There weren't too many reasons for an angel to fall from heaven; they could be cast out by God or refuse to return to him… Anything else offered salvation - a quiet return. Both reasons, all angles agreed, were part of the job description. Born as pure souls, forced to commingle with humans, getting dirtied by their emotions and sins- They all know, but said nothing. It wasn't fair that they were cast out because of of contamination…

Francis sighed, swirling wine around in it's glass. In his other hand was a pencil, with which he wrote his memories in a journal. As time passed, he was finding it harder and harder to remember things. He felt old, but there was a large gap in his memory…

It killed him inside. It felt like he was forgetting something, someone, important. His wife- Why were his memories of first meeting her so spotty too? All before a certain point - it was like they were enshrouded. His brows furrowed and he put the pencil down in favor of flipping through his past writings.

Back in his days in heaven, Francis had worked closely with the girl who ascended as an angel: Joan D'Arc. He admired her immensely, followed her passionately, and trusted her completely. She was fierce but loving, strong but gentle, kind but stern… He learnt a lot from being with her. If he had to pull human emotions into it, he could have easily said he loved her.

Centuries went by and he noticed she spent more and more time with the humans, watching them with ever changing eyes. She started losing feathers. Then one day, she went down to Earth - and never came back.

Francis was distraught. He begged and pleaded with God to bless her to come back. Instead of granting that wish, God kept the sorrowful angel in heaven with him for a long, long time.

Two friends of Francis, Gilbert and Antonio, felt bad for the distraught angel. They tried to cheer him up, but he wouldn't smile. He wouldn't for quite some time, actually.

Two centuries passed, Earth changed, and God finally allowed for Francis to return to his work. He flew down, numbly taking souls to heaven. What this feeling was, he didn't know. An emptiness, a dullness, a quietness - oppression making his work hard. All the while, questioning to himself: why had his father done this to him? To her?

He stood by the bed of an old woman, ready for her to pass and take her to the other side. She was asleep, kept alive in this state by a machine. What a shame, he mused. No one but him to be here for her parting… But just as he was thinking that, a young woman knocked on the door and poked her head in.

"Hello, Grandma~ How are you feeling today?"

Short, blond hair that barely fell to the nape of her neck. Bright blue eyes, pain forced to the deepest recesses as to not be seen. Lips that curled into a soft smile, resisting the urge to press together in worry. A voice bright and light, wavering slightly despite the attempt to keep it smooth. Delicate hands with calluses on her palms and fingers from hard work. A white blouse and pink skirt, feet awkward in matching flats…

It was her.

Francis stared as the girl moved to sit on the edge of the bed, taking her grandmother's hand carefully in her own.

"I'm well today. The garden's growing nicely. You should see the flowers; they're all in bloom. It's so beautiful… Papa worked late again today, so he's sleeping right now. I know he'd be here too if he weren't so tired..." She grew quiet for a moment before tears started welling in her eyes. "Oh please, God, take care of her. Angels in his care, look out for her in this troubling time. Protect her soul until she joins the ranks in heaven-"

The angle stepped closer to the girl, reaching out and barely brushing his fingers against her shoulder. She turned around and stared up at him in surprise, tears still rolling down her face. No words were spoken - a long silence filled the air.

"Joan?" He murmured softly, no doubt in his mind that it was her.

"H-how do you know my name?" Her voice was soft. Tense. She reached up to start wiping her face dry.

"You don't recognize me?"

She looked long and hard at him, sheepishly averting her gaze after trying to look him in the eye. "Sorry, but no…"

His gaze drifted to the side. Had she forgotten? Was she- Human now?

"Are you here to take her?" Joan whispered, looking back to her grandma.

"I am."

The girl nodded and leaned over, kissing the old woman on the cheek. "Okay. Thank you." With that, she started to leave.

"Wait!" Francis quickly reached out, grabbing her arm. "Don't go! I-" What was he going to say to her? Joan- He could feel his chest ache. "I'll be back." Her face contorted into worry. "No! Not for anyone- I mean, not to take anyone- I just-" He sputtered. "I'd like to see you again."

She gently took his hand and pulled his hand off her arm. Not coming for anyone, she thought to herself. Come just to see me? "I don't know…" She murmured doubtfully. She wasn't ready to go to heaven yet.

"Please?"

The hope in his voice and eyes made it impossible for her to say no. "O-okay. Meet me by the willow on the outskirts of town, then… Near the lake. Tomorrow at noon." She tilted her head away a little, shy from the angel's intensity, before quickly leaving.

She'll meet with me, he thought excitedly. She'll meet with me! But the happiness was dimmed a little when the beeping of the woman's heart monitor became one long drone. Work to do, then to see her. He went over to the woman, young and revitalized into her happiest memories, and took her hand.

"Are you ready to see God?"

He took a few more swigs of wine, letting it rest on his tongue for a moment. Joan liked this type of wine. It was an old, pink one. Maybe twenty, thirty, years old- About the time they met, if he remembered right. Which he had no clue if he was... Why couldn't he remember clearly? The memories seemed to fade more and more with the passing minute. His gaze drifted down to the floor, looking at a dirty, gray feather.

Noon came and Francis waited patiently, dipping his feet into the water. It was warmer than he expected it to be. He looked up at the sun and smiled guiltily. At least he didn't have work today…

He heard her come up beside him, slipping off her shoes and dipping her feet into the water as well. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her in a purple plaid t-shirt and jean shorts. More relaxed today.

"So tell me-" She started, not looking at him but at the water instead. "How did you know my name? You're an angel, right?"

"I am." He said, not looking at her either. His gaze stayed up at the sky. "I used to have a friend who looked a lot like you. Her name was Joan too." He paused. "She loved people a lot. So much that, I believe, she joined them, here on Earth. I haven't seen her in, oh- Maybe two or three centuries."

"Oh… I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay. I'm sure she's happy now, wherever she is..."

They were silent for a while, comfortable in it. Sometimes it was broken with a little conversation about her life. About his life. About Earth. About heaven. About God. About the past. About the future. And before they knew it, it was starting to get dark.

"I have to go home." She said. "Will I be able to see you again, Francis?"

He nodded. "Just call my name and I'll be there."

And he was.

5 years passed like this, the two growing closer and closer. Hands meeting, shyly at first, then bolder and firmer as they knew each other more and more. Kisses sneaked, first quick, then long and passionate. They were happiest when together. They didn't notice that the more time Francis spent in the human world, the less time he spent in heaven, the more feathers were falling off his wings.

But Gilbert had warning words after learning about his friend's love and seeing the change in him. "Be careful, Fran. If you love her too much, you won't be able to come back. You'll lose us and her."

But, feeling secure in what he was doing, he dismissed the warning. He didn't just dismiss his friend; he dismissed God's jealousy.

Joan, after being with Francis so long, started talking about marriage. Would he come to Earth, permanently, and stay with her? Get a job? Start a family? Raise kids? His heart skipped a beat at the question, but he already knew the answer: of course he would.

And so, shortly after her 24th birthday, they married. And finally, they made love. A few months passed and they learned she was expectant. They were ecstatic. He watched her closely, tended to her tenderly, and did his best to ease her discomfort. He rarely left her side. And at the end of the 9 months, when the baby was to be born, he saw the fruits of his labors.

It was a still born. Their baby dead before it could even take its first breath. He cried as he held his wife's hand, shouting to the doctor as Joan, too, seemed to fade before his eyes. Ah- So much blood. An angel, yet he was useless here. His chest felt like it had been torn apart.

Why, God? Hadn't you hurt me enough, taking her from me the first time? But again? Do you expect me to bring her to you? To let her join the ranks of souls I, as your servant, will never see again? What have I done but love you and follow you unconditionally since my existence? You have forsaken me the only thing I have ever wanted-

As he stood there, holding her limp hand, another angel appeared. Gilbert moved to stand by his friend's side. "I'm sorry."

Francis didn't say anything at first. He was silent. Then, realization hit him. This wasn't a friendly visit. He turned to him, angry tears in his eyes. "No- Don't you dare. Don't you dare take her from me."

Red eyes shifted to the side. "I tried to warn you." And with that, he took Joan's soul and started to fly away.

"GILBERT! GIL! YOU BRING HER BACK HERE! YOU BRING HER BACK RIGHT NOW!"

Francis tried to fly after him, but he didn't have enough feathers anymore. He'd got a few feet off the ground and then fall pitifully down. His voice grew raw from shouting for her. He fell to his knees, fists pounding against the floor. "Joan- Please come back."

He took his wine back into his hand, took a long gulp of it, then bent down to retrieve the feather. He held it in his hands, eyeballing it skeptically. Where did this come from? He looked around the room, feeling dimly like he could remember it's owner. Yet no face came to mind. Huh- He put it into his journal and closed the pages on it. Oh well. Maybe he'd remember later... Now, it was time for bed. Sleep- He could feel it. He needed it.

Francis retreated to his bedroom, looking over at the mirror on the vanity as he changed into pajamas. Two bony wings spread from his back, but he couldn't remember why there were there - let alone why nobody seemed to notice them. Oh well- Maybe the answer would come to him in a dream tonight… He prayed to God, his lost wife, and their baby, before lying down and drifting off to sleep.