Francois isn't sure how long he stays in the blackness, but he feels at ease inside of it. It's comforting in a way he didn't know such darkness could be. It covers his body and holds him close like nothing would ever be able to hurt him as long as he just kept still. That feeling didn't last. He could feel a pull of something, begging him to go to them and to help, to do something. He blinks his eyes, looking into the darkness, seeing the foggy outline of something on the ground. He walks slowly towards it, looking down once he gets close enough.

He can feel something inside of them ceasing to exist. They try to breathe but their lungs are breaking. Francois gulps and leans down, placing a gentle hand on their arm. He jerks back startled when they sigh against him, and a misty form appears over their body. The small winged creature flutters around his face then flies off. Francois lazily picks himself up to follow. The creature leads him to a small clearing. He walks to the center of it where an odd object is sticking out of the ground. It's small, a wooden handle and a sharp blade at the end. He picks it up off the ground, then turns to give the small creature an incredulous look.

The insect flutters around some more, waiting for something. Francois sighs and inspects the object. He swings it across in front of him and drops it entirely when the air rips open in front of him to reveal a purple mass into a new area. The insect flies straight into it and the rip seals without any notice. Francois catches his breath, staring down at the object that ripped open the sky. He picks it back up in his hand and he can feel the power inside of it. It calls for him to follow. He shudders at the idea.

Instantly the blackness comes to him, it shrouds his being, wrapping around him and cloaking him in black. He tugs it closer, anything to feel some sort of comfort in the loneliness. A part of him tugs, it pulls him to move forward. He sniffs, having a stray tear escape. The tool in his hand pulls him once more and he steps off to a new area. The darkness moves him to where he needs to be. He feels sick in his stomach, but he follows the tool, and lets it guide him to what he needs to do.


Francois sees many kings die. He's not sure how to feel about it. He wonders if he should try to do something for them, to let them live longer or give them those few last moments of life to give them the peace they need. He doesn't though. It's not his job to make them happy. He just has to wait for the soul to move on and be happy with the state of the area they used to control. Then he can open the sky and let them through.

He places his head on the just deceased king and lets their soul fly out. The small creature shifts back into the form of the man. Francois watches as he places one last kiss to the top of his wife's head and Francois sneers at the action. He opens the rift and lets the soul be pulled through.

Every so often a soul will wait for another to go with them in peace. Sometimes it takes years, sometimes days. Francois sees them all. He doesn't know how some of them can stay for that long. All the souls have memories of all their lives before, and to wait just this specific time for another is odd to him. They have a new life to begin, why wait for this one. He grits his teeth ignoring the pit of loneliness that wants to explode inside of him.


War is something Francois doesn't understand and wishes he would never see again. He walks the battlefield slowly, stopping every so often to let a soul pass on, gaining a small collection of moths above him. He can feel the death crawling over the surface of the earth and it calls to him. He wants to make it stop but he knows, he knows so well that there is no other way. He shuts his eyes tight, wanting nothing more than to know that this would never happen again.

It will. He can feel it inside of him. He knows of all the deaths that will come and he knows this won't be the end of the slaughter these humans will inflict upon themselves. It makes him bitter in that moment. All these wonderful things the humans can do and they choose to destroy themselves. Francois barely touches another body, finding himself thinking the humans deserved it.

Once all the souls are flying in the sky, he takes his dagger and rips a whole open. They flutter inside and disappear. One last little moth flies around his head once then leaves him. He sneers at the action. He doesn't need the souls pity. Some do that, stay for him just a little while longer to see if he is okay. They never last. They leave him and he rather they did. Hanging onto a soul that can leave him would hurt too much. He's not stupid enough to allow that to happen.


Clovis didn't have a lot, in fact, he and his family had next to nothing. He stands from his spot on the farm to look back towards the house. His wife is there smiling at him as she cuddles the baby close. He relaxes for a moment, taking in her beauty. Life is hard on them, having barely any food to survive and selling just enough to make it through the day. Winter is coming and there is a chance they may not last through this one.

He picks up his tools once more and keeps going. He will go for her. She gave him a chance when no one else did and he's doing his best to keep her happy. She loves him and he will love her with everything he has. He will do everything in his power to make her happy and give her the love she deserves. And she deserves so much more than the life he's given her. He promises to make it better.


The amount of time Francois has been around has always been blurry in his head. He tries to never keep track of the days that go by. Knowing just how long he's been on his own doesn't sound appealing to him. Time has always been shifting beneath him anyway. But the humans have made time, made a term to keep track of the length of how long the sun has revolved around them. Against his better judgment he listens in and hates himself for it. Nearly a thousand years has he been on his own and now it hurts.

He narrows his eyes and leaves the hall of aristocrats in a huff. He knew he shouldn't have listened but his curiosity got the better of him. He leans up against a random tree to collect himself. He can't continue on working in the rut he is now. He tries to block the knowledge from fully settling in him. He's been alone this whole time and there is no reason for it to affect him now. Yet all he wants to do is disappear to somewhere warm and lovely. He hates it.

The next death he visit is a brutal one and he almost feels relieved at seeing the death happen. Had there been someone with him they would have surely tried to stop him from making it worse. He didn't need that kind of compassion or pity. He is perfectly fine on his own and will continue to do so for as long as the world is dying.


Seeing the other reaper put Francois in dizzy. Seeing someone who did the same thing he did almost made him tear up. Seeing he isn't alone in the world, seeing someone else who can also see him, makes him question everything. He shakes those thoughts out of his head. They are both here on business and he does not plan to make friends now.

"Oh hello," The other reaper comes up to him in the middle of the battlefield. Francois regards the shorter reaper coldly not knowing anything else. They are dressed in black as well, though their outfit is more like grey than anything. They carry a small knife in their hand. Francois just grunts in reply, ripping open the air for the souls to go through.

"My name is Oliver," They say. Francois sighs and faces them again, looking over the pretend cheerful look on their face. Or is it real, he's not sure and he doesn't care. He's seen this reaper before actually. The region of death he is in charge seems to have some sort of endless qwerl with his. This is just the first time they have had the nerve to talk to him.

"Okay," He says back to them and walks away. He ignores their call to wait and moves to his next pull of death. There is no point in making friends with other reapers. They'll only see each other for a few minutes every hundred years or so, and he doesn't want to look forward to that.


"Joan," Her mother says to her. Joan looks up from her spot on the floor. Her mother smiles down at her and she smiles back. She listens carefully as her mother tells her she will do great things with their country. She keeps quiet, not telling her mother that god has already spoken to her about this.

One day soon, she will take up a sword and protect her country more fiercely than anyone has ever before. She knows what she must do. When her mother is done talking she nods her head, telling her that she understands. There is nothing more that she loves than her country and she will see to it that it is taken care of.


"It's okay that you don't want to talk to me," Oliver says when they see each other again. Francois grimaces in annoyance at him. He doesn't want to interact with this other reaper. He doesn't want to interact with anyone. Still, Oliver came to him when he saw him and tried his hardest to converse though it usually ends with Francois leaving without a word.

"Can I know your name? Please?" He stops when Oliver steps into his path. He blinks down at the reaper and sneers. There is absolutely no point in knowing each other and yet he's trying so hard.

"You're the only other person I see," Oliver admits quietly and Francois sighs. He may not like interacting, but this reaper does, and they are taking it a lot harder than he is. He rubs the back of his head.

"Francois," He tells him gruffly. Oliver's face lights up and he wraps Francois in a quick hug that makes him jerk back. Oliver doesn't seem to notice giggling happily and then running off and into the blackness. Francois shudders at the action, having never been hugged before.

His shudder shifts the darkness around him, making it more form fitting into a uniform of the people his region is over. He looks himself up and down, wondering why exactly the blackness shifted for him. His small dagger scythe has changed, making it longer and sharper like the swords of the people. He sighs, not knowing exactly why, but not caring to change the new outfit. Not like anyone will care.


"I am not afraid," Joan told the people behind her. "I was born to do this." She hoists her sword up to hold in front of her, her armor glittering in the sun light. The ranks behind her yell with her and she guides them forward with the hand of god keeping her steady.

Some may have laughed but none of them are laughing now as she shows them exactly what god had told her to do when she was younger. This is what she was born to do and she will do it forever if she has to. She loves her country and will never see it fall.


Francois watches almost bored as they tie the young woman up to the stake. He's heard about her and he dare say he kind of admires her strength. He swallows down the part of him that wishes he could make this not the way she dies. She's so young and she doesn't deserve such a death. But it is life.

The pyre is lit and he doesn't know what compels him to move but he does. He walks through the crowd, knowing they won't see him, and straight through the flames. He covers her eyes with his hand, letting the flames lick her body but not letting her feel any of the pain that goes with it. People scream and yell aloud for her to make a noise but she does not, simply breathing in and out and until her body feels too weak to continue.

He backs away from the flames, letting her be burned in peace now with her soul not attached. The small moth flies to him, circling his head before shifting form. He expects the young woman to run or to leave him to search for someone else but she just stands and stares at him. She does so until her body behind her is unrecognizable, her expression changing from confusion to understanding.

"You are sad," She says to him. He raises an eyebrow to that not knowing where on the living world she would have gotten that idea. He takes out his sword ready to cut the air when she places a gentle hand on his arm.

"Why are you so sad?" He shakes her off. She doesn't look hurt by his actions, just more curious than anything. He blinks at her and takes a deep breath.

"Young ones should not die," He says. A small smile graces her features.

"I am old enough to know I am okay." Francois grits his teeth. He doesn't really want to sit here and chat with a soul for very long. He has other places to be.

"You have not answered me," She says stepping closer. He flinches out of instinct, bringing his arms closer to his body. Her eyes widen and a pained look crosses her face. Francois gulps at the innocence this soul still has. It is not very old, and still naïve as he used to be. She looks at the ground before looking back at him with a new determination.

"I love my country more than anything, and one day I will come back for you to love you more than anything." Francois is put off by her conviction and the small crease in her brows that sets in stone the seriousness she feels. He whips his sword down cutting the air and allowing the soul to go through, but she doesn't move to the rip. She stays in her human form to give him a mild tempered glare.

"I will come back to you," She says. Francois can't help but stare at her, her soul rejecting the pull of the other side.

"Believe me sad one," She says coming another step closer. The rip waivers and her body lurches but she keeps walking to him. She places a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Do not lose hope," then she loses her ground. Her soul is dragged through the rip. Francois finds himself reaching out a hand to the open air that just closed with a small pain in his chest. He reels back quickly enough, stalking off to a new spot of death. He shakes his head roughly. Promises are fake and for the humans. He will take no part in them.


The years following the death of Joan of Arc, the region Francois is in charge goes into mourning. They loved the young girl and Francois grits his teeth of every passing instance of her name. Every moment of his existence is spent remembering the way she looked at him and it drives him up the wall in anger.

She made a measly little promise about him and coming back and he doesn't believe it. There is no way one soul would be able to make it back to him, and remember after all this time what they said. He will not believe it. He will not allow himself to hope that much that someone out there cares enough about him for that.

He is a reaper of souls and they do not work with others. They do not have friends or lovers or anything like that. They have death and sadness. Francois places his hand to the arm of a young boy who got too sick one night and the family did not have enough money to cover the medical expenses. Francois makes his last few moments bearable as the family cries.

He waits for the soul to finish crying as well. The moth shifted into the boy instantly, holding onto his mother tight and trying to tell her in vain that he would see her again and that everything would be okay.

Francois leaves them when he feels the tug, going to another part of his region where a old woman is about die with her husband's soul sitting next to her already. He helps her into death as soon as he's allowed.

"Thank you for letting me wait for her," The man says once his wife is in his arms. Francois bows his head simply, gritting his teeth the whole time. He makes a rip and the souls leave. He clenches tight to his sword scythe, feeling the anger inside of him. He takes the back of a random chair in hand and throws it wildly. It crashes against the wall alerting the housekeeper downstairs. He walks off when they start to exclaim about the dead woman on the bed.

Francois can feel deep inside him the pain he feels, and he will ignore it. The promises of a ignorant little girl will not affect him.


Marianne giggles as another boy places a flower on her head. She smiles pretty for them and they laugh like she just chose them for later in life. She doesn't mind. To her it is all fun and games. She doesn't know why but she can feel deep inside her that there is someone out there who needs more love than anyone else in the world. She can't wait to find them and show them how much love she can give them.

She's called to dinner and she blows a few kisses for the boys, ignoring the improper looks that the elder women give her. She'll be scolded for it at home for sure but it means very little to her. Her heart is strong and she will give out as much love as she sees fit. And right now there is too little in the world.


He didn't know what to expect upon seeing Oliver again, but the smaller reaper pulled him in for a hug as soon as he could reach him. Francois tries to push him away put Oliver holds on tight. With a rough shove is he able to get the other off him.

"What happened?" Oliver asks, jumping right back into his bubble. Francois twists up his face in confusion causing Oliver to place his hands on his hips.

"Don't pretend not to know, you look worse than usual." Oliver places a hand on his forehead and Francois pushes him away yet again. He doesn't need this kind of pity. He begins to do his job while Oliver prattles on behind him about how unhealthy it is to keep his emotions locked inside. The chiding begins to grate on his nerves.

"Look," Francois interrupts him. Oliver stops short, covering his mouth with his hands like he said the wrong words. To Francois, he may as well have.

"I don't care about emotions or anything like that. I have a job to do and so do you." He spits out and goes back to helping the souls leave their bodies. He ignores the small twinge in his heart when Oliver sniffles.

"That's so sad," he says. Francois snaps up immediately, looking at Oliver like he burned him. The words sound too familiar. In a panic, Francois jumps away from where he is a to a new area, leaning down in the grass and breathing heavily. He grips his hands into the dirt. It hurts him somewhere inside. He doesn't want to believe in the promise given to him. No amount of sadness will change that.


"I said no!" Marianne stomps her foot like stubborn child to the proposal once again thrown in her face. She's lost count of how many times this insufferable man has asked her to marry him. Every time she has denied him her love. He does not deserve it in the slightest. Her heart belongs to another, a young stable boy farther north who is sweeter than any aristocrat who thinks she may be worth their time.

Her anger turns to fear as the man lunges for her. She screams and kicks as hard as she can but she can't pry the hands off her neck. She fights only to have the air choked form her body. She inhales as hard as she can and then feels nothing. She feels light as she flies away from her body, shifting back to a human form outside of her house. She feels tears in her eyes and she holds her hands to her throat. She takes a deep breath and looks up at the tall man in front of her. She gasps at seeing them so suddenly.

"Sorry," They mumble out, for what she's not sure. Her soul feels light, and she remembers seeing someone like this before. She steps closer to the man and reaches her hands up to remove their fur hood from their face. They let her and already she can tell this is not who she's looking for though they look the same.

"You should not cover your face so much, how can you see?" She teases a little. The man, the reaper she guesses, looks away a little shyly causing her to giggle.

"Do you know another reaper? Perhaps a blonde one? Kind of sad as well," She rambles a little as she walks into the woods. While part of her wants to see her reaper again, this life wants to see her stable boy until he passes. The reaper follows her, shaking his head.

"There is another reaper I know, who knows more, maybe he can help," They tell her in a grumble. He explains how to find the other and she laughs again, thanking him greatly with a kiss to the top of his head like a mother. She waves bye, smiling more at the gentle blush on his cheeks. Oh how she wishes he could find love too.


Seeing the sky covered black with ash from the canons makes him hurt inside. Even after all these years of seeing the war and strife, and even though it gives him something to do, it's not his favorite thing in the world. Francois waits for it all to be over, not moving from his spot on the edge of the battlefield until it's called to an end. He cannot be hurt if he is to be struck by a sword, but he does not care to be stabbed by one anyway.

Once all the living are far away does he walk to collect those who have died. There are a few younger ones on the grass that make his heart pound. He doesn't believe the young ones should be put through this and yet here they are. None are as young as she was though. He growls to himself at the random memory of her. He hates to think of her, he hates to think of what she told to him.

Even though he tries not to, thinking of her happens naturally. She made an impression on him and she's stuck with him. The world has been cruel in every aspect he has seen, and yet she had such stubborn kindness in her. It makes him ache and he just wants the pain to end.


Josephine wipes her face as best she can with her already soaked dress. She feels pain inside as the cold wraps around her body.

"Papa," She cries out, reaching out a hand. Her father cradles her close but she still hurts. She tells him so and he tells her it will be over soon. She hopes so, the chains on her ankles are starting to freeze to her skin. She trembles in her father's hold, feeling him start to stiff. She only has the energy to cry a little more when she suddenly can't feel nothing at all.

She crashes straight into her father's arms when she opens her eyes again. There is a man next to them, smiling a little and covered in black furs. She doesn't know him, but she can tell she knows one like him, somewhere.

"Do you know other reapers?" She asks in her tiny voice though she feels as old as ages. The man raises an eyebrow at her question then nods his head with a smile.

"Yeah, they are across the ocean," He tells her and she sighs. It's not much help, but it is a closer start to where she might need to be. She smiles up at the spirit of her father who smiles down at her and they go through the rip together.


"Francois!" He groans at the cheerful call of his name, preparing his face to grimace when Oliver crashes into him for a hug. The moment he can get his hands in the right spot he pushes the reaper away from him. Why Oliver felt the need to hug him or even smile around him made him annoyed. Francois sighs and lets Oliver pull him to a different area.

Oliver takes him to two other beings. One of them is in a black uniform styled to his own with a scythe sword as well. Their hair is longer and silver. Next him is a small boy with unruly curly yellow hair and a black covering. Francois raises an eyebrow to the kid, half expecting it to be a soul who needs some more time, but upon seeing the small dagger attached to his side, he thinks otherwise.

"This is Klaus and Lutz," Oliver introduces them though he's not sure why. He may see these reapers again, but that doesn't mean he has to know all of them. The one gestured to as Klaus nods his head, waving his hand about in a hello sort of manner. The young boy glares up at him, sticking his tongue out. Francois narrows his eyes slightly, almost enjoying the frightened look the boy gives back to him.

"I hope this ends soon," Oliver says quietly. Klaus nods his head in agreement, using his hand to make more movements for words. Francois sighs. He knows it won't end. He can feel death in his being, and it will never stop. There is too much hate in the world.


Louis gulps as the other boys pull him along. His best friend snickers and squeezes his hand tighter. He has a hard time keeping the blush off his face. They stop at the edge of the lake and strip down. Louis doesn't know why but he feels the need to avert his eyes. It doesn't feel right looking at his friends when it makes him feel so bubbly inside.

"Louis come on you pansy!" Jeremy shouts to him, splashing a bit of the water up. Louis sticks his tongue out at him blindly, tearing off the rest of his clothes and cannonballing in. He shakes his head once he surfaces, laughing wildly with the rest of them. Jeremy swims over to him, giggling maniacally and grabs his hand under the water. Louis doesn't feel the need to tell him he can swim fine on his own, because this feels like a little more than that.


He's not sure why the darkness pulled him to this new land. The reaper of this region would collect the souls eventually. Francois walks along the rows of the dying, looking down at their faces and wondering why this battle happened. Did he even want to know what caused such a calamity? He sighs and kneels down next a person whose breathing has become haggard. He places a hand on their arm, giving them a few seconds of ease until another reaper comes for their soul.

"Hey," Francois looks up lazily to the reaper standing there. This one has a small axe shaped scythe in his hand, and a black coat made of furs. Francois backs away from the body, letting the other closer to place a hand on their head and let the soul come out in the shape of a butterfly. Francois grimaces at the sight, wondering why he got the moth instead.

"I'm Allen," The reaper introduces himself, not offering a hand in greeting. Francois doesn't entirely mind, he wouldn't have shaken it anyway. He debates for a second, wondering if he should say his name back when the reaper calls out to another. Francois watches Allen run to a tall reaper in a coat as well, longer, but still made of furs. He looks tired with his long hair pulled back in a red ribbon.

Francois grips his sword tight when they get closer. Another introduction is made by Allen and Francois merely tips his head, almost shocked when the taller does the same, not saying a word either. The three of them stand at the edge of the battlefield once all the soul are back where they need to be. It's almost peaceful now, staring out at the ocean. In that moment, he thinks of her. Francois shuts his eyes tight.

There will never be peace inside him. No matter how calm the world may seem and how apathetic he may want to be, he knows it's cruel. There is no love without hate. He turns back to the dead behind him. How someone could live happily like this, he'll never know.


With Jeremy's hand in his, Louis runs. Someone caught them being a little more than friends and the only choice they have is leaving. Louis wipes at his face, trying to keep his eyes clear as they run away from home. Jeremy squeezes his hand, pulling him just a little more.

How the world could be so cruel just because of who they liked Louis isn't sure but he wants it to change. He shouldn't have to run from his family who told him he would go to hell. He and his lover shouldn't have to hide everything they are in order to live. It's painful to think he'd have to hide forever.

When they come to a stop Louis pulls Jeremy close, crying softly into his shoulder. Jeremy whispers into his hair about what they are going to do. It does little for his fears, but knowing Jeremy would be with him, to make everything less lonely, makes it just a little bit better.


Something about this riot resonated with him. Francois could feel it in his bones that these people had enough of whatever their leaders threw at them. Change has come and he's almost excited to see what the people do. He can feel their anger inside him and he skews the line. Just a little, but making sure that footing isn't as stable, and that doors aren't locked as they ought to be.

When the king is brought forth and the people are cheering, yelling, shouting for the death, Francois feels it. Usually people fear death, they do not want it, but they are almost calling to him now. He stands right by the executioner, waiting with his sword in front of him to do his own job once this one is over. He doesn't stop it, and he doesn't take away the pain.

He nudges the headless body with his foot, letting the soul be pried out of what remains. The moth shifts into the form of the king, who shouts loudly though no one can hear him that he is sorry for his actions. Francois glares, if the king truly meant his words, he wouldn't have done what he did in the first place. Francois swings his sword, letting the soul be dragged back into the other world as the people calm and think about what they are to do now that they have some moments of peace. For once, Francois feels just a little of the peace with them. Though in his body he can tell it will get worse before it gets better.

He hangs his head when he knows this peace is what that soul would have wanted. The fighting to stop, and the world to just rest easy. He sighs, wishing he could understand. But that warmth is not for him, and he dreads deep down the soul has forgotten him. After all, it's been nearly 360 years.


Even after all this time, Louis still got the bubble of excitement in his stomach when Jeremy pulls him close and kisses him sweetly. He smiles up at his secret lover, admiring the crinkles he now has and how age suits him well. They've lived in secret for as long as they can remember, passing off as two long term friends instead of more. Jeremy laughs and swings him about, dancing around their small room without a care in the world. To have no one questioning their relationship anymore is like a breath of fresh air.

Late that night Louis runs his fingers through his lover's hair, answering quickly when Jeremy tells him he loves him. He closes his eyes and feels the breath in Jeremy's body slowly come to a halt. A bittersweet smile crosses his face knowing he will join him soon enough. They've lived happily and he's okay letting go now. He takes one last deep breath and an overwhelming sense of peace comes over him.

To see his love looking sharp as he did in their younger days fills Louis with joy. He hugs him tight in their spirit form, smiling next to the ginger haired man in a black suit vest near them. Louis laughs into the sweet kisses on his cheeks when the memories resurface.

"Wait!" He interrupts the man about to cut the air with a small knife. The reaper smiles at him, nodding his head for him to continue.

"Do you know another reaper? A sad looking one? I need to find him." Somewhere inside Louis can feel the sadness the other has. He's getting closer. The reaper in front of him covers his mouth with his hands and gasps.

"That's what happened?" He squeaks out. Louis blinks at him, not entirely understanding his meaning but the reaper pulls out a paper from his back pocket, pointing to a section on the map shown on it.

"He's around here I'm sure of it." The reaper bites his lip in concentration and Louis laughs.

"Thank you," He says and the reaper bows with a big smile on his face. The rip is cut and he follows Jeremy inside, waiting to be changed to a new person.


As much as Francois dislikes war, he has a small admirance for those who served. To go into battle and risk their lives for something stupid or another seemed bold to him and he would never partake in such an act. He walks into the house of an old veteran, waiting just a minute longer before making the last seconds peaceful as they sit overlooking the city. He backs away as their soul leaves their body, not taking the shape of the moth he has come to know but of the man just in front of him. Their face twists up into something like disappointment.

"You're not who I was expecting," They say and Francois raises an eyebrow at that. Who did they expect to see he's not sure and he doesn't particularly care either. He unsheathes his sword ready to make the cut when they stop him.

"Wait!" They yell. Francois glances over his shoulder at the veteran, growing just a hint younger the longer they stay a soul.

"Can you help me?" His glance turns to a glare as they continue to talk. He doesn't have anywhere to be just yet, but waiting for a soul to figure out exactly what they need to do is a little annoying. Though it is his job to help them pass on.

"I'm looking for someone? Allen? Do you know him?" Francois can't help but flinch at what the spirit says. His eyes widen and his thoughts begin to race. Never has he heard a soul search for a reaper before. In this moment he think of her, and the promise she made him so long ago.

"He's a reaper," He says, and they nod their head. He met Allen years ago. He kind of remembers where his region is. Francois looks to the ground, trying to keep himself from missing the soul who said they'd come back. As much as he wants to tell this soul to buzz off and force them through, he knows she would never let him forget his cruelty, and he would be devastated is someone did the same to her.

"He's in an English speaking region, try there," He says more harshly than he intends. The spirit smiles at him and thanks him over many times as Francois whips his sword through the air to get the soul away from him. He drops to his knees when they are gone. Breathing is hard to come by and he is filled with a sense of hope like he's never felt before. It burns inside of him. He tries to push it down, not wanting the pain of having that hope killed once more. He dies a little more inside everytime it happens. If this one doesn't leave a physical mark, he's not sure what will.


New advances of the world took Francois by surprise. He never expected the humans to get as far as they did with their technology. He's a little excited to see it come full force, until he remembers that they will probably kill themselves in worse ways. He groans to himself, walking off down a random street. There are people milling about him, dressed in fancy clothes and laughing to themselves. Francois shudders at the thought but his shudder brings on a new wave of darkness.

He groans, now looking at himself in a passing mirror of a shop. His old military outfit is gone, now replaced with a simple pair of black pants and a black button up. He unbuttons the first few buttons so he doesn't feel strangled. His scythe morphs in his hand and he grimaces down at the object. As upset he may be by the sudden change, the shaving styled razor now in his hand feels much better than the sword he used to carry around. It feels natural in his hold, so maybe it's not all bad.

He continues to walk until the darkness takes him somewhere new, it's not long in to wondering why he's there when a person skids off the road and into a pole in front of them. Francois blinks down at the new wreck, reaching a hand into the small newly made car to place a hand on the human, but their soul does not come to him. He sighs and steps back, waiting. A new reaper appears quickly, placing a hand on the human and extracting their soul in the shape of a small dog.

Klaus sighs and looks to him sadly. Francois sighs in response. The other reaper gestures to his clothes and he just shrugs. He didn't entirely decide for the switch, but he's not going to complain. Klaus smiles a little, ripping a hole and letting the dog jump through. Once the hole is sealed, his outfit changes as well, his old uniform morphing into something cozier looking, a jacket of sorts to cover him up and his scythe, once styled like a sword is now smaller, more stereotypical with a bird skull on top. Klaus takes the new scythe and a chain materializes as he places it around his neck. He smiles to Francois and disappears. Francois rather likes Klaus, he can't talk, which means he can't say anything stupid. He kicks the car before leaving himself.


Francis clacks his toy sword against his friend's laughing dramatically as his older sister plays princess behind him, sputtering about all being lost. He stabs his friend, giggling in his hand when they clamp the sword under their arm and fall backwards. He grabs his sister's hand holding it up like a prize.

"You must always have hope, for I will always come for you!" he yells out. His sister rolls her eyes and he and his friend stand to bow for the little old man who watched them from his spot on his porch. Francis giggles again, smiling over at his sister. He would always save her, even when he's small, he feels happy knowing she really does have hope he would go to her.


He shudders against the cold, not expecting such harsh weather from the region he's been called to. He walks behind the person he's supposed to be near, watching as their life slowly dies out in the cold they hadn't been prepared for. Francois sighs when they finally fall to the snow beneath them, moaning out one last squeak of help.

A tree branch is broken loudly and a new call of voices is heard. Francois raises an eyebrow as people come over the snowed on hill, gasping and shouting for blankets and warmth. He leans against a tree, waiting for the soul to die but it never does. He can feel the life given back to it in an act he had no control over.

His eyes shift to a looming figure coming closer to him. A reaper he can tell, with a long black coat and a red scarf. The scythe in their hand is long handled with the stereotypical curved blade at the end of it. Francois nods his head in acknowledgment when they stop in front of him.

"You did nothing," They say to him and he shrugs. He's stopped messing with the pattern of life and death a long time ago, if something natural is to happen, he let it flow. The reaper raises an eyebrow at his lack of answer.

"Something besides the weather has made you cold," Francois can't really deny that accusation.

"And?" He says back to them. They say nothing before sighing and leaning up against the same tree as the recently saved person is hauled off and away from them. The two reapers stand in silence, admiring the way the snow falls around them.

"My name is Vlad, and I hope you find your warmth," The reaper nods his head and disappears just as quick. Francis rolls his eyes, not letting the idea settle inside him. He doesn't need warmth.


Francis thunks his back against the muddy wall, peeking over the edge as best as he can. He takes a deep breath and stands up quickly, firing off his weapon twice then dropping back down. He grips his gun tight, tying to calm himself down.

He didn't want to be in this war. He never wanted to see it happen. He's always been a lover not a fighter, and having to do just that tore him up inside. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to get the tears out of them, from his feelings or from the dirt flying up he's not sure. He doesn't want to do this and yet he knows he has to. There is nothing else that he knows how to do.

A new being plops down next to him and they share a quick nod of acknowledgement. Francis doesn't know them but they are on the same side of things based off their uniform. The other man makes a gesture, pointing to a new area, a safer one. Francis gulps and stands up once again, firing over the wall that separates him from death. He and the other soldier run across to a new area. Right before he can make it inside, Francis feels a split in his side. He crumples to the ground and pants hard. He can feel the bullet that grazed him. It hurts. Someone above him is yelling at him but he can't tell what they are saying anymore. He feels oddly calm, and then nothing at all.

For a moment, Francis looks over his own body, being pulled for only a moment until the realization that he is not going to wake. He rubs at his arms slowly, not know what to do in his new death until the memories come back to him. The pyre, the stable boy, the running, the reaper. He spins in a circle until he spots a figure near him, one that is not who he wanted.

"Ah," He says with a small smile. This reaper is taller than the one he's looking for, darker looking and a long black coat covering their body and a red scarf.

"Would you be able to help me before I go?" Francis asks stepping closer to them. He can see their face scrunch up but they nod anyway.

"I'm looking for someone, someone like you. They have blonde hair, and look very sad. Do you know one like that?" He holds his hands to his chest looking up hopefully at the reaper with dark eyes. They pause for a moment, looking off in the distance with a sad look in their eyes.

"Please, I've been looking for so long," Francis watches their face as they think. Their shoulders drop and they look back to him, nodding their head.

"I think I know who you are searching for," Their tone is clipped, but Francis can hear the pain inside of it. He can't help the smile at the new information.

"You are looking for a region in the French country," The reaper says. Francis runs a hand through his hair and smiles up at the reaper.

"Thank you, thank you so much," He says as they swing their long scythe in the air, opening a rip for other souls to hop through. Francis does so eagerly, wanting more and more to get to where he needs to go.


The sky feels black as the death surrounding him. Francois walks along with the rest of the reapers in the area, bringing all the souls into the sky to be put into the other world as soon as they were all okay to do so. He said his hello's to Oliver and Klaus earlier and now stands by himself, waiting for the other's to finish up their jobs. He runs a hand through his hair making it seem more shaggy than normal. He looks around him, watching as a small spirit rabbit hops up to Vlad and shifts into the form of a man. He raises an eyebrow at the two, conversing for a moment when he hears a small bit of what they are saying.

"They have blonde hair, and look very sad. Do you know one like that?" His heart stops in his chest. He drops his razor carelessly to the ground and stares at the spirit man talking. He can barely see them but he catches a glimpse of their eyes and longing races through him. Vlad looks up from the man to him and Francois feels frozen. He can't move. The spirit keeps talking and Vlad looks pained, something like understanding flashing in his eyes.

"I think I know who you are searching for," He can hear his reaper friend say. Slowly Francois backs away. He can't see it again as they are taken from him. With a sad expression, Vlad cuts the sky and the souls fly through. Something in Francois snaps and he falls to the ground. He covers his face with his hands and digs his nails into his scalp.

It's not fair. It's not fair how close he managed to be to them, only to have them ripped apart from him again. He didn't want to believe in their promise and to hear them still looking for him made it all so much more painful and real. They've been searching for him all this time, for 500 years, trying to get back to him, and all he's done is pretend they never existed. How cruel could he be to them? To himself? His body aches with the want of easing this pain.

"I'm sorry," He hears a voice say. He doesn't look up right away, not when the other kneels down next to him to place a hand on his head in a somewhat caring manner.

"He could not stay, not when his soul was bound to me," Vlad tells him quietly. Francois nods his head though he wishes it didn't have to be like so. Whatever attachment that soul has to him, it can not stay while under another reaper's jurisdiction. He has to wait even longer. He waves Vlad's hand off, not wanting anyone near him. The other reapers seem to know this and keep away from him, going back to their own places of rule, and leaving him to wallow in his own self misery until the pull of his job takes him from his spot.


Francois looks down at the man attached to wires in front of him. They are dead now and their soul is long gone. He twists his scythe in his hand, looking at the small white papery stick in the dead person's hand. He took some people in the past few years with the same condition as this one now. Their lungs gave out due to toxic fumes inside their chest. Francois leans down and plucks the new, unlit cigarette from the dead person's hand. With a puff of air he lights it and sticks it between his teeth. He may not be able to die from smoking, but he wishes he could.

No matter what he did, he couldn't help the agony that churned inside him, wondering just how long that soul has been searching for him. He wonders if it hurts them as much as it hurts him to be alone like this. He shakes his head to rid himself of his thoughts but they stay. He wants them to leave his mind but they will not. He grits his teeth and throws his scythe to the ground in anger.

If that young soul never promised to see him again he wouldn't be like this and neither would they. Why it bothered to subject them both to that kind of misery is beyond him. It hurts too much to think about. He glares up at the sky, wondering if the soul would ever see him again, if they are just messing around playing fun with his heart. What if they saw him now and thought their promise isn't worth keeping. He wraps his arms around himself, and wonders what kind of person would ever want him to love.


"You can't say that!" Francine glares down at the boy she just pushed away. She wraps her arms protectively around a young girl that the boy had been picking on. She sticks her tongue out at him as he scrambles away from her.

"You okay?" She asks the girl, her nose twisted at an odd angle. The girl nods her head, spilling out questions about how Francine doesn't make fun of her for her face.

"That's silly, you're a good person," She says with a bright smile. The little girl hugs her tightly and Francine giggles. She makes a promise to visit her tomorrow. She would never break a promise, it would hurt too much to bear if she did that.


The one good thing about not entirely living, is that Francois can smoke as many cigarettes as he wants and not feel the effects of it. He places the death stick to his lips once more, inhaling the smoke to it's full extent because he can. He stares over the city from atop of the Eiffel Tower. It's a beautiful scene and a sick small part of him wishes he could have it with someone else. He sneers at his own intrusive thoughts, dropping his cigarette carelessly to the ground, not even bothering to stomp it out.

He finds himself at the hospital in his next few steps, taking the life of a elderly man and woman who caught the same sickness a little too late in their old life. He looks away when the two smile at each other one last before passing onto the other world.

He doesn't like the fact he still thinks of that soul and what they said to him. Remembering them shakes him to his core because he doesn't think it to be true even now. Having that hope shoved in his face over and over again hurts him inside and he'd rather be alone. A dark part of him wishes they never made that promise in the first place. He would have never had to go through this kind of turmoil as he is now but they did and now it hurts.

He grips his razor blade tight. He doesn't know if he'll ever seen him again or if they will search for forever, but he can't keep holding onto this small hope of not being alone. His view of the world has been twisted since the first moment, he doubts whatever this soul could do would be worth it.


Francine can feel the pain in her chest heighten. She huffs, trying to stop it from happening but it doesn't work. She calls for help and her best friend comes to her, screaming in their own right and calling for help on their own. She's jostled as an ambulance comes for her, taking her to the hospital to work on her heart again. She doesn't know why they kept trying.

She's brought into the emergency room, doctors crowding around her instantly. She blinks up at them, lurching every so often at the pain that racks her body. Someone is screaming to her but it does not matter. She cries softly, closing her eyes and waiting for her heart to finally fail her.


Francois will not deny he did try once more to skew the odds so that the woman on the operating table could live just a little longer. He hated seeing young ones die even from the beginning. He looks away, almost ashamed when she dies eventually. He brushes a hand against her arm and walks away without looking behind him. He makes it out of the hospital and leans against the wall, waiting for the soul to find him like they always do.

It takes just a moment, but soon there is a small moth in his face, it circles his head a few times and he sighs, readying his razor to cut the sky when the insect shifts form into the young woman he tried meekly to save for a little while longer. He stares at her and she smiles at him, something sweet and small. He turns his head away and moves to make the cut in the air but the tip snags, signaling the soul still has something to do. She places a hand on his arm.

"Won't you let me keep you company for a little while longer?" She asks and he shrugs her off. He hears her huff and he can't help the roll of his eyes.

"Aren't you lonely?" She asks him and he shakes his head out of habit. He raises an eyebrow when she places her hands on her hips and scolds him like a misbehaving child.

"You're such a liar," She chides him. Francois blinks at her, then begins to walk away. He has no time to deal with temperamental souls. He'll get her to go away when the next soul dies or whenever her attachment passes.

"Hey!" She shouts to him and he groans.

"Go away," He tells her, wanting her to leave him alone. She scoffs and grabs his arm, forcing him to turn around and get a full look at the anger in her eyes.

"Uhm no? Do you know how long it took me to find you? I am never letting you out my sight again mister," She says, a small smirk crossing her face as she talks. Francois's face scrunches up in confusion until the color of her eyes spark recognition in his mind. Tears fill him faster than he can think, pouring out of him with no warning what so ever. He stumbles a little, falling to his knees and covering his face as his sobs shake him to the core. Arms circle around him and a gentle voice in his hair tells him everything is alright. Francois wraps his arms around her, clinging to her like a lifeline.

"Darling I knew I would find you," She tells him and he whimpers against her. She laughs gently, running a hand through his hair.

"I have died so many times," He whispers and she shifts, pulling him even closer than before. He hides his face in her neck and cries.

"It's okay my love, I am here." Francois doesn't know why, but he believes her with everything he has. After 600 years, and he finally knows peace.


Francois drags his razor through the air, letting the souls flitter through in their tiny moth forms. He swallows the lump in his throat as the rip seals up. He'll never tell her, but he's always scared that whenever he makes the cut that her soul will be taken back too. He's not sure what he would do if he were to be left alone again.

"You've become sweeter to them you know," She whispers in his ear, shifting into the womanly form. He huffs and takes a drag of his cigarette. It's plucked from his teeth and her lips replace the cigarette. He blinks down at her when she pulls back, smirking up to him in a smug fashion. He groans and turns his head away, willing with everything he has to make sure a blush doesn't appear on his face.

"Your fault," He whispers once they are on their way to a new place. She giggles and links their arms together, pulling him close and giving him as much warmth as her spirit body can manages. He leans into the touch a little.

"If it's my fault you don't look as sad as you used to, I take full responsibility," She giggles again and places a quick kiss on his cheek. He glares at the ground at the displays of affection. He's not used to it, having been alone for so long, but slowly, he is becoming more accepting. He glances at her when she starts to hum, a slow song with a bittersweet melody. The wind wavers her hair making her look like angelic. Francois swallows his pride and kisses her cheek quickly. She doesn't let him get away so easily, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. He jerks back a little, nearly pushing her away but she holds strong.

"Don't try to get away from me now mister," She teases, rubbing their noses together. He fidgets a little more causing her to laugh.

"I told you I'd love you more than anything, I have to make up for time lost." She smiles at him and his heart pounds. He takes a deep breath and lets her pepper his face with small kisses though he grimaces on the outside.

There's a low whistle and Francois groans in annoyance out loud for all to hear. Francine immediately burst into laughter turning to face the newcomers. Allen stands leaning on the edge of the wall with a smug look on his face. Matt is next to him looking tired and as done as ever. Before anyone else can speak the small butterfly on Allen's shoulder flies off and shifts into the form of a young man.

"I know you!" He shouts and comes closer, ignoring the panicked look Francois gives him and picking him up in a bone crushing hug. Francois tries to glare at Francine when she snorts.

"You helped me get back to Allen," The spirit man explains once Francois manages to push him off. Francine links their arms again, leaning her head against his shoulder simply. He sighs, trying to keep the bitter tone out of his voice.

"Yeah," Is what he says. The spirit laughs and goes back to Allen, hugging him close. Matt gives Francois a quick nod of hello when Francine jumps on him, hanging on to his neck with her arms.

"You helped me get back to Francois!" She yells in Matt's face firmly making the reaper blush deeply. She laughs and kisses his forehead before letting go of his shoulders. She skips back to Francois and kisses his cheek. Now thoroughly confused by the whole situation, Francois feels a tug inside of him. He grabs Francine's hand and nods to the others. They say quick goodbyes before Francois slips away.

"You have nice friends," She says to him. He rolls his eyes. He wouldn't entirely consider them friends. She squeezes his hand tightly and he squeezes back instantly. Maybe with some time he could come to know them. For right now though, he's perfectly content with spending all of his time with her. They do have a lot of years to catch up on. He brings her hand close and kisses back of it, making her swoon happily against him. He pouts, not wanting it any other way.


AN: The title is based off the song "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri.