretaker. Her body seemed so fragile.... the silhouette he felt under his fingers did not fit the image of a steadfast woman, not until now. Not until he sank his fingers into her. Violet took a deep breath, her heart beating faster. France could feel how tense she was. After a few moments, her clammy hands settled on the soldier's back. There, how nice... The blonde rested her chin on the taller man's shoulder. For the first time, they were so close, she could smell the smoke, the scent of the night. How she missed this… Her mind switched off for a moment, finally silence. Finally, warmth. She closed her eyes, breathing quietly. Everything suddenly disappeared, even the tension in her body. I guess this really was what she needed. It had been so long since she could allow herself a moment like this. A moment of weakness. Duty was taking her life, but she was saving someone else's in the process. She shared this fate with hundreds of people. The hug tightened a bit, Francis held her close, and she hid her nose in his shoulder simply resting. How nice would it have been if he could drown his fingers in her light hair. Just hold her close, say it's “alright”. The wind calmed them. He definitely shared her feelings now. Let it last forever… this moment of humanity. The touch of skin and bodies, created warmth. It was hard to break away. In the end, though, they had to. Therefore, very slowly, the nurse moved her chest away, leaving him with this unpleasant feeling of emptiness. They looked at each other, now calm, with soft smiles.

—Did you find out?—she asked quietly, with a hint of sarcasm. Her hands gently held the uniform imposed on the soldier's shoulders so that it would not fall off. Faces were close, eyes taking advantage of the view. Her hands still held his back and waist.

—We both needed that— He pronounced the verdict with a confident smile, which she reciprocated.

—seems like it—She whispered.

France could still feel how they melted into each other. Sometimes, this was the simplest solution, the relief he felt in that brief moment overshadowed even the discomfort of his wounded body. Violet smiled softly, her eyes sliding momentarily to the ends of the fabric of his uniform to correct it at the neck. Francis, noticing this inconspicuous move, looked down. His eyes dropped lower to the woman's cleavage.

—Beautiful cross—The short compliment was backed by a small smile. Her hand let go of his waist to grab her holy medallion. It was old and made out of silver.—I have one too, it helps me stay strong in tough times.

—Do you believe in god?—She asked curiously.

What does someone who could live forever believe in? Sometimes, even now, she found it hard to believe that someone like France even existed in the first place. It contradicted everything she believed in, and above all it was science.

—You can say that. It’s more of a habit than a real faith though.

He didn't have to think about what would happen after death, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to go to heaven. What he wanted most was to just disappear. Violet's gaze lingered on the man’s neck, searching for the pendant that had fallen into her memory. Much more apparent to her, however, was the large scar, in the shape of a hoop. Oh, the urge to gently touch it with her fingertips. But she couldn't. Violet took a step back, to where she was standing. The warmth disappeared, but it was still present on their bodies. It was intoxicating.

—And you?

She shook her head. Her gaze slipped to her cross.

—No, I don't think so— She stated confidently, returning her eyes to France's tired, scratched face. She smiled seeing how this surprised him—this is a gift from my caretakers, I don't take it off often. I guess it's also a matter of habit. They probably wouldn't be happy with my answer, but that's the truth.

—Really? And who are those caretakers if I may ask?— She barely talked about herself, up until now, he had a bit of a different image of her in his head. The golden haired woman smiled, glaring at France. She toyed with her necklace between her fingers.

—Nuns—Her smirk was ironic, and the man blinked, looking at her— when you said you wanted to return my mother to me, as much as I appreciated it, unfortunately I didn't meet her once. I grew up in a church in Paris. All my life with a cross around my neck.

She sighed quietly, glancing at Jesus' outstretched arms with a certain longing. Would anyone be proud of her now? That was what she wanted to believe.

—It gives me some comfort though—she continued, then added with a hint of amusement, — but not even because it's a cross, it might as well be a rock. I guess it just reminds me of “home”. So I think we are pretty similar.

—Well… that’s quite the story—He admitted while glancing at the silver piece. After that, he looked at his own which he faithfully wore on his neck. Funny, now he couldn't even remember who gifted it to him. It must have been some important bishop or cardinal— So you used to be a believer, correct? Why did you stop?

The soldier's tired back leaned against the wall. He should soon go back to lie down. Violet told him to rest, but now he was too interested.

—It's hard to believe when such things are happening in the world—she exclaimed, looking at him askance. As if to say “isn't it obvious?”— We were all taught that God is merciful and punishes us for evil and sins. But what evil did children commit to experience wars? Famine? This is not mercy, but cruelty. I will not worship a God who does not protect us from this.

Her mature voice remained calm, but after a moment, she reached into her pajama pocket to take out yet another cigarette. Francis in his head began to admit that she was right.

—Religion is just a word, at least for me. God is people, and we are God. I used to believe that the devil has horns or that he's a funny little man on my shoulder. Now I know that he actually, most of the time, wears a suit and tie. Smiles the brightest. So I stopped believing in something which was never there. Amen.

She ended it with lighting a match that illuminated her face. After just a moment, smoke escaped from her mouth.

—So what do you believe in?

—I don't know— she shrugged—I guess just in myself. Without me, I wouldn't be here and I won't go where I want to be. I believe that someday it will all end.

—I like your way of thinking—France summed up his thoughts on her interesting monologue, which he listened to with pure pleasure—I think humans pray to ensure that God will protect them from death, war, starvation. Not because they want a better world, but everyone is too scared to say it out loud.

—And I wish their prayers come true, I don't mean to make fun of them, don't get me wrong—she glanced at him with a friendly smile, getting closer— That's just not for me. Funny, because a lot of people ask if I'm a nun.

She added that somewhat amused, inhaling toxic smoke. After a moment though, she furrowed slightly and turned back to the man making direct eye contact. Come to think of it, that might not have been so funny at all. Wait.

—Am I acting like a nun?— The man giggled at this question and glanced at her amused.

—You? No way, they must’ve never met a nun before—He shook his head, pondering what the woman had said earlier. She was incredibly curious about the way the soldier looked at her. It was clear as day that she had her feet firmly planted on the ground, and he respected that, even applauded it. Though sometimes, it was easier to welcome death with the certainty of a reward waiting in the alleged afterlife. Violet clearly wasn't like that.—I did think you were christian though. I think it’s the cross, the red one too.

The woman sighed, but after a moment, she cheered up and leaned against the wall next to the slightly taller soldier.

—I'll give you that, at least you didn't think I was in a nunnery —she began with a smile, then held out her hand towards him with a cigarette, which he gladly accepted—It's not that I don't respect them, It's just not my path, you know? I liked to break the rules when I was younger.

—I think you've grown out of it.

—No, I don't think so— Violet smiled playfully, looking away. France's warm, quiet laughter rang out around them.

A silence fell between them, but this time, it was a pleasing one. It was what they needed, a certain weight came off their chests. She definitely enjoyed breaking the rules, one of the perfect examples was a feeling that had begun to develop within her. Within them. Their relationship should only be work-related, and yet she started to worry. Worry that she might love the silence in his company even more than alone. France handed her back the cigarette and she lingered her gaze on his face as he stared ahead. What was he thinking about? He looked like an empty shell of a human, even now, relaxed. He was like a doll that someone had played with too long and too hard.

—How are you holding on?

—I try not to think too much and carry on like that— France shrugged his shoulders, knowing just how interesting his life was from the perspective of a human, but he was just tired of it. He was tired of war, questions, and expectations.—Although, I won’t lie that I’m well.

The man's tone had quietened, his once again blank gaze staring off into space. The nurse listened patiently, feeling herself growing more and more sorry for the man at her side.

—Eternity is far too cruel a fate for you— she softened, looking at him. Analysing. How lonely it must have been in this eternal life, for centuries, without end. He was drifting in the abyss that life had become. Never to take away his youth, his beauty. But was anyone at all able to be by his side until the very end? Probably other Nations she didn't know. Violet herself would have loved to live forever, but it was not meant for her. And was she supposed to believe in a God who condemned this living being to this endless cycle?

—When you first arrived I didn't believe you were real— she began, her head bowing towards the man. Her body tilted to lean sideways against the wall, closing some space between them.

—Nobody does— He used their sweet closure to steal a cigarette from her hand and fill his lungs for a short moment. Harsh smoke heals everything, body and mind. It’s amazing considering how dreadful it tastes.

The blonde nurse smiled warmly after a second.

—I'm glad you're here.

At such a sentence, France frowned, not quite able to believe in what he was hearing. There wasn't an ounce of sarcasm there, and yet he couldn't believe she was telling the truth. But why? This woman never lied. Or maybe, she was too good at it.

—You're glad to have someone to waste time and bandages on?— he hissed, but after a moment he chastised himself for it in his mind. Unfortunately, France fell into a rather unpleasant mood, and now he probably came off waspish. Violet, however, would not be herself if she did not accept a small challenge.

—I'd prefer to meet you over some tea, but sometimes we can't get what we want— She shrugged her shoulders, watching the cloud of smoke rise over their heads.— So yes, I'm glad. I'm happy to work with you. I'm glad we can talk sometimes. I don't think I'll ever completely understand what you're going through, I doubt any of us will, but….

She started, gathering her thoughts. She reached for her cigarette which he gently gave away. Now he also turned sideways to her, expectantly.

—I'm going to die someday, and I'm glad I met you. Even for a moment, I doubt I'll see much more in life. Besides, am I supposed to treat you like a plant? Let you bleed like that? ‘Waste time.’ ——she mocked—You outdid yourself.

This sentence made Francis raise his eyebrows all the way, looking at her a little confused. She had always treated him like a human, but apparently, his head had not fully embraced this fact. After a moment of silence, he smiled softly. That strange warmth in his chest that he knew was there again. Someone was really happy to meet him.

—Well, thank you Violet… I’m also glad we’ve met. I hope we will meet in another life.

—So do I, but so far we're not saying farewell yet—She assured with a smile, glad that they were sharing their time together and the corners of their curled mouths. However, one word got stuck in her head. — Another life?

She asked, wrinkling her eyebrows slightly. What a strangely worded sentence, he probably meant the future. The cigarette landed in her mouth and Francis smiled like a fox. She was alert. Her astuteness never escaped his eyes, which was why he had just dropped that sentence like a decoy, and the fish had swallowed the hook.

—Have you ever heard about reincarnation?

He began with a question, trying to test the ground for this small talk. People reacted differently to his theories, some with laughter others with scorn, but he knew he was right. The woman took a moment to think. Where was this going?

—The soul is reborn in a new body. They don't teach this in churches though.

—Correct. They won’t teach you that because humans live too short to know— He answered softly, glancing upon the nurse by his side. He weighed every word with caution so as to not commit a faux pas. In his eyes, she was a lettered individual —I saw people coming back. I’ve met them time after time. New body, old soul.

The woman looked at him, wrinkling her eyebrows in confusion.

—If what you're saying is true, then you are just confirming something that people could never do—She questioned, not knowing how to take these words. Even the religion she grew up with had just fallen in ruins. After all, there was only supposed to be one life on earth.

—And you can either believe me or not, I’m no different now than a priest. It’s up to you to decide— The man added, looking at her in all seriousness, but smiling gently. He wanted to gain her trust but also remind her that there was no evidence supporting his claims.

Violet felt her heart fasten in her chest, eyes scanned France’s pale face for lies. Though why would he lie? Now he had her interest, like a bird in a grip. She always thought he was like a chamber full of stories and knowledge people wouldn't understand, at least not fully. This one was no different.

—How do you know they are the same ones and not just someone similar?

—When you meet them you just know. They often look similar, act similar and sometimes they vividly remember past lives. It happened too many times already for it to be just a mere coincidence.

—So…——She began, not knowing a bit how to respond.

She did not give reincarnation her attention, she believed that the human body dies and whatever happens to the essence, it does not fall into the next body. Let's take it with a grain of salt. This was said by an immortal being, alone most of his life. Maybe it was just an invention to maintain some semblance of normalcy? A semblance that there is no need to say “goodbye” because they will meet again one day anyway?

—You're saying that it's possible to still live after I die?

—You can say that, but it’s more of living your life once again. Maybe we will meet in better times. I would love to.

He dreamed for a moment. Eventually, peace should come to everyone, and he hoped that Violet would experience it yet in this lifetime. If she didn't, that would be alright too. Seeing her happy in her future life would be the greatest fulfillment for him. People unfortunately did not always come back for better times, but may fate be kind to her.

—Even if that's what's going to happen, do you think I will remember you?—She asked genuinely, feeling a spark of hope for eternal life. This was something completely new, something that was hard to grasp and accept. This was what life was like? They were to be born, die and rise again. Wasn’t it amazing?—You said, some people remember things, isn't that a bit like a key to continuing relationships after death?

—They don’t remember me, and you won’t either, but that’s the best part—He smiled beautifully at her, looking into her flowery eyes. He leaned in more, like if it was a secret, closing more space between them—I'll get to know you once again, from the start, in better times. There is nothing more I want, Violet.

The nurse's eyes sank into those equally engrossed in purple. Nothing more, it sounded too colorful. But now, France had planted in her a seed of curiosity that could germinate into the true fruit of desire. To live forever, without end. A fool's dream that was a nation's nightmare. Her lips twisted into a soft smile, and her cigarette rubbed against the wall fell to the concrete. Tension appeared between their two bodies. This closeness, through it the conversation became intimate like lovers' whispers.

—Surely there is something you want more, charmer—She smiled teasingly, although the heart in her chest began to beat harder.

—I think I know my desires best, or am I wrong?—He replied in a rather flirty way, watching her as she finished second cigarette. She gently trembled from the cold night.—Because there is nothing I crave more than to learn about you again. Maybe endlessly. Now you’re never getting rid of me.

Both hearts seemed to beat harder in that second. It was as if they both knew what was behind those words, but it was too soon to be sure. The woman's gaze softened, and her hands intertwined on her stomach as she confidently raised her head. Eyes locked on each other. She was no better than him.

—Who said I want to get rid of you?—She asked softly, as if a little quieter. She looked France straight in the eyes without hesitation. She stared into them heavy lidded for an answer, but at the same time waited for the words. She shouldn't, but he started it. She liked to break the rules.

—If that’s so, I’ll make sure I’m always with you—He replied, lowering his voice. An idea struck him. The nurse watched every movement. He exposed his arms, as well as the rest of bandaged body, and grabbed the collar of his uniform. Before she could say anything, he approached her. Her heart pounded with a slight jolt of stress, and he gracefully slipped the uniform over her shoulders. She stood there facing him, surprised. He adjusted the cloth further and looked deep in her eyes, holding the green cloth close to her neck. So close now; they could smell each other's fatigue.

—As a little proof, I give you a little part of me—The blonde exhaled through her nose, she felt a shiver running down her spine that definitely wasn't caused by the cold. He too didn't let go of the collar, hiding the moon behind him. The uniform has warmed up from the wounded body; only now did she realize how cold it truly was outside. And he stood there, his bare skin exposed. What an ass. He'll never learn, and even now, she was worried.

—I don't need proof, it's enough that we're talking like this—she claimed softly, having no intention of pulling away. Neither of them had yet. But it was too soon.—You'll catch a cold. I can't take it.

Stubborn, she lightly grabbed the corners of his uniform where his hands were, like she wanted to shake them off. But he stroked her skin with his thumbs and smiled at this violet tenderly, like a lamb.

—I won’t force you, but I really want you to keep it.—He replied bluntly, his stomach starting to twist from the closeness. If only he could... ah! The taste! But he knew the woman valued professionalism too highly, and he respected that. On the other side, the thoughts were no different. Violet swallowed, her eyes gently wandering from one eye to another. Oh, how easily she could have made that move now, but she couldn't. It was inappropriate. And what if it was just a moment? There was no love, just curiosity. The tension. He had to pull away, but she was like a magnet, that scent, that gaze. Finally, he took a step back, stroking the woman's shoulders one last time, as if to warm her. She let out a breath of relief and regret at the same time. Before, she hadn't thought any of France's advances had meant much. It would be nice if they had. Now, she didn't know what to think. Though the idea of loving him in this life and the next was incredibly tempting. Now, more real than ever. She adjusted her new uniform and after a moment, gave him a soft smile. This was all so stupid.

—You're right, gifts are not to give back— She agreed, and after a moment, she carefully raised her hand to him. As if to a bird that might get frightened. Her fingers gently lingered on his hot cheek to embrace him tenderly for a moment, and he melted into them like a longing cat. He could only hug his cheek to her, but that was enough—Thank you, Francis.

She smiled warmly, withdrawing her hand. They both moved away from each other for a few steps. After a while, however, she couldn't take any more of this cursed moment, so the gentle smile transformed into that one she used during her work hours. It was sharper, sarcastic, and the nation immediately noticed. Ah, yes, here we go. But that was fine, they both messed with each other's heads.

—But I beg of you, if I'll have to deal with a fever because you have a cold, I have no idea what I will do to you. In the next life it will be you who will want to get away from me—she threw back at him. She had to shake off the shivers.

—I know, I’m coming back inside, doctor. But I wouldn’t mind your bickering about how I never take care of myself, if that means we’re always together.

—You’ve said you don’t like doctors.— She answered with her brow raised.

—Well, I like you.

—Okay, that was just corny.

Both smiled happily to one another, Francis shrugged his arms having no choice but to agree. Well maybe it was, but he was honest!

—You like being tortured, then— She murmured amused.

—Hard to call this a torture— Quick answer going back at her and a charming smile following. France couldn’t help but to get lost in thought.

Violet’s touch had always calmed his body and soul, but could a couple like them even have a chance of existing? This game had to be played slowly. For now, the small touches and the sight of the woman in his uniform would be satisfying enough. Her mind was thinking in similar tones. His words are always so sweet, giving her glimpses of god knows what. But how could one love in times of war? She wasn’t sure of her own survival, anything could happen. However, shouldn’t this be a perfect reason to take some risky steps? She may end up smoking another one in a second.

—Go rest now, I will do the same in a moment.

—You’re sure? You don’t want me to accompany you back?— He offered like a true gentleman

—No, there’s no need, thank you— Nurse smiled at him, her back slowly touching the concrete wall —Rest now, please. I can’t help with screams even if I wanted to, but I hope you can find a way to fall asleep

—Somehow I will. You also try to sleep, I know how hard it is after nightmares— He smiled back to lift her spirits a little, to which she responded with a little nod.

France took a few steps back, taking one final glance over his shoulder.

—Goodnight, Violet.

—Goodnight— Soft words alleviated this little departure, guiding him on his way back with her tired eyes. Finally the eye contact broke, and she could only observe the half-naked back of a soldier. After a short moment she spoke once again—Francis?

Hearing this sweet voice, the man turned around like it was an order. A surprised look surfaced on his face, since he already managed to get away a bit, heading inside. What was that?

—Yes?

They just stared at each other for a moment.

—Thank you for tonight, I needed that,— she stated confidently, scanning his body from head to toe. He only gave her a warm smile.

—Me too, darling. I’m glad we’ve talked,— he assured, clearly satisfied. After that, they bid their final farewells for tonight. The soldier disappeared into the dark night, going back to the hospital ward. She raised her hand as a ‘goodbye’ and in the blink of an eye, she was alone again.

With a deep breath out of her lungs, she put her head against the wall. A heavy feeling on her chest appeared and then disappeared. He messed with her head, more than any time before. They knew each other long enough, their flirty talk was nothing out of the ordinary. Today was different though. Nobody laughed today. Without much thinking, her hand reached for a pack of cigarettes in her pocket. Tired gaze stuck into the horizon, the brain couldn’t stop going back to the moment when there were only centimeters between them. A match lit up the cigar for the third time today. However, this time the stress wasn’t caused by nightmares, they moved aside for a moment. It wasn’t important. The rules were important now. If they both theoretically wanted it, they could, right? Right, because why couldn’t they? But she won't risk her job for that. She couldn’t live depending on someone else. She will die, he won’t. And even if this whole reincarnation theory is true, will they even meet again? Violet smoked this cigarette like it was a toast. Cheers to immortality. What he wishes to lose she wants to gain. And they both weren’t aware of the consequences of those desires.

She once again sat on the edge of her bed. However, her eyes instead of resting under eyelids were focused on the dark green in her hands. Her fingertips gently ran over soft material, her head finally free of noises. She had no idea this night would end like that. She was supposed to get some air and get back to bed. Now, she had whole new thoughts to dream about. Similar to Francis, tucked in his bed and tired, hoping he will pass out from fatigue. Both seemed to realise that the closed gate had become slightly open. It had a little gap now.

They knew each other well, but not in this way. France had nothing to lose, and Violet had everything. She was blocked by responsibilities. Her work, her future home, her mortality and her body fully capable of rotting. She would get old. He would never sleep in a grave. The woman was thinking about it all, mindlessly petting the uniform she laid on her lap. The name badge stood out from the green. Both itched to learn more about one another, to get to know deeper, differently. What a cruel world. If only things were easier. Her hands suddenly gripped the material tightly when a quiet rustle could be heard behind Violet’s back. She jumped in place, turning her head around. Ah, it was only one of the nurses rolling over in her bed that startled her. She sighed quietly, but her heart had skipped a beat. And this was how things would look like? Now, that was enough for one day. Bare feet touched the cold flooring, and a suitcase got pulled out from under the bed. She folded the uniform neatly and placed it under her belongings, not that there was much of it. She closed the lid and breathed calmly. Her head finally rested on a pleasantly cold pillow bathed in moonlight. Only a few hours left until her morning shift, but now, when she closed her eyes, the shivers once again spread on her body. Who would visit her this time? Would it be peaceful now? Was there nothing to be afraid of? Why? Why does life slumber? Perhaps maybe, because everyone would finally wake up from this nightmare.

—

Thanks for reading!

#My wife is so amazing guys #hetalia #soldier x nurse #oc x canon #h-ayata #historical hetalia #fanfic

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