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A final ship arrives at the port of Dunkirk and the remaining soldiers at long last receive a warm feeling of hope washing over them.
England watched from the bridge, smoking a cigarette as men slowly boarded the vessel. France stood with him. The sky was relatively quiet at the moment, contrasting the noise of the soldiers.
Finally, the last of them were aboard, and the officers who had stayed behind were slowly getting called to join them.
“MR. ENGLAND! MR. FRANCE! LET’S GO!” a naval officer called, and England sighed and threw his cigarette on the ground, putting it out with his foot.
“Come on, France. Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said as he started walking down the bridge towards the dock.
The man stopped abruptly when he did not hear sounds of footsteps following behind him.
“France, what the bloody hell are you doing?” he asked, agitated.
France simply stood there, twiddling his thumbs as his dirty blond locks flowed in the wind. Letting out a long sigh, he walked up to England.
“Angleterre, I-” he struggled to get the words out at first, but eventually he blurted it out.
“I can’t leave.”
England’s eyes widened. “What!? Are you mad!?” he nearly shouted, grabbing France’s arms harshly.
“Listen, Angleterre. I- I can’t leave my people. Not in the situation we’re in.” France’s voice was shaky, as if holding back tears.
England let go of his arms. All he did in the moment that followed was look at France in utter shock. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“W-Well, I understand that… but you have no choice. Y-You have to leave now. They’re going to capture you,” he eventually responded. For once in his life, he wanted France, his longtime enemy, to get to safety.
“I know,” France shakily sighed and looked down.
Suddenly, he pulled out a small note from his uniform pocket. “Please, Angleterre. take this. Give it to Écosse,' he said, grabbing England’s hand and placing the note in his palm.
England looked down at the note then looked up at France.
“Scotland’s going to kill me for this, you know?” England chuckled.
France smiled. “The note will explain everything.”
Their faces shifted to a solemn expression after that. There was a moment of silence.
“SIR! WE HAVE TO LEAVE NOW!” came a voice from the ship.
England glanced towards it, then back to France, letting out a long sigh.
“I don’t know if I should call you brave or stupid for this.” he said, slipping the note into his pocket.
France’s eyes glistened with tears. “You can figure that out on the ship.” His voice broke as tears dripped down his cheeks.
“I guess this is farewell,” England said, his tone softer than usual.
France slowly walked closer and leaned in for a hug.
To his surprise, England hugged back.
“À bientôt,” France whispered.
“We’ll come back for you,” England promised as he pulled away from the hug.
“SIR! COME ON!” the voice called again.
England slowly turned and started to walk away but took one last glance back at the Frenchman on the bridge. France nodded to him as a sign of approval. England solemnly smiled.
“Good luck.” He said, before turning back and making his way aboard the ship.
A few minutes after England disappeared onto the boat, it slowly began the journey back to the British Isles.
France watched as the ship parted from the port, eventually getting engulfed by the horizon. He let out a sigh before walking away from the port.
‘We’ll come back for you.’
-
“YOU WHAT!?” Scotland shouted angrily at his younger brother.
“How many times do I have to tell you!? I had to leave him! He refused to board the ship!” England retorted.
Scotland slammed his hands on the table in frustration. “NO! YOU’RE LYING TO ME! YOU JUST LEFT HIM THERE BECAUSE YOU HATE HIM!” he accused.
England scoffed. “Be serious, Scotland. I may hate the man, but I am not leaving him for the wolves."
Scotland laughed, but it wasn't a joyous one. “HA! You say that as if you didn't leave him. BUT YOU DID!” Scotland’s face was red with anger as he said this.
England was fed up. “Like I said previously, I had to leave him. If he wanted to get on the ship, we happily left room for one more, but he didn't want to!”
Scotland was not buying his little brother’s words for a second. “YOU’RE LYING!"
England stood up from the table angrily. “FINE! YOU THINK I’M LYING!? READ THIS THEN!” he angrily slams a folded up piece of paper onto the table.
Scotland raised an eyebrow before picking it up.
‘Pour mon chéri, Écosse.’ The front of the note said in familiar loopy handwriting.
Scotland glanced up at England, who scoffed.
“He wanted me to give this to you as soon as I got back, but I've had a hard time handing it over since you keep being childish," he retorted, folding his arms before sitting back down.
Scotland rolled his eyes at his brother before turning his attention back to the note. Gently, he opened it, and was met with more looping handwriting and a page of French.
“My Dearest, Scotland.
I hope this letter will be able to reach you. As of writing this, I remain unhurt on the port of Dunkirk. I know you’re worried sick about me, but fear not, my dear, we will be back in each other’s arms one day.
I’m sorry I couldn’t make it back to you on British soil. I just can’t bear the thought of leaving my people in such a situation. I may be captured, perhaps even killed, but you know better than most that I am a stubborn man. I would never go down without a fight.
I will come back to you one day, I promise.
Please do not be angry at your little brother. As entertaining as the thought of him getting yelled at is, I do not want you to fight with him for honoring my decision to stay.
Please be safe, I’ll be thinking of you.
Je t’aime beaucoup.
Yours, France.”
Scotland folded the note back as tears welled up in his eyes. He felt a familiar hand on his shoulder. As he opened his eyes, he found it was England's hand. He'd known that, but hadn't expected it.
“We’ll get him back soon. Don’t worry,” England said stiffly, but Scotland appreciated the attempt at comforting.
Scotland sighed and wiped his eyes. For once, he smiled at his brother. “Thank you,” he said, before pulling into a brief hug.
-
The allied nations lost contact with France himself for 4 years due to heavy surveillance, but in 1944, England finally got something from him.
He did not tell his brother until after they were all reunited during the Normandy landings.
Scotland was furious with him, but at the same time very relieved for France's overdue safety.
The war in Europe ended in May of 1945.