Author's Note: HEEEEEY so I'm back! 8D Miss me? I missed you too ; 3 ;! Sorry I took forever and a day on this chapter but it unfortunately sort of got stuck in the perfect storm of writer's block and IRL. I am currently looking for a permanent career job as my current one is not only balls but temporary :T And those of you who have ever had the misfortune of having to search for a career know how much THAT sucks. You kiddies who are still in school enjoy it while you caaaan D: But here I am! Your fairy god crow with some delicious fan ficcery! C: So sit back and enjoy, and I promise now I'll update soon! (My hours were just cut at work after all :T!)

-Crow


Chapter 4

Being Alfred F. Jones

A long, shrill scream echoed far over the rolling plains of clouds and pierced the heavens with the sheer magnitude of its ire. Angel and demon both cringed and covered their ears in the aftermath as a hysterical Francis pointed frantically toward the spirit beside him.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? What the HELL is THIS?" he screeched.

The demon pursed his lips, affronted, and put his hands on his hips.

"Looks like one Alfred F. Jones to me. You know! Works with Arthur, had a tumultuous love affair with him that ended disastrously, continued to haunt your own relationship until the day you died, general lazy nuisance to many!" he replied.

"I am all too painfully aware of WHO it is, but WHY is he here?" Francis clarified, seething through his teeth.

"Bro you're dead, not deaf, I just now told you, he's available!" the demon went on, snapping his fingers toward the second mortal summoned to the scene.

Alfred stirred at the sharp sound as if prodded from a long and much needed repose. His eyes squeezed shut before they fluttered open while he drifted slowly to alight on the ground on bare feet. He touched down with light, fluid grace, lifted his head as his playful cobalt eyes lit with consciousness, and looked around his surroundings with curiosity. A slight frown marred his youthful face as he took in the same initial sight of the boundless clouds that Francis had, then transformed into one of shock as he spotted the angel and demon keeping a vigil over him. His head whipped around in disbelief and he finally took in the view of a chagrined Francis beside him with his arms over his chest, doing his best to reduce him to a pile of ash with naught but his venomous glare. The sandy-haired, bespectacled youth stared at him the longest, his gaze unwavering, scrutinizing, recognition clear in his eyes before he whistled through his teeth in awe.

"Dude…" Alfred whispered at last, "Mattie was totally right after all about that whole sugar before bed gives you nightmares thing!"

Francis twitched, unamused.

"Don't look at ME when you say things like that, gosse odieux!" he snapped.

Alfred recoiled, as if shocked his dream would actually talk back to him, and held up his arms defensively.

"Damn! Since when do my dreams talk smack? …And call me weird made-up names in hideous languages?" he pondered aloud.

The scowl on Francis' face deepened and he balled his fists at his sides.

"First of all. This isn't a dream, and second of all that was FRENCH you uneducated-"

"Enough! Alfred F. Jones!" the angel cut in abruptly, the frustration clear on his face and in his words.

Alfred turned around to face him, eyes obliviously wide and unafraid.

"Yo?"

"Allow me to explain, again. Before this turns into another comedy of errors," the angel sighed, rubbing his temples, "This is Francis, I'm sure you know who he is. You have met before. Francis is dead, this is I guess what you might call purgatory, I am a representative from Heaven, my esteemed colleague here is some low level lackey from Hell, and we have been unable to determine which destination he is to proceed on to and we have decided unofficially to pose a task to him so we need your body… Seeing as you have been in a coma since about a week before he died and currently have no use for it."

The angel rattled off the current state of affairs in a brusque tone, and a stark look of horrified remembrance crossed Alfred's face.

"Oh crap… That's right…" he realized aloud, putting a hand to his forehead.

Francis too, seemed to remember at last that Matthew had mentioned something about his brother and an accident some time prior to his own, and that was the reason for the leave of absence he had requested. He had not, however, divulged any sort of detail as to the nature of his older brother's misfortune.

"A coma? What the hell happened to you?" Francis asked nastily.

Alfred regarded him with a blank stare for several moments and Francis could see the thoughts churning painfully in his head. He quickly righted himself, cocked his hips with his usual brash confidence and grinned with a booming laugh.

"Dude it was like, totally awesome, you should have been there! Check it! So me and Mattie are up in this bumpin' club, right? And we've got some cool brewskies for cheap, tunes are pretty sweet, but the best part was we spotted these two total hotties alone at the bar ripe for the picking! One for each of us! Mattie's not nearly as slick with the ladies as me, so I drag him over and we start chatting them up, you know? But soon as we get them all giggly and blushing and playing with their hair and order a round, their huge, roid raging, wannabe jock ex-boyfriends show up! And they're all, 'Hands off our bitches, fags!' and I was all, 'We can talk this out, like gentleman and shit!" and they were like, 'We'll fuck you up, like gentleman and shit!' so then I'm like, 'Bring it!' And then these two huge mothers leap on me like the goddamn Hulk or something! And I'm throwing punches like crazy and Mattie and the girls are screaming and the two jerks are grabbing me and kicking me and I'm biting and wrestling and we tear up the place in an epic battle of good versus evil! I'm taking on TWO guys like a total hero but they shove me out of the club and onto the balcony! I give'em a left hook! And a wicked right! And a swift kick to the balls for good measure! But that just pisses them off and in the end they get me trapped like a rat, back against the railing and nowhere to go but DOWN! They pick me up and they're all, 'Hasta la vista, baby!' and then, they hurl me over the side like nothing! And I'm all, 'NOOOOOO!' but it's too late and I fall like 100 feet AT LEAST and BAM! Hit the ground! Instant coma!"

The fantastical story was accompanied by an energetic pantomime of the entire incident, complete with voices, his own hand choking him and wildly jabbing punches, and even throwing himself to the cloudy ground at the end for his dramatic fall. Francis stared at him skeptically, his eyes narrowed, somehow not quite swayed by what was supposed to be a gripping tale of heroism. Mirthful laughter erupted from the direction of the two immortals standing beside them, and they both turned at once toward the curly-haired demon who was doubled over in hysterics.

"Give me a break! That's not even close to what happened!" he guffawed, "Though a pretty badass story, I'll give you that! I'll tell you what REALLY happened! You were flexing and vogueing it up in front of the mirror alone in the bathroom after a shower like you always do, admiring that body and those RIPPED muscles of yours, and you slipped in the not unsubstantial puddles you always leave, fell and hit your head on the toilet!"

The demon had to stop, his snickering overcoming him, while Alfred's face washed in mortified horror.

"You cracked your skull in three places and almost bled out before your brother finally found you! Naked in the bathroom in a pool of your own blood!" he added, howling amusedly and pointing toward him.

Then, it was finally Francis' turn to join in the laughter, throwing his head back with a peal of musical glee.

"Oh, that is just delightful! Just the way I would have imagined it! Were you practicing your pick-up lines in the mirror, too?" he cackled with relish.

Much to his satisfaction, Alfred winced and balled his fists, as only a comment that struck a sore nerve could have achieved.

"Shut up! Those lines happen to work every time, thank you! And I bet you croaked choking on a snail or a baguette or whatever!" he countered.

The laughter persisted, even despite the quip.

"You would assume death by food," Francis chortled, lifting his nose in the air, "It was a car accident, I shall have you know! A pretty spectacular one, too. I was hit by an eighteen-wheeler. And didn't even perish the first time! Ran me clear off the highway and then crushed me again against a tree."

Francis grinned as he recounted his own tragically brutal death, and Alfred's eyes went wide in momentary awe before he puffed out his cheeks and turned away.

"Pffft, car accident, that's a bitch way to go out. Least mine'll make a funny story when I wake up," he pouted.

"Amusing to WHOM?" Francis scoffed, still snickering, "The criminally insane?"

The younger soul whirled around on him again, blue eyes flashing behind his glasses.

"Dude, serious! What the hell is your problem with me anyway? What'd I ever do to you?" he demanded.

The oblivious ignorance of those shocking words turned the mockingly amused laughter from the other mortal bitter.

"What did you do? What did you DO? You seriously have to ask? You shattered my Arthur's heart into a thousand pieces! That's what you did! He was haunted by the ghost of you for so long, even I had a part of finally chasing you from his life and making him smile again! You continued to be a pall on our love even to this day on occasion! Your very name became a curse!" he informed him in as mordant a tone as he could muster.

Alfred listened, blinking cluelessly, until it all percolated into his brain and formed a very clear picture of the reason for the Frenchman's disdain. A knowing smirk crept over his face as his eyes narrowed shrewdly.

"Ohhh, that's right, you are Artie's new squeeze, huh? Or should I say old flame?" he queried smugly, closing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest, "I totally get you now. Mmmmyup, sure do! I know how hard it is to get over the old Al-pha dog. It's no wonder Artie kept on thinkin' about me. But you can't tie Alfred F. Jones down, no sir! I am a free bird, a lone wolf! You know what I'm sayin'?"

"Al… Pha dog…? Ugh, dégoûtant. You do not seriously call yourself that do you?" Francis said as he recoiled.

"Jeeeeealous?" Alfred crowed, puffing out his chest again.

"Jamais! Why would I even think of being jealous of you?" the other rebuked with revulsion.

"Sounds to me like you have plenty of reasons! A. I'm a total fox. B. Artie probably still calls my name in bed. And C. You're dead, I'm just in a coma, I get to wake up!" came the chipper answer as Alfred counted off on his fingers.

A deep, scathing silence settled over all gathered there in that indistinct spot in the middle of limbo. The angel and the demon watched with interest as Francis became still and silent as a marble statue, fury flickering in his cobalt eyes, and Alfred put his hands on his hips with earsplitting laughter. The standoff endured for what may as well have been eternity before finally, it was Francis who snapped, eyes wild and chest heaving as he seethed and struggled to form coherent words in his blinding outrage.

"Did you hear-? Did he really just say-? I can't believe you'd even SUGGEST-! He's nothing but a-! Do you REALLY expect me to go back as… As-! As THAT?" he screeched, pointing a finger back toward a still cackling Alfred, "This is IMPOSSIBLE! I'd have a better chance of winning Arthur back as an actual talking FROG than that imbecile!"

Neither the insult, nor the ironic choice of animal seemed to faze Alfred, but a curious realization did dawn across his youthful face.

"Yeah what's up with that, anyway? I kinda sorta heard you say something about needing my body before? Probably shoulda been paying attention to that part… Cause, I'm not so sure I'm cool with yanno, giving up the steering wheel, so to speak?" he interjected, holding up a finger.

Taking the opportunity to get a word in edgewise in the chaos that had erupted from his partner's choice of a surrogate body, the angel stepped forward, blue eyes hard and serious and radiating a commanding light.

"If you had listened the first time, you would have heard. We are trying, trying so very… VERY hard to determine if Francis will cross over to Heaven or Hell, and it seems the best we can come up with is to give him a challenge to finally give us something definitive to work with. Since you are not currently occupying your body, we would send him back to take it for a short time. He has wagered his immortal soul that Arthur's love for him will endure, and that he can rekindle it again, even in a form not his own. You… Just so happened to be the best candidate at the time," he explained, sighing and casting an accusatory glare at the demon behind him.

The demon shrugged nonchalantly while Alfred thumbed his chin in thought.

"Whoa, that's like straight out of a comic book or a really bad movie or something! So Francis here goes back to Earth in my body, chats up Artie, they hit it off and make some kissy face and then he gets to climb the stairway to Heaven? But if not it's straight down to h-e-double hockey sticks?" he surmised in a chipper tone.

"That's the idea, yes," dryly responded the angel.

"Well then what's in it for me?" came the immediate and still too blithe demand, "I mean that's a pretty tall order and all. Can't expect me to give up the goods for free. Why the hell should I let him use this hotness to win back my ex-boyfriend?"

"My current lover. And your ex-boyfriend because YOU left HIM!" Francis made sure to remind him from the sidelines.

"Still!" Alfred insisted with all the aloof and amused confidence he had begun with, lifting his chin, "Guy code, you know? You're NEVER allowed to be cool with someone else dating your ex! Much less help the new guy out!"

"Guy code…? What guy code? There is no mystical code that says that! You two aren't together anymore, what was Arthur supposed to do after you broke up? Take a vow of celibacy and join the priesthood? I mean honestly!" Francis sniffed, far less amused than his spirit companion.

"No, I'm just not supposed to support him being with anyone else! Duh! C'mon! You get it! Guy code!" insisted the other.

"No, I do not get it. I do not get it at all! That makes absolutely no sense! If you're broken up and you were the one who ended it, why should you care what he does or who he dates?"

The American looked so deeply confused, Francis wondered for a moment if he had slipped into French again.

"Because!" he finally answered, "It's like-! You know when you're with someone, and even if you don't like them you don't want them to do well after you or whatever? You can't just be COOL. Because I've been there, done that you know? You gotta want them to still be missing you and junk 'cause-! I dunno, it's just the rule!"

Not a single intelligent response Francis could come up with seemed worthy enough to even waste his breath, so he turned, deadpan, back to the angel and demon.

"This is not going to work," he muttered.

"It totally could. Seeing how awesome I am. But, I still don't see any good reason why I should give up MY body when Artie's done with me and I don't even have a chance with him afterward!" Alfred retorted smugly.

The angel simply sighed, seeing the plan he had never favored falling apart and not truly desirous of a solution to fix it. Francis buried his face in his hands with a dramatic wail, moaning and shaking his head as he blubbered on in muffled French. Sensing his fun was about to be completely spoiled, however, the demon stepped forward, copper eyes glinting and hands spread out welcomingly.

"Oh you have a pretty good reason, I'd say. You are in a coma, yes, however! Your brain is scrambled egg about now. So in reality, we're probably just waiting for your dear little brother to have to pull the plug," he added with dark enchantment.

Alfred balked in horror, Francis' head jerked up, and he swore he saw him drain of all color, despite being but a spirit. Despite his teasing and his purposefully obnoxious words, to be reminded once more of the very real tragedy they had all unwittingly become players in sobered them both instantly.

"I mean, you COULD get better on your own, maybe… But, you could also be a champ let Francis use your body so we can play our little game, and then not only will I personally make sure you make a miraculous recovery, I'll… Erase a few things off your naughty list, shall we say? Otherwise you're on the right track to seeing me again nice and soon. You haven't exactly been a saint yourself," the demon purred.

The two mortals both gasped softly in unison and each turned to regard each other wordlessly, calmly, and with reason for the first time since arriving in the afterlife. Two pairs of blue eyes met in silent and sudden camaraderie in the face of mutual destruction, each somehow gazing straight into the heart of the other past their initial blaze of enmity. Francis knew Alfred longed to continue his wild young life that had only just begun, that he was horrified at the thought of his sweet, innocent little brother having to order his demise, loathe as he was to allow someone else to occupy his earthly body, and that despite his bravado he truly wished for Arthur's happiness. Alfred could all too clearly see the love and passion for him in Francis' very essence, the broken heart, and the willingness to do anything in his power to protect Arthur and to watch over him, even if their time together had been cut tragically short. No words passed between them, but the angel and the demon could sense even more acutely than either mortal that each was beginning to believe in the impossible. Francis and Alfred wanted the same things, in the end, and at last they finally saw a spark of a plan, a crazy, completely insane, utterly moronic idea that just might work after all.

"Besides!" the demon broke the quiet boisterously, "Come on Francis! What happened to your gallant knight in shining armor attitude before about doing anything to ensure you could be waiting for Arthur in Heaven when he comes to join you? What about soul mates? Meant to be? True love!"

Francis looked up to his grinning countenance, his face softening and eyes glinting with love and regret.

"And Alfred!" the demon continued, turning to the second mortal to appeal to him, "You fancy yourself a hero right? You and Arthur aren't together anymore, but you still care about the guy, don't you? Wouldn't you want to help the man he ended up falling in love with? Don't you want to give him some kind of a happily ever after? For both their sakes!"

A crooked smirk crept over Alfred's lips and he snorted with laughter as he cocked his head back toward the Frenchman.

"Yeah… Sorry, I guess now isn't really a time to be yanking your chain like I did. And I suppose you and Artie do deserve a happy ending, even if it's not really the one you might have liked," he admitted warmly.

Francis returned the smile and the laugh genuinely.

"And I suppose you do deserve to live, as much as mon cher Arthur might wish the opposite," he affirmed, bowing his head sorrowfully to breathe the name of his love once more.

The pain did not go unnoticed by Alfred, whose smile turned sympathetically mournful.

"You really do love him, don't you?" he noted tenderly.

The ache in Francis' very soul throbbed acutely again as he nodded and pressed his hands to his chest.

"More than anything…" he breathed.

"Then hey, maybe this idea is just crazy enough to work!" Alfred piped, laying a hand on Francis' shoulder and making a firm fist with the other, "It'll be the greatest love story ever told! Or… The greatest ghost story ever told… Ugh, wait no, no way! Never mind, not a ghost story. Definitely love! We'll go with love!"

He winked rakishly, and Francis couldn't help but be swept up into his infectious optimism.

"Most decidedly an epic tale of l'amour most deep, and most true, but a little bit of a ghost story as well," he teased with a snicker.

Alfred shuddered and flailed in protest but into their newfound agreement the demon stepped once more.

"So!" he announced, clapping his hands with a devilish grin, "We have a battle plan?"

"I suppose we have…" Francis replied with amused disbelief.

"Definitely! I'll be more than happy to let Frankie here use my body!" Alfred concurred as he slung an arm around his shoulders.

Where once there was wistful acceptance of fate and a deal that would test his very soul to the limit, instant disgust marred his handsome features.

"…Frankie? Where the hell did that come from?" the man in question balked.

The American threw his head back with forceful laughter and jabbed a finger into his new partner's chest.

"Dude, you gotta know Francis is pretty much like the girliest guy name ever. If we're gonna be partners I need something way manlier to call you! Frankie sounds kinda tough and cool! Like a New York cab driver or something, you know?" he explained, laughing again.

"I happen to like Francis…" he groused to himself through the din.

And only silence greeted Alfred as the angel and demon finally roused again to get to business and joined the two mortals. The demon was practically jumping out of his skin with uncontained, childish excitement, but the angel beside him still looked stony and skeptical.

"You two are truly willing to do this?" he queried.

Alfred gave him his best military salute and a beaming grin, while Francis flourished a hand and dipped low in a gentlemanly bow.

"Sir, yes sir!"

"I accept your challenge, messieurs, and I intend to dazzle you both!"

Still not convinced, sky blue eyes narrowed and scoured both blondes before him. Their bold confidence and renewed determination was bright as the sun above and they both courageously met his eyes in silent promise of their intentions. He turned to look at his dark counterpart who clasped his hands and begged with a jubilant and out of place innocent hope on his scruffy face. All three pairs of eyes were on him, silent, pleading, and waiting on tenterhooks for an answer, so he had no choice but to acquiesce.

"Oh, very well…" the angel conceded snappishly, "If only because I myself am rather curious to see how this will go. Human beings are certainly capricious, yet stubborn creatures. And it has been a while since I got to see a little of their resiliency and tenacity."

"YES!" the demon cried, leaping into the air and pumping a fist, "I KNEW there was still some fun in you, old chum! I knew it! Now! Shall we attend to the details of the deal?"

A flourish of a clawed hand in the air and a plume of flame and black smoke conjured yet another scroll in the demon's hand, but a simple one of white parchment and a golden rod ornamented with a holy crown of heaven on one end and a black jagged one of hell on the other. It drifted out into midair in front of the demon to make official the holy pact between the Underworld and the Kingdom of Angels, unfurled, and turned to face the mortals as a quill materialized from thin air and began to write of its own accord, recording the narration for every word.

"Firstly," the angel began in an authoritative voice, "Francis shall take the unoccupied body of Alfred. He shall live his earthly existence, assume his name, his form and to everyone he shall appear to be none other than the man himself. His task is to win the heart of one Arthur Kirkland once more, using any method he deems appropriate."

"Oh oh! And he should have the same amount of time to woo his dear Sir Arthur as he did the first time! Just so we're not sitting around bored. How long did it take to get little Art all nice and wrapped around your finger huh?" the demon asked.

Francis frowned, thinking back.

"Uh… I'm not sure… The better part of half a year or so?" he replied.

"Perfect! We're halfway through the year now, so you have until the clock tolls midnight, December thirty first, to get Arthur to…" the demon continued pausing as he thought and grinning wickedly as inspiration struck, "To get Arthur to say he LOVES you."

The pen inked the terms with flighty precision, and Francis nodded resolutely.

"Bon. And then what of afterward?" he posed firmly, "Am I to win his heart, only to break it again when I have to leave?"

It was the angel who answered immediately with a firm shake of his head as he pointed to the quill.

"No, of course not. No innocent souls shall be hurt because of this. Arthur shall not remember the incident afterward. No one will. To him, it will be as if he were only touched by your spirit in a dream, and we will ensure he is left with nothing but closure and happiness," he promised.

Relieved, Francis nodded and smiled as the list grew longer.

"And what about me? Don't I get to go back and help out and make sure my body's okay? It's kinda my body and all. And no offense Frankie, but you are gonna royally suck at being me without my help!" Alfred interjected.

A shudder wracked the form beside him, but the angel and demon regarded each other, shrugged, and gestured in unison to the fluttering pen.

"Sounds fair to me, Alfred gets to go, too!" the demon chorused.

"And you cannot tell anyone the truth about this bet. You must not tell anyone who you really are, what you must do, or the terms in any form. You must live as if you are truly Alfred or you will be instantly disqualified."

"Ohh good one. Oh, and we get to hang around to watch, too! And maybe intervene if needed."

"Agreed, and then at the end of six months we will convene again and compare our findings. Depending upon what we see…" the angel mused, looking down and meeting Francis' gaze pointedly, "We will grant you… A second chance."

The choice of words and the tone of his kind, controlled voice struck Francis, but he dared not question his judgment as the last lines of the contract were drawn and the pen struck two neat lines for signatures at the bottom. The angel swept his open palm toward the completed document and spread his wings, bowing cordially.

"Then our pact is complete, all we need is your consent."

Francis and Alfred turned to each other once more in unison. Alfred flashed him a grin that seemed to say, 'here goes nothing' with a thumbs up, and gestured toward the awaiting quill. Francis smirked and stepped forward to take it first, lifting his hand to the first welcoming line.

"Here goes nothing, indeed," he murmured as he gracefully signed his name in looping script that glowed bright gold.

He handed the pen off to Alfred who signed his own name underneath his in bold blocky print, complete with lopsided stars on either end. The moment he lifted the nib from off of the paper the pen vanished in a flash of light and smoke. The scroll snapped up and rolled back neatly around the rod before it too burst into a scatter of light and disappeared. Francis watched in awe, opening his mouth to inquire what would happen next, but before he could even form a coherent question he was overcome by a feeling of tipping backward by some unnatural force. The clouds opened up beneath him and a fierce wind whipped up from the chasm like ethereal hands to yank him backward and send him hurtling back down to earth. A tiny squeak emitted from his throat, but nothing more, and the last thing he saw before he plummeted into freefall was the grinning face of the demon as he waved coyly in farewell.

"Catch you on the flip side. Frankie…"

A gasp escaped his lips, which turned into a strangled scream, and Alfred craned over, eyes wide, as he watched the spirit topple into the open blue strata.

"Haha! Awesome! Wait for me, buddy!" he guffawed, and took a flying leap, canon ball style, through the portal in the clouds after him, "Geronimoooo!"

Alfred whooped and hollered with glee as he fell after a still screeching Francis who flipped and tumbled and watched in sheer terror as the ground rose to meet him. He recognized the verdant sprawl of Applewood once more, then more clearly the bustling downtown area, and lastly the distinctive towering medical plaza, which he swore he saw a black, mystical target emblazoned on top of before he plunged through the roof. Several floors of patient rooms he shot through as if he weren't even there, passing through insulation, air conditioning ducts, and the occasional body or two before finally, in the intensive care unit he zeroed in on the disturbingly peaceful form of Alfred in his hospital bed. His form showed no signs of stopping, or even slowing down, and as he rocketed on the collision course with the limp body of the bouncy younger man he crossed his arms protectively over his face. Francis felt the distinct sensation of a thrum of life in his chest and a breath of recycled air through a ventilator filling his lungs before he slammed into his new body and everything went black.


And now we finally get to the goods! Francis has struck a deal, and he seems preeeeeetty confident in himself. But can he REALLY make it as Alfred? Really? Much less attempt to get past Arthur's prickly skin once again? Find out next time!