Author's Note: And here we are again with a new chapter! This ended up taking longer than I thought cause I got a little cold, bug, THING that sorta made me drip and curl in a blankie for a week. Not prime writing time when you have phlegm in your brain, no sir! That and I am super super sorry but I ended up cutting the chapters again :T So Francis gets one more chapter to endure the afterlife. He can take it I'm sure! Hopefully I can focus long enough to get out the next chapter quickly now. I suffer from crippling fic ADD someone get me some Ritalin or something I swear :| ANYHOO! Thank you SO SO MUCH to everyone who's reviewed and watched and faved and AMG you all make me so happy, and continue to enjoy my strange little fic! :3

Cheers!

-Crow


Chapter 3

A Holy Roller in a High Stakes Game

The angel nodded solemnly as he spoke again, "Good… Good, then I'll begin with the beginning, which was, as you now know, your end. And hopefully, if I show you, it will help you understand what has happened to you."

He reached out a hand and made a deft swirl in the air which coaxed the clouds beneath it to rise. The mist surrounded them, flushed with color, and shimmered and rippled as the sky darkened to a stormy evening black. Beneath their feet the town of Applewood materialized into view, drenched in rain and teeming with life just as it was the last time he saw it. Francis could see the main street where his beloved Lapin Doux slept, closed for the night, as well as the jewelers he had visited. He could see the quieter residential districts, glowing with the warm lights of home, then the highway leading up to the hills; the very same highway he had been driving on. Just as he recognized it, he witnessed the truck spin wildly out of control, jump the divide and completely decimate his car. The sight was gruesome, to say the least, and Francis winced each time his hapless little vehicle bounced, broke, and crunched down the hill until it was finally crushed by the falling truck. From his aerial view, it was painfully apparent just how catastrophic the accident had been, not to mention how asinine his driving had been. It was no wonder he had been killed instantly, Francis realized, and shuddered.

"You were in fact killed in that accident, and it has been quite some time. Your family and friends, your Arthur, they have long said their goodbyes and laid you to rest," the angel went on, moving his hand again to change the scene.

In place of the stormy, black night of the accident the scene shifted, flushed with color, and Francis found himself standing at the back of a warmly lit, somber chapel. The pews were lined in lilies for mourning and filled with familiar distraught faces wherever he looked. Gilbert looked pained, trying to maintain a furious scowl at his best friend for leaving him, but succeeding very poorly thanks to his red-rimmed eyes and the occasional sniff he tried to hide behind a scowl or a grunt. He sat beside his ever-stoic younger brother who held an openly bawling Feliciano, stroking his back with a thumb as he allowed just one moment of public tenderness for his grieving beloved. Elizaveta sat nearby, also weeping in her husband's arms, while Roderich surveyed the proceedings with his usual aloof disinterest. Idly, Francis wondered if he was trying to remain beyond the sorrow to be strong for his wife, or if he was appraising just how much money had been wasted on someone who was dead and gone.

The thought brought a brief, sad smile to his lips as he began to realize just how far gone he was reflected in the grief of the people who had loved him. He glanced away and spotted Antonio, surprisingly beside an agreeable Lovino who had apparently agreed to hold his hand, in secret, between their laps and hidden behind the pew. His parents were not far away with their heads bowed and hands clasped as well. There were classmates from college and former coworkers, patrons of his bakery, along with a few all too familiar lovers, and anyone whose life he had brightened in some way and wanted to say their final goodbyes. Francis was touched, but there was one person he had yet to see among the mourners, the one singular soul he truly wanted to see, and he frowned as he looked imploringly back up at the angel. As if reading his thoughts, the blonde deity gestured toward the back of the church where at last, in a tiny ball of a rumpled black suit, unbrushed, dirty blonde tresses, and anguish, Francis spotted the figure he had been searching for all along, breathing his name like a prayer.

"Arthur…"

Arthur was hunched in his pew alone, having repelled anyone who would offer him condolences long before the service had even started. In one hand he held the crumpled remains of a eulogy Francis already knew would never be heard, and the other clutched a single blood red rose so tightly the thorns could almost bleed their color from his flesh. His shoulders were stooped and withered, broken. Over his frame his ashen skin seemed stretched too thin and his eyes, even downcast, were a muddy, lifeless green. No tears trekked down his cheeks, but Francis knew in the pit of his soul just by the way he looked that he had been crying up until the very moment he had to be seen in public. Arthur never let anyone see him cry. It was the single most heartbreaking thing he had ever seen, in life or afterlife.

Despite being dead, despite knowing it, despite being in a place where he was neither in Heaven or Hell, Francis' heart shattered in his chest with a very real mortal pain. Never before had he seen Arthur, his Arthur, look so small, wounded, and utterly alone. The doubt that everything assaulting him was very much real vanished in an instant seeing that gut wrenching sight, for his mind would not have dared to defile an image of the man he loved with that pitiful husk. Tears rolled, unfelt, down his cheeks, and he reached out for the crushed blonde in the pew, but a tender hand on his shoulder stopped him. He whirled around as the scene faded to a twilight blue, and once again beside him the angel closed his eyes and shook his head.

"But-!" the mortal started hoarsely.

"I'm sorry, Francis. These are but images, shadows, ghosts of what has already been. I just thought… Perhaps you'd like to see this," the angel told him, smiling and gesturing back to the vision.

It had miraculously changed to later in the very same day. The chapel was empty and the lights were dimmed, illuminating only the elaborate casket adorned with a bouquet of pure white lilies and the bent figure with his mussed blonde head bowed before it. Francis gasped and hurried as close as he dared to the lone vision of Arthur bathed in the single shaft of golden light, only close enough to hear him as he fought back tears and spoke for the final time to him.

"It wasn't supposed to be this way, Francis…" Arthur whispered, his voice barely above a choked whisper, "I wasn't supposed to have to say goodbye to you. And it's not goddamn fair."

He had to stop after that, lest he lose control and give in to his infamous temper, still fingering the rose he held in his hands and searching desperately for some kind of solace in the velvety petals and elegant leaves.

"We were supposed to drive each other batty to the grave. We were supposed to be old and gray and bitter, sipping tea with aspirin on the porch and accusing one another of losing each other's glasses, the telly remote, or taking the crossword out of the Sunday paper… There was supposed to be the smell of your cooking on the weekends, two coats on the rack by the door and me refusing to wash those hideous excuses for knickers you insisted on wearing and then leaving all over my flat. We were supposed to fight about something utterly ridiculous and then make up hours later with something so stupidly simple and romantic it doesn't even make sense to us. We were supposed to live our lives in quiet misery, together… And I… I would have gladly spent the rest of mine doing all of that with you," he continued, his voice breaking as he lost the battle with his tears.

He was alone, so he let them come.

"And I know I never said it and I'm a right bastard for that… I never told you how I felt about anything, let alone how I felt about you. I know I didn't say anything for you today either, like the great jackass I am, and I… I am… S-Sorry. But my words weren't really for them anyway. They're not even for me. They're only for you, and I hope to almighty God you can hear me now because I swear if you just left without sticking around to hear all the sickeningly beautiful things everyone had to say about you today I never really knew you at all."

Francis couldn't help but snort and laugh. He was very right, had he the choice, he would have definitely come to his own funeral just to hear everyone praise him to the skies. Arthur managed a tearful laugh as well, one Francis almost mistook for a sob, and laid a hand tenderly on the polished mahogany of the casket.

"Though I wish I knew for sure. I wish I knew beyond a shadow of a fucking doubt that you could hear me so I could say everything I wanted to say and know that you knew it. Because it kills me to think that… You might never have really known how much I…"

He trailed off, choking even then at the mere thought of the words, laughing bitterly and rubbing his eyes.

"Lord, I can't even say it now…" ruefully growled Arthur, "Not even now, when it's bloody too late. But… I should say it once, at least just once for you since you said it enough for both of us. So you damned well better enjoy it, my idiot frog. Enjoy it and this, too… I want you to have something. I wanted to give it to you that night because I was sick and tired of waiting for you to do it, but now… Now I'll never get to, so keep it and everything it means."

Arthur shifted, reached in his pocket, and the tiny glimmering object he withdrew nearly brought Francis to his knees. In his wan fingers, he held a simple engagement ring of the purest white gold etched with a rose. He guided it deftly around the stem of the single real red rose he had been clutching all along, and then slipped it amongst the white bouquet of lilies that would accompany the casket to the grave. It burned into existence, a drop of blood on pure snow, and Arthur kissed his fingers and touched its petals one last time.

"This will always, always belong to you. And so will I, Francis, you git. Because… B-Because I… I love you. I love you, damn it!" he growled, tears rolling down his cheeks as he banged a hand on the lid of the casket, "I love you…"

Francis let the tears come himself, closing his eyes as the vision faded and Arthur's bitter last words rang in his ears.

"I will never love again…"

And then as clearly as he had appeared before him, Arthur vanished, and was replaced by nothing but the purgatory of nothingness Francis had woken up in. The brilliant sunlight that had lit his world cooled to a pale blue and twinkling stars shivered timidly to life above him, leaving him alone with the sound of his sorrows and his tears. He covered his face in his hands and sunk to his knees, weeping, mourning the senseless destruction of the future he never even knew could have been his.

He and Arthur had never once discussed marriage, for unpleasant little subject had no place in their polite conversation. They had never mentioned the future, they never dwelled on the past, they just were, and Francis had loved him that way. It wrenched his heart to know that he would have been proposed to that evening, but it obliterated it completely to know that he never would have accepted. He could already see the tragic scene that might have been in his mind's eye so clearly. Arthur would be beat red, struggling for his words and getting flustered and angry as he teased him for trying for once to be serious. Then the Brit would produce the ring and practically shove it in his face and he would take one look at the glittering, innocent little band of love and devotion and feel the frozen fingers of sheer terror close around his heart and squeeze.

Francis knew then he would have fled to the bathroom until his heart stopped hammering to the point of collapse. He would have stared into the mirror, pale and numb, until he found the right words to tell Arthur that he was so much more than that to him. That they needn't shackle themselves in the bonds of marriage that never did anything but make the greatest of lovers eventually resent one another. That he never wanted them to grow weary of their company and lose their fire that he gladly let consume him and that he, his Arthur, his precious little rabbit, was far too special to ever risk losing with anything more than the perfect balance of what they had. Only once he returned to the table, he knew Arthur would already be gone.

Only in death did he know how he would have ruined the evening and destroyed his one true love, and only in death could he hate himself for it. Since the moment he had entered the world he was a creature of passion, beauty, and love. He had made himself an elusive siren of desire, something so alive and burning with lust and sin one only dared but hold on long enough to get a glimpse. He had loved Arthur with an intensity he thought could only be spoken of in poems and dreamed about in the darkest reaches of the psyche, but never had he imagined that someone would be willing to stand in the flame of his being long enough to hold him forever.

Francis was long gone in his thoughts when a gentle hand on either shoulder shocked him back into reality. He jerked his head up and turned his tear-stained face back up to see both the angel and demon at his side once more with reassuring smiles on their faces.

"Sorry, pal. I know it hurts, but it was important you saw all that. You believe us now, yeah?" the demon asked.

Francis nodded dumbly and thumbed the tears from his eyes. There was no doubt left in his mind that he was in fact dead, but once convinced of that it only left even more questions.

"Je sais. I am mangeant les pissenlits par la racine, as you so kindly put it… And mon amour is all alone now," he acknowledged miserably, "But why did I have to see that? Where am I? Why am I here and who ARE you?"

The demon grinned, his eyes flashing for the first time with a hint of true darkness behind the carefree face.

"Ah, finally you get it and now we get to the nitty-gritty of it all!" he purred, clapping his hands together and rubbing them vigorously.

Francis scowled through his tears, but allowed the angel to help him to his feet as he moved to do so and spoke.

"I suppose first things first. We are respectively representatives of the councils of Heaven and Hell, and we were sent here to find you," he explained as Francis righted himself and faced them, "This place is sort of a… Go between, if you will, between the two. A limbo of sorts. And you're here because… Well…"

The angel stopped himself, eyes shifting as he searched for the right words that would be gentler on the already rattled soul. In the end, there was no good way around it, and he heaved a heavy sigh.

"To be quite blunt, we're not sure what to do with you."

A frown took the place of the heartbreak on Francis' face immediately.

"What do you mean, you don't know what to do with me?" he demanded.

"It's a bit embarrassingly simple, really. Once you look at it. You see, we weren't expecting to receive you exactly when we did. Not even we can completely predict the outcome of a mortal person's actions and well… Going to get that pocket watch for Arthur was outside of what we expected you to do. We assumed you would just bring the original gift and make do to prevent being snapped at and therefore avoid that truck altogether. Being as late as you were, you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time," explained the angel matter-of-factly.

Francis was not so easily assuaged. He narrowed his eyes at the both of them and folded his arms across his chest.

"So what does that have to do with leaving me here to rot in this hell, not even a hell, in this nothingness all alone for TWO months? Not even aware! Not able to go to Arthur's side or even to say goodbye!" he hissed.

"That's just it, since we weren't expecting you to face final judgment just yet we… Were not prepared and neither were you," elaborated the angel.

He snapped his fingers neatly, and in his hands with a bright flash of golden light and a puff of white smoke a golden scroll materialized from thin air. He unfurled it to the ground, snapped his other fingers and conjured a smart pair of rectangular reading glasses that he perched on his nose as he cleared his throat. The demon beside him enthusiastically followed suit and conjured his own ominous scroll of tattered, blackened paper wrapped around what appeared to be a gruesomely decorated bone. He too tossed it to the ground, and as they rolled and bounced in tandem through the clouds toward him, trailing their long ribbons of paper behind, Francis' eyes widened in shock. Written in beautiful golden cursive and in jagged blood on either scroll, was a list of every deed he had ever committed in his entire lifetime on earth.

The one the angel held was filled with glowing, kind and loving acts he had done for others. Among them were written things like, "Gave Matthew time off to tend to his brother.", "Gave Elizaveta a paycheck advance when her car broke down." and, "Made lunch for Arthur and snuck in a love note." The second was slightly more ominous. The crimson and erratic words spoke of things such as, "Lied to Genevieve about sleeping with her best friend, also sleeping with her best friend.", "Attempting to bribe cops with sexual favors: see extensive list below." and, "Flirted with Alyssa in the jewelry shop and left phone number on the way to anniversary dinner with Arthur."

Francis glanced back and forth between the two lists, torn between the sheer number of acts of loving kindness he felt far outweighed the depraved things listed on the black scroll and the seemingly meticulous log of every scandalous, horrible thing he had ever gotten away with, or not gotten away with in many cases. Many of them seemed to be taken way out of context as well, in his humble opinion. They also appeared to be suspiciously close in length, and as Francis investigated further he could see that the last two entries on both scrolls were dead even with one another.

"What in the hell is th-" he began, only to be swiftly answered.

"This is the reason you have not been able to cross over completely yet. You see, when each person on Earth dies a qualified Afterlife Representative from both Heaven and Hell is assigned to their case, they compare records, and a decision is made as to which eternal realm their spirit will pass on to. Normally it only takes a short time but… When you died, and we met to deliberate on your records…" the angel informed him, glancing over at his companion for assistance.

"As you can see, it was a dead heat. One hundred percent even! Not a single thing we found really tipped the scales!" the demon continued enthusiastically for him, "And believe me we went back and forth and back and forth forever. So we wandered back home, asked some of the higher ups for help, they had a super long chat, and seems both of us think the other one should take you! They sent us both to tell one another the exact same thing, we butted heads, and then I think that brings us up to speed! You wound up here with us bickering over you because you're really just a liiiiittle bit naughty for Heaven, and just a taaaaad too sweet for Hell. You see?"

The mortal regarded them both with a blank, unreadable expression for several moments as his brain clicked, whirred, and smoked in a vain attempt to try and process everything again. Not only was he dead, worse, Arthur wanted to marry him, and then worse even still the two dubious characters who had come to fetch him had informed him that on top of all of that, eternal rest was still out of his reach.

"You have got to be KIDDING ME!" Francis finally exploded, tangling his hands in his hair, "After all of that? After letting me float around like some twig in a creek for two months, after leading me on and not telling me the truth, after forcing me to see my beloved petit lapin in pain, now you tell me I don't even get to CROSS OVER?"

"No one said THAT," the angel replied testily, "You will cross over somewhere, we just haven't decided where!"

"Well, don't I get a say in this? Do I not have a voice? Will I not get even the chance to defend my life?" Francis snarled, "Did anyone even think to ask ME about any of this? I mean, it is my immortal soul after all!"

Both angel and demon stared at him a moment, completely nonplussed.

"No, that never really came up…" the angel admitted dryly with a shrug.

"Just a thought… Maybe it should have!" Francis bellowed in reply, throwing his hands up as desperation began to tint his pleas, "Come on! How could you even have to think so hard about this? I'm not a bad person! Really I'm not! There are plenty of people who deserve to go to Hell far more than I! Sure, I had a little fun now and then. Who didn't? Especially if you look even half as good as I do! Et oui, perhaps I did some stupid and selfish things, but really deep down I'm a beautiful soul who earned an honest living and loved his family and friends and lover with all his heart! How can you possibly damn someone like me to an eternity in misery?"

A flash of annoyance crossed the faces of both immortal beings. Things were complicated enough without Francis' mortal whims and fears, and they both knew all too well what allowing even a bit of human element into ethereal affairs could do.

"You can whine all you like but it really doesn't do you much good! Your records speak for themselves, look!" the angel huffed, promptly swapping scrolls with the demon and unfurling the black list.

He adjusted his glasses primly on the bridge of his nose, cleared his throat, and lifted his chin haughtily as he began to read.

"First of all, the string of jilted lovers and one night stands you've left in your wake automatically raises a red flag, just how many people were you with while you were alive?" he started crisply, leveling an accusatory glare at the mortal.

Francis' eyes shifted to the side and his lips quirked uncomfortably. He had stopped bothering with counting long ago.

"Um…"

"You don't even know, do you? Not to mention the lies you propagated to keep them! You told one woman you were leaving on a humanitarian mission to Africa so you could take another TWO to Paris with you? You put French tutoring posters up on your college campus, just to get the attention of one young man you knew was a French literature major and ignored everyone who called asking until he did! And that's not even the worst of it! You told a nurse at the hospital after your best friend had a severe asthma attack that you were visiting your dying mother just to get her to go out with you? And you left him there! I could go on for eternity!"

"W-White lies! Petit, tiny, itty-bitty lies! I didn't want to break their hearts you see! I always ended up confessing! Most of them found it charming I'd say anything to get their attention! And Gilbert was completely happy for me that time, by the way!" the Frenchman countered frantically.

"Lies are lies, Francis. I don't think I've ever met someone who's been slapped, punched, had drinks thrown in his face, and been pushed into planters, fountains, or swimming pools more times than you. And considering how long I have existed that's truly saying something," the angel said disdainfully.

"None of them never meant anything to me anyway! It was merely the hot blood and foolishness of youth and beauty!" Francis pleaded, "I grew up and I saw the error of my ways! My heart learned the fickle ways of l'amour, and eventually I found Ar-"

"I wasn't even through," the angel stopped him stonily, "Aside from that there's the matter of your less than admirable way of conducting yourself. You've been arrested several times for public nudity, lewd acts in public as well, and making a pass at more than one officer when they were questioning you! One you even went so far as to FONDLE."

"That wasn't my fault. He was totally giving me a vibe!" Francis groused, crossing his arms over his chest.

"He was FRISKING you!" the angel cried in exasperation.

"Details!" Francis said flippantly with a flourish of his hand.

"And then there was that night at the cabin with those waiters or… Waitresses, or… Whatever they were from that strange fetish club you went to with-"

"We don't talk about that night, damn it!" howled Francis, balling his fists.

"Fine, then what about your infamous little black book, hmm? Your pride and joy? How many names and horrible notes about how good they were in bed were in there?" the angel snapped primly.

"I shall have you know I happen to have burned that!" the blonde mortal harrumphed, lifting his nose in the air.

"Allowed Arthur to burn it, and only after he found it by accident, you mean," came the dry, unamused retort.

"Well I certainly didn't stop him, now did I?"

"Point BEING…" the angel finally declared, swiping his glasses off of his face and letting them vanish with a neat puff of white smoke, "There is a laundry list of unforgivable sins here. As it is right now, there is no way we can allow you through the gates of Heaven."

Francis winced with a half smile and lifted a timid finger into the air.

"Peut-être, if that is truly the case, then I could just perhaps go and appeal to… Um, shall we say a higher divine power? Plead my case there and get a second opinion? It cannot hurt, n'est-ce pas?" he proposed.

"Absolutely and unequivocally out of the question," the angel retorted so flatly Francis deflated and let the issue be, "There are much more important things for him to attend to than one lost soul who just so happened to fall through the cracks. That's what we're here for."

"I should have known. Nice to see bureaucratic nonsense is alive and well and the quality policy of choice even in the afterlife," Francis muttered sarcastically.

"My boss might be willing to have a chat with you, buddy!" the demon finally chimed in, "But I dunno if you really want to. Especially if you're still on that whole 'Oh no please, Mister, don't damn me to Hell I'm not bad really!' thing!"

Francis scowled distastefully at the feminine mocking tone in which the demon chose to represent his voice.

"I'll pass on that, merci beaucoup. I think your boss and I already quite agree," he muttered.

"Pretty much! I mean, kinda sucks to hear all the bad shit, but you have a nice long list of good stuff, too! See?" the horned brunette chirped, waving the golden scroll that had been foisted upon him, "You were a good kid, did well in school, got along with everyone. You were always kind to your parents and a respectable member of your family. There was the time you took a whole month off of school to go back to France when your father got sick right? You had to make up all your finals and missed assignments in a summer session! But you did what you needed to do!"

For the first time since he had realized he was dead, a small smile crossed the Frenchman's lips. He very clearly remembered that particular semester and the sacrifices he had made for his family and he regretted not a single moment of it. He never regretted sacrificing for the benefit of others.

"Oui, I did. I was happy to. I have always been willing to do anything for the people I love," he whispered.

"Exactly! You opened a successful bakery everyone loves, you know practically all your customers by name and their favorite treat. You always have Gilbert's inhaler when you go out because you know he won't bring it himself. You encouraged Feliciano to keep on trying to get with his blonde German stud muffin of a brother even though by all appearances he was totally not interested, and look how happy they are now! You lend Elizaveta money when her husband's being a cheapskate and you always make sure to greet Matthew first in the morning because you know he's all quiet and stuff and tends to get ignored. And as big of a deal as sir holier-than-thou over here makes it, you never deliberately hurt anyone in your little romantic conquests. In fact, you sort of went out of your way to be romantic as possible, which is why you kinda got beat up on so bad when it all fell apart, you know?" the demon went on, pointing to various spots on the list and snickering.

Though all Francis could hear were the names of his friends and how much all the simple, easy little things he did mattered to them and to him in the end. He could hardly bear to imagine a morning opening up shop at Le Lapin Doux without him ruffling Matthew's hair, starting the ovens with Feliciano or tossing Elizaveta her apron with a wink and a cheerful thought to begin the day.

"So see? We really just CAN'T justify damning someone to Hell who spends all day making a special custom cake for his boyfriend and treating his employees, friends, and family like gold. That and the way you were with Arthur, sheesh. You did some really sickeningly sweet things for him," the demon went on, teasing him with a finger pointed into his mouth in a gagging motion, "All the love notes, flowers to his office, massages, cooking dinner for him, prepacking lunches for the next day, surprise gifts and compliments up the wazoo, bringing him freshly baked sweets and coffee to the office to pull all nighters with him, and not to mention all the-"

The smile grew brighter as the demon rambled on about his love, thinking of the tiny, reserved smile Arthur would allow himself at random roses tucked behind his ear, a chair pulled chivalrously out for him, or his favorite movies and snacks waiting on his counter after a long week at work. He could still hear the peal of his genuine laughter the rare times he allowed it, the way his name sounded breathed in the midst of passion into his neck, and even the way he would splutter and snap and nag when he remembered he was supposed to be bristly and combative after a random act of love. He still recalled the sensation of his fingers twined shyly into his own walking down the street back to one of their apartments, depending upon who won the usual argument over where to stay, or of those same fingers tangled into his golden curls when he thought he was actually asleep. Francis closed his eyes to see once more the light in his emerald eyes, the cocky grin of victory on his pale, beautifully smug face and even the rare, gentle expression of contentment meant only for him in their quiet, unspoken moments of laying together, saying nothing but allowing themselves just once just to be. The memory of him, his Arthur, his rosbif and salaud and beloved ornery bushy-browed son of a bitch was still so intense it was hard to believe he was merely a memory. Even harder still to believe was the fact that he too, was merely a memory to Arthur, and one two months already faded.

"Sure he did plenty of kind acts, but we can't truly see into his heart. How do we even know he was doing them out of genuine affection? He could have just been doing it for his own ends! He certainly did it plenty of times before Arthur, I'm sorry to be so cold Francis, but it is true," the angel barked, disrupting Francis' fond reminiscing.

He glowered, unnoticed, as the demon thumbed his scruffy chin and hummed as he considered the point.

"Huh. I suppose that could be true. Entirely possible Francis never loved him in the first place. Maybe just got comfortable with him, getting a little older, wanting some stability in life… Mmmm. Yeah I could definitely see-"

"No. Enough. You're wrong," Francis cut in firmly before either could soil the beautiful memories any further.

The unyieldingly passionate words from the usually frantic and frazzled mortal were more than enough to halt another argument before it began and glean the unwavering attention from both heavenly and hellish creatures.

"But we were merely discussing," the angel said defensively.

"Discussing my ass! Don't you dare talk about my relationship with Arthur that way! I love him. I've loved him since the moment I saw him, even if I was too stupid and selfish to realize until later. Arthur is… Was… The most beautiful, amazing, obnoxiously addictive stubborn salaud I ever knew. And I love him," Francis insisted passionately, bowing his head.

"Not enough to marry him, apparently," the angel reminded him, "I saw your face when you watched the vision."

Francis' head snapped back up, blue eyes flashing dangerously.

"That means nothing! That was my own fear and cowardice. My own fear of losing him, of changing our relationship and ruining it. It had nothing to do with not loving him! Absolutely nothing!" he retorted.

"I dunno, people generally want to marry people they're truly in love with. I mean, even Arthur, ARTHUR, nasty spiteful callous Arthur finally up and decided to just take the plunge with you. Yet you probably would have ditched him," the demon pondered, his face suddenly illuminating with inspiration at his own thought, "Oh hey! Maybe I can add that to my list! Might help us make the final decision!"

The mortal before him balked immediately with a squeak.

"No no no! Wait!" he cried, waving his hands feverishly, "Don't do that! It's nothing! That doesn't count! If I could do everything all over again it would be alright! I'd make it right I swear! You have to believe that my future with Arthur would have been bright. What we had… It was like nothing I ever had with anyone, I would have fought to keep it with everything I had! Because it was love, TRUE love. I knew it then and I know it now! We were meant to be! Soul mates!"

Both his inquisitors looked pensive a moment, considering his argument. They glanced at one another in silent communication, something passing between them Francis could not decipher, and then turned back to him with serious expressions once more.

"You say that now, after the fact and looking back on your life with the advantage of hindsight, and we do hear you, it's just…" the angel lamented with a heavy sigh, "We only have our records to go on, speculation and hypothesis on what might have become of you, of what could have been are just… Too weak. And even if we wanted to, we can't use them as grounds to make a decision, anyway. We can only judge you on your life as it was until the moment it ended. That's all."

And in just a few words, all hope, all passion, and efforts to charm and talk his way out of a predicament were instantaneously incinerated. Frustration and sorrow mounting, Francis tangled his hands into his wavy golden hair and ground his teeth, but still determined he remained steadfast in the battle for his own soul. Arthur would never forgive him if he gave up on himself, or conceded that the only thing he knew for sure about his life was never actually true; that he had indeed known the truest of love.

"Says who anyway? What rule is that?" he challenged bravely, "If you're at an impasse why not look at other things? Why not consider my heart and my feelings now at the end of my life? Perhaps you do not care, perhaps this is just another day of work for you, but this is everything to me! I died in the middle of a romance only poets and dreamers dared to describe the power of. It changed me, it brought me happiness like none I could have imagined beforehand, and yes, it was a tragically short portion of my life, but I will not sit idly by and let it count for nothing in my final judgment! I want Arthur to live his life believing that I will be waiting for him with open arms at the gates of Heaven to greet him. I want him to know what we had cannot be destroyed merely by us being separated, that love is far more powerful than death, and that I will always be with him, protecting him, watching over him, that I am a part of him forever. So if you cannot decide based solely on me, then… Look to Arthur. He is the other half of my soul…"

Francis finished his poetic rhetoric with a hand over his chest where he could almost still feel his valiant, lover's heart beating and his eyes to the bright sunny sky. The angel appeared moved, if only for a moment, while his devilish counterpart covered his mouth with a hand as if he were about to be physically ill.

"Yeah seriously… Not Hell material, for sure," the demon gurgled, looking strangely green.

The angel closed his eyes, looking torn beside his stricken partner, and chewed his lower lip for a moment before he weighed in.

"You make a compelling argument, Francis. You truly do, and I feel for you. I just…" he said, grimacing, "I just still have a hard time believing that what you and Arthur had was true love. Especially soul mates. People love to use that word but it is so uncommon, so rare and beautiful I can't help but dou-"

"Then let me prove it!" Francis proclaimed at last, his voice ringing clear above the luminescent clouds around them.

Angel and demon both lifted their eyes with curious interest toward Francis, glanced at one another, and then looked back at him, soliciting his further explanation.

"Let me prove it to you, if you don't believe me," Francis quickly repeated, "I'll do anything, whatever it takes! Let it be the deciding factor! The thing to tip the scales, as you put it! Let my fate ride on one final test!"

Taking a back seat to the proceedings for the most part, the demon had up until that point been content to simply snicker, poke fun and make offhanded remarks. Once the idea of an ultimatum came into play, it was he who stepped forward, his bright copper colored eyes eager.

"Like a bet, you mean?" he asked with relish, "A cosmic wager that you can prove to us that you really do love your little Brit and he loves you and are therefore worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven?"

Hope flared renewed in Francis' heart and he nodded vigorously. Finally, he seemed to have some measure of clout in the discussion, that edge of charm and wit he so prided himself on to win his way into anything he desired.

"Exactement! A little gamble! My soul against any task you design to prove myself in your eyes, however you may want to do so!" he agreed with a handsomely rakish grin.

A dark kind of gleeful plotting flickered over the demon's face as he considered the proposal. The resulting smirk told Francis he was already concocting the terms and conditions.

"I do love a good gamble," he purred, "And given the… Unforeseen complications of this case, perhaps this is exactly what we need. What say you, old friend?"

He turned toward the angel, who started slightly as if he had been in deep thought and unexpected to reply.

"I- Well, I don't know. It is a bit unorthodox, but… Not unheard of to pose some kind of a test toward a human soul in order to proceed with final judgment. What did you have in mind?" he asked skeptically.

"Well, since lover boy over here keeps claiming it's his undying love for Arthur that should be paying the balance on his one way ticket to the pearly gates, I'm thinking we let him show us just how much faith he has in the power of true love," the dark creature crooned.

The angel screwed his eyes shut hard and cupped his chin, but Francis would not give him the opportunity to dissent.

"My faith is absolute!" he assured them, striking a confident pose, "Anything! Ask anything of me and I will dazzle you with how deeply, indisputably, and passionately Arthur and I were in love!"

The demon grinned shrewdly, steepling his fingers and working very hard to contain his excitement. Francis could tell he already had some sort of a ploy or a test brewing in his horned head and braced himself for whatever it might be, which, judging by the sinful grin on his face, the Frenchman guessed would be no small task.

"Perfect… Then answer me this first. Do you REALLY believe in such a thing called true love?" the demon queried, hooding his eyes.

"More than anything in the world," came the loving answer.

"Do you truly believe, in your heart of hearts, that love knows no boundaries, no limitations, that it is, as you say, a stronger force than even death?" the demon went on in a musical tone, flourishing a hand darkly.

"Of course I do, I would not be staking my fate upon it if I did not! Love is the only force in the universe that could ever hope to best the darkest of them all. A light among lights, truth among truth!" Francis replied theatrically, unnerved by the approaching demon and the predatory gleam in his eye, but standing firm.

"Ahhh! Lovely! Then do you believe that love also conquers all, that love knows no reason nor rhyme? That it can bring down Gods and mortals alike, and can even alter destiny itself?" the teasing interrogation went on.

"Oui, oui, et oui. I have said that all my life and I still say it now!" Francis answered grandly, impervious.

Seemingly pleased with his answers and done with his jest, the demon cocked his head to the side with a wide, toothy smirk that finally revealed his long wicked fangs. He drew dramatically on his final query, letting the heavy aura of the weight of it settle over the trio gathered there in the pure white nothingness before he finally spoke.

"Do you believe then that love is… Blind?" he asked, slowly, lingering on the last word like some kind of magical incantation.

Perplexed by the question, Francis frowned, but dared not hesitate to answer.

"Oui… I do, love is nothing if not blind. A force that cannot be explained by mere sight, or even touch, sound, scent alone… A feeling between two people that is pure and absolute," he replied carefully.

"Fantastic!" the demon sang, clasping his hands, "Then would you, Francis Bonnefoy, be willing to stake your very fate, your soul, on your UNYEILDING faith that your Arthur would love you in return, no matter what? No matter what might happen between you, no matter how insurmountable the odds, no matter the situation or existence or even… What you look like…?"

Francis knew not what conclusion the demon was aiming toward, but for his soul, for his love, to prove himself right against the very forces of the universe itself, he would have agreed to pretty much anything.

"Bien sûr, mes amis!" he chorused, a mischievous glint in his eye once more, "No matter what obstacle may lie in our path, I personally guarantee, and hang my fate upon the fact that Arthur would love me as truly and deeply as he always did. For the flame of our love will burn eternally!"

The demon threw his head back in raucous, mirthful laughter, while beside him, the angel seemed to have realized what he was scheming and wore a stark expression of horror. He shook his head stiffly, sky blue eyes wide as his hand strayed once again to the hilt of the golden blade strapped to his hip.

"Oh no… Nooo no. You are not thinking what I think you're thinking. That is-! It's simply-! It's ludicrous! It's insane!" he protested.

"Awwww. Why not? We need something to make a decision on, he's willing to prove himself, and I say we let him!" the demon announced, sliding over and slinging an arm over his companion, "Come ooooon. It's been so LONG since we had a little fun with a case! We used to do stuff like this all the time, remember?"

White wings rustled nervously, and sky blue eyes shifted to the side as a light color rose in the angel's ivory cheeks.

"Well I… Th-That was a different time! The rules were a little more nebulous back then and we had more power. And not to mention that was before I was sanctioned so many times for toying with mortals unnecessarily, thanks to you and your little games!" he hissed.

"But this time it's perfect! We have the toughest case of a century, a willing soul AND the right circumstance to make a REALLY interesting bet of it!" the demon persisted, flashing a grin back toward Francis, "Francis here is willing to try anything, he said! Even something crazy! You say your Arthur would feel your love, reawaken to it, rekindle it, no matter what, right? So… If we say… Sent you back to Earth, but! This time in a different body. A different face, a different voice, different touch! Would that not be the ultimate test of faith? If he fell in love with you all over again, despite not even being the Francis he knows, would that not be irrefutable proof that your love was in fact, true love?"

Francis felt as if the truck had hit him all over again in one gruesome instant. His head spun, his jaw fell open, and his mind came to a screeching halt against the sheer magnitude of what had just been offered to him. He had a second chance. A completely insane, reckless, and potentially disastrous second chance, but a second chance nonetheless. He could return to life. He could return to Arthur, romance him all over again, hold him, hear his voice and smell his familiar scent of old books and tea one last time. He could save his own soul and be granted his stolen opportunity to bid a final farewell to the only man who had ever managed to capture his heart.

"You can… You can really do that?" Francis finally asked breathlessly.

"Duh! Powers that be here, Francis! Powers that be!" the demon snorted.

The angel sighed and nodded, as much as he hated to agree with his counterpart.

"Technically yes. We can do pretty much anything within reason, and as I mentioned we… Do make exceptions in special cases such as yours in order to come to a final decision," he confessed, rubbing his temples.

"Then let me try!" Francis implored once more, "Return me to Earth, make me a deal! I will do it, no matter what the odds are! S'il vous plaît!"

Suddenly finding himself in the hopeful gaze of both Francis and his insufferable partner, the angel grimaced, fidgeted, and mumbled until he was forced to at least budge with a groan.

"But we don't even have a form for him to take! We can't exactly create a brand new vessel for him out of nothing, and it may take months, years, before we can find a suitable replacement," he objected.

The demon cracked a crooked grin and reached out to flick the golden halo of light around his head smartly. It jostled merrily around his skull, and he delighted in the indignant squeak it drew out of the angel as he seized it to steady it.

"C'mon pal, give me a little more credit than that! Don't you think I already had something in mind? As it just so happens to turn out there IS a nice, healthy young body that is currently unoccupied and prime for our buddy here to use!" the demon snickered.

Francis perked up immediately, blue eyes glittering with hope.

"Vraiment?" he piped.

"Oh yes. A lost little soul trapped in between existences just like you! And as it so happens… One you already know quite well. And so does Arthur…" the grinning demon extrapolated.

Before Francis could open his mouth to question, and almost before he could even furrow his brow in confusion, the demon flourished his hands and bade the clouds beside him to rise with a brilliant flash of light. They obeyed, rose into a swirling column, and just as quickly burst into glittering mist, leaving behind a tall, male figure in their wake. Francis took one innocent glance and knew in one horrible fraction of a second exactly who it was. The soul presented to him was one he had met but a few times, but felt he knew more intimately than he ever wanted to. His was a cursed, forbidden name so often accompanied by the foulest obscenities known to man, hurled objects, and fiery rage hotter than the very flames of hell itself. A devil among men, a liar, a tramp, an immature brat and countless other evil roles that could only be ascribed to someone who had broken his beloved's heart so totally and so badly, he had come to jokingly refer to him to his friends as 'he who must not be named." The form he was to occupy was the very definition of wickedness; the evil twin to his beloved employee, the most reviled ex boyfriend in the history of ex boyfriends, and a demon in a leather bomber jacket.

Beside him, suspended peacefully in midair with his eyes closed in the same white robe with his flyaway hair and his rectangular glasses still perched on his nose, was the unmistakable figure of Alfred F. Jones.


Whoa whoa whoa, hold the phone! The hell is HE doing here? Well I know, of course, but I'm not telling! So what in the world does Alfred have to do with all of this? And what will be the terms of Francis' little bet? Bet he's wishing he took his chances with Hell about now hehe. Find out next time when all mysteries will be revealed and Francis begins the battle for his very own soul. Stay tuned!