Damn, I actually posted something.
Title: The Turn Around
Characters/Pairings: Prussia, implied Prussia/France, implied Prussia/Hungary, implied Prussia/Austria
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "Point is, they needed to get rid of me, couldn’t stomach killing me, and couldn’t afford to let me talk. So they give me the crazy label. Cute, huh?"
[Gilbert Weillschmidt appears healthier
than in past sessions. Progress
is suspected. Patient cooperation
is still reluctant]
[You wish to continue from our last session?]
Yeah. [he smiles] And just where the fuck was that again?
[We were talking about your brother…]
Germany.
[We’ve discussed this, Gilbert. Your brother’s name is Ludwig.]
Don’t fucking start that again. I’m getting really tired of explaining this shit to you people. His name is Germany.
[pause] [I believe we left off talking about some sense of guilt.]
No, fuck that. I’m not letting it drop again. [he leans forward aggressively] You’ve been making me use our goddamned human names, and it’s pissing me off.
[Because you are human.]
I’m not--- okay, fine. I am now. Because I lost. My land. My people. Think about it. If there were nations out there, nations that become human when they lose everything, what better way to get rid of them than to put them in an asylum? [he spreads his hand wide] Who brought me here? Fucking government men in fucking government suits. Sure, I have lots of other shit going on in my head, but you try to go through a few centuries of war and see how you come out. Point is, they needed to get rid of me, couldn’t stomach killing me, and couldn’t afford to let me talk. So they give me the crazy label. Cute, huh? [he smiles again] Fucking bastards.
[And to whom are you referring…?]
The Allies. Russia, England, America, China…
[…and France?]
Yeah. Him too.
[You seem very avoidant of that subject…]
I’m not avoidant. I just don’t want to talk about him.
[Can you possibly talk about the reason why, rather than about specifically him? I feel this is something we should explore.]
[he leans back in the couch and crosses his arms] You ever have one of those friends that you either really like or really fucking hate? And the good times are fucking good--- good fucking included---, but the bad times can get you killed? Then the bad times come, but you’re still kinda remembering the good times. You’ve got his blood on you, and you’re like “Well, fuck… how did this happen?” And he fucking shoots you, and for some goddamned stupid reason, you wanna kiss him.
[I’m afraid I can’t say I have a friend like that…] [pen scratching on paper] [This sounds as though it may be the root of some of the issues of trust that we also discussed with your brother…]
[a laugh] Man, if you’re looking for the root of my trust issues, you’re gonna have to go back further than that. I’ve always had them. ‘Course being a nation ain’t exactly helpful, you know? You fucking humans… You have any idea what we went through for our children? Any idea what the worst of you made us do? You wanna talk about France and my brother… Let’s talk about the lives I might have had with them, with Hungary, with Austria, with all of them if we didn’t have to give our lives to you.
And now I am human, and you’re still not letting me be free. I’m here in this fucking prison, this hospital. You’ll have your fucking chains around our necks for as long as we manage to live. It’s bullshit, you ungrateful fuck. You’re sitting there trying to evaluate someone who shot up half the world trying to keep you safe from the men on the outside and the ambition on the inside.
So no. I’m not a trusting person.
[And Ludwig? Was he a trusting person? Was…] [pause] […France?]
[a shrug] Germany is to an extent. At least, he is with me. I’m his big brother. He gets pissed at me, and we’ve gotten into some legit out-for-blood fights before, but we’re close. Yeah, he trusts me.
France… Fuck, I thought I said I didn’t want to talk about him.
[Perhaps one of the other… nations… would be an easier subject to start with?]
No, fuck it. I wanna talk about them even less. Some of them cuz I hate them, some of them because I love them more. You want to take up a full session on one person, bring up Hungary or Austria. That’ll give you some material, I’m sure. Not as much as when we were going over Germany, mind you, but still a fucking lot. Christ, I guess I really do have to talk about France, don’t I? If we talk about Hungary and Austria, I might as round out all the loves and hates of my life…
How much you know about history?
[What era?]
Let me rephrase that. How much do you know about France? Because, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, he fucking is France. Put all that history you know into a too-attractive-and-charming-for-own-good blonde, and you’ve got him.
If you know anything about me, about Prussia, then you’ve got both of us. Think of the alliances and the wars. They line up pretty nicely with the good times and bad times I was talking about earlier. Don’t get me wrong… we were more friends than lovers, but it was still there. Way too fucking there. Bad for your health, you know? Never shoulda let it get as far as it did.
[In what way?]
Fuck… Well… Instead of fucking and then becoming friends, we became friends and then fucked. That never ends well unless you’re planning on being exclusive, and exclusive ain’t exactly in our blood. Can’t be if you’re gonna be as friendly or cruel as your bosses want. Add in a few wars, various chest wounds, head wounds, purposefully targeted human friends in the ranks, and uh, you’ve got the makings of a rocky relationship.
[And you blame him for sending you here?]
I’d like too. [his smile is sarcastic] But it wasn’t just him, was it? Nah, I can’t blame him completely… But he could have fucking said something. Son of bitch… He’s left here to rot. At least Germany tried.
[shuffling of papers] [I’ve checked the logs from the past two weeks… You still haven’t had any visitors.]
‘Course not. They can’t come here. Part of the beauty is convincing me that I’m insane. If they show up, they’ll remind me that they’re real. You lot can’t do your job if they fuck up the progress, right?
[Where did you meet France?]
Fuck, I don’t remember.
[And your brother? Were you there when he was born?]
[he glares] We’ve been over this. You ain’t gonna trick me, asshole. My brother wasn’t born. None of us were, except maybe Greece and Egypt. I found Germany. He was a little kid wandering around in the woods. Almost walked into a fucking battle. I grabbed him from my horse and got the hell out of there.
[Gilbert, I’d like to show you something] [a piece of paper is exchanged] [That is a copy of your brother’s birth certificate, dated twenty-two years ago.]
It’s fake. [he crumples it and throws it to the side] No shit, they’d come up with fake paperwork. They aren’t retarded. They knew you’d have to look me up when I got admitted. It’d be too fucking obvious if I didn’t have records of a family somewhere. Though I guess they could blame that on the war.
[a second copy is placed on the table in front of the patient] [I’m going to leave this copy with you to take back to your room. I want you to look at it. We’ll discuss it more at our next session.]
[there is a long silence] I think I remember where I met France now. Francis, if you’re gonna keep tossing around human names. Don’t know why I’m giving you more ammo, but… I called him that a lot anyway.
It was sunny, and I was walking along the French border… He shouted down at me from this hill thing. Bastard was always smiling. Didn’t even flinch when I pulled my sword. He just laughed and introduced himself… asked if I was the one causing all the commotion. [a softer smile] I was. Duh.
[How do you feel about this man now? You never specified.]
I… I dunno. Can’t pick. Either way, I guess it’s enough to… say I miss him.
[the scratching of the pen stops] [I believe this is a good place to stop for now. We’ll pick up again after lunch. Is that all right?]
[he grins, but it rings a little false] Fuck yeah. Get me out of this room.
x
xx
x
End session [Gilbert Weillschmidt]
19th February, 1947
Dr. Francis Bonnefoy, MD, PhD
Characters/Pairings: Prussia, implied Prussia/France, implied Prussia/Hungary, implied Prussia/Austria
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "Point is, they needed to get rid of me, couldn’t stomach killing me, and couldn’t afford to let me talk. So they give me the crazy label. Cute, huh?"
[Gilbert Weillschmidt appears healthier
than in past sessions. Progress
is suspected. Patient cooperation
is still reluctant]
[You wish to continue from our last session?]
Yeah. [he smiles] And just where the fuck was that again?
[We were talking about your brother…]
Germany.
[We’ve discussed this, Gilbert. Your brother’s name is Ludwig.]
Don’t fucking start that again. I’m getting really tired of explaining this shit to you people. His name is Germany.
[pause] [I believe we left off talking about some sense of guilt.]
No, fuck that. I’m not letting it drop again. [he leans forward aggressively] You’ve been making me use our goddamned human names, and it’s pissing me off.
[Because you are human.]
I’m not--- okay, fine. I am now. Because I lost. My land. My people. Think about it. If there were nations out there, nations that become human when they lose everything, what better way to get rid of them than to put them in an asylum? [he spreads his hand wide] Who brought me here? Fucking government men in fucking government suits. Sure, I have lots of other shit going on in my head, but you try to go through a few centuries of war and see how you come out. Point is, they needed to get rid of me, couldn’t stomach killing me, and couldn’t afford to let me talk. So they give me the crazy label. Cute, huh? [he smiles again] Fucking bastards.
[And to whom are you referring…?]
The Allies. Russia, England, America, China…
[…and France?]
Yeah. Him too.
[You seem very avoidant of that subject…]
I’m not avoidant. I just don’t want to talk about him.
[Can you possibly talk about the reason why, rather than about specifically him? I feel this is something we should explore.]
[he leans back in the couch and crosses his arms] You ever have one of those friends that you either really like or really fucking hate? And the good times are fucking good--- good fucking included---, but the bad times can get you killed? Then the bad times come, but you’re still kinda remembering the good times. You’ve got his blood on you, and you’re like “Well, fuck… how did this happen?” And he fucking shoots you, and for some goddamned stupid reason, you wanna kiss him.
[I’m afraid I can’t say I have a friend like that…] [pen scratching on paper] [This sounds as though it may be the root of some of the issues of trust that we also discussed with your brother…]
[a laugh] Man, if you’re looking for the root of my trust issues, you’re gonna have to go back further than that. I’ve always had them. ‘Course being a nation ain’t exactly helpful, you know? You fucking humans… You have any idea what we went through for our children? Any idea what the worst of you made us do? You wanna talk about France and my brother… Let’s talk about the lives I might have had with them, with Hungary, with Austria, with all of them if we didn’t have to give our lives to you.
And now I am human, and you’re still not letting me be free. I’m here in this fucking prison, this hospital. You’ll have your fucking chains around our necks for as long as we manage to live. It’s bullshit, you ungrateful fuck. You’re sitting there trying to evaluate someone who shot up half the world trying to keep you safe from the men on the outside and the ambition on the inside.
So no. I’m not a trusting person.
[And Ludwig? Was he a trusting person? Was…] [pause] […France?]
[a shrug] Germany is to an extent. At least, he is with me. I’m his big brother. He gets pissed at me, and we’ve gotten into some legit out-for-blood fights before, but we’re close. Yeah, he trusts me.
France… Fuck, I thought I said I didn’t want to talk about him.
[Perhaps one of the other… nations… would be an easier subject to start with?]
No, fuck it. I wanna talk about them even less. Some of them cuz I hate them, some of them because I love them more. You want to take up a full session on one person, bring up Hungary or Austria. That’ll give you some material, I’m sure. Not as much as when we were going over Germany, mind you, but still a fucking lot. Christ, I guess I really do have to talk about France, don’t I? If we talk about Hungary and Austria, I might as round out all the loves and hates of my life…
How much you know about history?
[What era?]
Let me rephrase that. How much do you know about France? Because, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, he fucking is France. Put all that history you know into a too-attractive-and-charming-for-own-good blonde, and you’ve got him.
If you know anything about me, about Prussia, then you’ve got both of us. Think of the alliances and the wars. They line up pretty nicely with the good times and bad times I was talking about earlier. Don’t get me wrong… we were more friends than lovers, but it was still there. Way too fucking there. Bad for your health, you know? Never shoulda let it get as far as it did.
[In what way?]
Fuck… Well… Instead of fucking and then becoming friends, we became friends and then fucked. That never ends well unless you’re planning on being exclusive, and exclusive ain’t exactly in our blood. Can’t be if you’re gonna be as friendly or cruel as your bosses want. Add in a few wars, various chest wounds, head wounds, purposefully targeted human friends in the ranks, and uh, you’ve got the makings of a rocky relationship.
[And you blame him for sending you here?]
I’d like too. [his smile is sarcastic] But it wasn’t just him, was it? Nah, I can’t blame him completely… But he could have fucking said something. Son of bitch… He’s left here to rot. At least Germany tried.
[shuffling of papers] [I’ve checked the logs from the past two weeks… You still haven’t had any visitors.]
‘Course not. They can’t come here. Part of the beauty is convincing me that I’m insane. If they show up, they’ll remind me that they’re real. You lot can’t do your job if they fuck up the progress, right?
[Where did you meet France?]
Fuck, I don’t remember.
[And your brother? Were you there when he was born?]
[he glares] We’ve been over this. You ain’t gonna trick me, asshole. My brother wasn’t born. None of us were, except maybe Greece and Egypt. I found Germany. He was a little kid wandering around in the woods. Almost walked into a fucking battle. I grabbed him from my horse and got the hell out of there.
[Gilbert, I’d like to show you something] [a piece of paper is exchanged] [That is a copy of your brother’s birth certificate, dated twenty-two years ago.]
It’s fake. [he crumples it and throws it to the side] No shit, they’d come up with fake paperwork. They aren’t retarded. They knew you’d have to look me up when I got admitted. It’d be too fucking obvious if I didn’t have records of a family somewhere. Though I guess they could blame that on the war.
[a second copy is placed on the table in front of the patient] [I’m going to leave this copy with you to take back to your room. I want you to look at it. We’ll discuss it more at our next session.]
[there is a long silence] I think I remember where I met France now. Francis, if you’re gonna keep tossing around human names. Don’t know why I’m giving you more ammo, but… I called him that a lot anyway.
It was sunny, and I was walking along the French border… He shouted down at me from this hill thing. Bastard was always smiling. Didn’t even flinch when I pulled my sword. He just laughed and introduced himself… asked if I was the one causing all the commotion. [a softer smile] I was. Duh.
[How do you feel about this man now? You never specified.]
I… I dunno. Can’t pick. Either way, I guess it’s enough to… say I miss him.
[the scratching of the pen stops] [I believe this is a good place to stop for now. We’ll pick up again after lunch. Is that all right?]
[he grins, but it rings a little false] Fuck yeah. Get me out of this room.
x
xx
x
End session [Gilbert Weillschmidt]
19th February, 1947
Dr. Francis Bonnefoy, MD, PhD