Hello all!
So, I had a pair of parakeets. I named them Iggy and Bonnefoy, a green one and blue (respectively). Bonnefoy got very sick and passed away two years ago on Veterans Day. Well, unfortunately, his mate Iggy passed away very very suddenly at the beginning of this month. Almost two years apart to the day. I often used them as inspiration for my FrUk fics so, I wrote this one as a way of memorializing my two little birds, who I loved very much.
Enjoy, fave and comment!
A cool, yet not quite cold, breeze ghosted over Arthur's face. He lay flat on his back, on a smooth surface he could not quite figure out, granite perhaps or maybe marble. His mind was working annoyingly slow, having just come too. His body woke far soon, every breath of wind, every sound, every smell that wafted past him he sensed in sharp clarity. The sun directly overhead and, if he was to be honest, closer than he had ever realized it could be, stung his eyes with it's brightness. Had he been unconscious that long? He could have sworn it was raining just moments before.
Slowly, he endeavored to stand. He didn't feel an ounce of pain, not a stab or flicker, not even a mildly annoying twinge. But even so, he felt his way up tenderly, as if he was just learning to use his legs again. Finally, his brain seemed to be catching up and he began to look around. His surroundings were sharp, in vivid focus.
Arthur's now engaged brain registered with a fair amount of surprise that what he had taken for a marble slab was really a cozy patch of grass. Green as it was in any painting or imitation of life he'd seen. Like a picnic painting come to life. Circling around him were trees, beautiful, gloriously high trees. Oak, he was sure, a few maples. Strong, sturdy trees unlike to fall even in the roughest of storms. All the leaves, even from a distance of fifty yards at least, stood out. He could see a bug or two crawling about, munching on happily indifferent to the fact they were being watched.
The sky was perfect shade of blue, non threatening clouds floated lazily onward across it. A few birds, large and small flitted around. Arthur blinked once, twice, rubbed his eyes vigorously. Now his brain had fully caught up with him.
This was most definitely not the crowded, rainy, loud, smelly street in London he had been walking down. It felt like ages ago but he knew, somehow that it had only been a minute or two prior.
His senses being heightened, he heard the soft thumping of delicate footsteps drawing near. He didn't want to turn around, he knew without a doubt who it was. Who it absolutely had to be, coming to greet him. Here in this wondrous, heavenly place.
"Bonjour, Arthur."
Even though he had been expecting it, the sound of his lover's soft, gentle, caring voice saying his name took his breath from his chest. Involuntary tears sprung to his eyes as he whipped around, his eyes drinking in the details they had been deprived of for two long years.
Francis Bonnefoy was every bit as beautiful and amazing as Arthur remembered him. A few strands of his long hair danced playfully across his face in the breeze, his body lean and strong without being overly masculine. It was as if he had never been sick at all, like he had never been ravage and torn apart by that beast named cancer. As if death had not stolen him away from Arthur two long, painful years ago.
Arthur managed to work up a watery smile, taking one small shaky step towards Francis, hardly daring to believe it. "I… well, I suppose I must have been hit by that bus a bit harder than I thought." He said before launching himself at the Frenchman. He collided into a solid figure, not a ghost, not a specter of his imagination or a comma induced dream. A solid, tangible person to which he clung and promptly kissed hard on the lips.
The embrace was intimate, desperate and healing all at once. Arthur felt his own tears mingle with Francis' who kissed him back with the absent years worth of interest. Arthur soaked in the moment, only reluctantly pulling away so that he could look in those deep blue sapphires once more. Francis smiled and touched his cheek lovingly.
"You did not suffer, mon amour? Zhere was no pain or lingering?" He asked, Arthur could hear the anxiousness in his voice. He at once put his husband's mind at ease with a shake of his head.
"No, darling. All I remember is one moment I was on the sidewalk, walking along you know, and then there was a scream. I looked up in time to see the double decker hop the curb coming towards me and then nothing. I was waking up here in the grass." He replied, spilling out the story of his apparent death with the ease of telling someone how his day had gone. He raised an eyebrow, "This is Heaven then? Somehow I thought it be more… well… angelic? I see no Pearly Gates at any rate."
Francis laughed, the tension leaving him, "Non, zhink of zhis as zhe receiving bay. I am to escort you to Heaven."
"Where are your wings? I would expect you to have earned them by now." Arthur smirked playfully, taking Francis' hand in his. The Frenchman gave a short laugh with a small, patronizing shake of his head.
"I do not 'ave wings, only zhe Guardian Angels earn wings. I chose to be a Red String Angel upon my arrival." Francis replied, tugging gently on Arthur's hand, a signal they were to get going. Arthur began walking, with greater ease.
"A Red String Angel?"
"Oui, I tie zhe Red Strings of Fate around souls before zhey are sent down to earth. I am basically a soul matchmaker." He thrilled the last part out with a pride only he could muster and that Arthur had greatly missed. Arthur shook his head fondly.
"Honestly, I should have known." He chuckled.
It was in that moment that Arthur realized they were rising into the air. With every step they took, they went higher, like climbing a set of stairs. Instinctively, Arthur clutched onto Francis' arm, which he received a reassuring pat on. As they rose, Arthur felt strange. A sort of bittersweet melancholy stole over him, and he unwillingly looked behind him from some reason. A part of him wanted to stay in the grassy area, just for a little while longer. It felt safe and familiar.
Francis gripped him tighter, "Zhey are trying to revive you but zhe damage to your body was too severe. You can not return, or I would let you. I-I felt zhe pull too, when I flat-lined in zhe 'ospital. I-I heard you yelling for me, begging me. I wanted to go back but my escort said my time was done, zhat I couldn't."
Voice's, unfamiliar to him, clearly that of medical staff, were faintly audible. Arthur looked up to Francis with the deepest sympathy, imagining what that must have been like. If the pull to go back was this strong with mere strangers, how overwhelming was it with family members?
"Who was your escort, love?"
"Maman."
A silence fell over them. It wasn't a tense silence, more of an understanding silence. The somber feeling still gripped Arthur as the thought of those left behind drifted into his mind. He gasped, stopping in his tracks. Francis retained his firm hold on him, knowing what Arthur wanted to do more than anything.
"Matthew! Alfred! F-francis, sweetheart, I can't be here yet! They need me! They'll be orphans, I have to go back!" He cried. The grip became a vice as he pulled, pushed, did everything in his power to go back down. There had to be a way, he needed to go back. Yes, he wanted to see Francis but he HAD to go back to reality. "Let. Me. Go." He struggled.
Francis would not budge.
"Arthur, non. I-I, trust me, I would like nothing more zhen for you to go back and live. But… I-I can not. Your time 'as ended. This is as it was meant to be. Zhe boys, zhey will mourn, zhey will struggle but in zhe end, zhey will be alright." Francis said calmly, in the voice he used to use when telling Arthur he was going to beat the cancer. A naive sense of certainty that carried no lie at the time even though it had in fact turned out to have been a lie.
It had the desired effect however weak the true sentiment was. Arthur stopped pulling against him and turn to continue to rise. This was it. He was dead. Or dying. Both? Was it possible to be both dead and dying? His physical body was dead but his emotions were fighting the dying fight. He felt another pat on his arm.
"It was zhe same for me. Zhat is zhe reason people are sent escorts, to 'elp zhem pass on. You are doing wonderfully, mon amour. Just a little further and we will be zhere." Francis encouraged him.
Arthur merely nodded. He didn't know, or really think it was possible but he felt exhausted, drained from the roller coaster ride this ordeal had been. He had started his day perfectly normal and now he was climbing to heaven. It was a lot to take in, all at once.
They climbed higher and higher. Arthur was just beginning to wonder exactly how far they would climb when yet another strong emotion came over him. His worry and fear was gone, in the blink of an eye. In it's place rose calm and clarity. Even a purpose, a purpose he hadn't known he needed. But he knew, with the fibers of his deepest being that it was, had always been, what he was meant to do. Arthur smiled, his back straightened, and his fearful grip on Francis's arm became a light, loving hold. Francis paused a moment in their walk, floating in air, to lean over and kiss Arthur's forehead.
"And what Angel 'ave you decided to be, mon amour?"
"A Guardian."
The answer came freely, as if he had been mulling the whole question over for sometime. It surprised him, but pleased him at the same time. Francis kissed him on the lips and continued upward.
"Honestly, I should have known." He retorted back kindly. "Your pull to go back to take care of Alfred and Matthew was strong. It influenced your choice greatly. Just as my instinct to go back to you influenced mine. I wanted to share zhe love I 'ad with you, by letting others experience zhe same passion." Francis explained.
The light was growing stronger, it made Arthur's eyes water. He breathed in, clear and free. Like waking to a crisp, promising spring day.
"I really missed your waxing poetic, annoyingly chirpy and bright attitude. I missed you loads overall, wanker." He chuckled, the term endearing as any between them. As they stepped into an overwhelmingly bright light, Francis turned to him, smiling, taking his hand in his.
"I missed you too, Iggy."
The sound of a nickname reserved only for Francis's use, one that he had not heard in a very long time made Arthur's heart soar. Upwards he floated, along with Francis. Swirling, tangled together, inseparable as they had always been.
Everything was as it should be. Everything was right again.