Author's note: well, this is 13figureskater-Draco'sgirl again, but I didn't write this chapter. She did, but I didn't want to wait for her to make an A/N for it, so I did instead... Yeah, this came from a conversation where we decided we didn't want to end the story and decided to bring Dei back. As you will notice, she ended it HORRIBLY and is making me write the next part. -sigh-. and no, none of this is mine, and if you want to know which parts are hers, you will have to ask her.

Deidara Returns to Swipe the Happy Story and Finish it Off with a Bang

Deidara was getting tired of the waiting. Of course, this was supposed to be what hells were like, right?

He wasn't quite sure how time was passing, or if it was even passing at all. He just knew that there was a stupid long line, and the guy in front of him smelled like the bottom of a lake. Scratch that, there were two lines, almost side by side, but the neon blue liquid gushing in between them like a waterfall in reverse made it clear no line jumping was allowed. Either that or the road to hell was paved with water shows.

But it was just an annoyance. He really didn't care. This was just a stupid wait until he got to a nice, peaceful final resting place. Any hell would promise an existence more peaceful than the time he'd spent alive. After all, wherever he ended up, there would be no Michiko.

There would be no Michiko to ignore him, no Michiko to insult him. No Michiko to laugh at him, no Michiko to laugh with him. No Michiko to pick him up, no Michiko to use him, no Michiko to crumple him up, no Michiko to toss him aside. No Michiko to pretend to love him… no Michiko – period…

Deidara glanced up when the smelly man in front of him disappeared. No special effects, no nothing: just there one second and gone the next. He found himself looking at a woman with pale skin tinted swamp green and blonde hair tinted poison apple red sitting behind a desk. One sweep of it gave him the impression of someone with a hellishly organized mind, even if she was almost as beautiful as Michiko. He winced when the thought ran through his mind, and the woman gave him a brusque look which turned to distaste when she spotted his hands.

"Hello, sir," she told him quickly, reaching out and plucking a clipboard out of mid-air. He watched her curiously as her eyes ran down it, running to the left and twitching back to the right as she read each new line. "We have some blanks to fill in, Deidara," she informed him as she plucked a pen from the air as well. "I'll show an inkblot, and you'll tell me what you see."

Deidara's eye widened briefly out of shock, and for the first time a smirk graced the woman's lips.

"Good. Just a verification thing, to make sure it's actually you" she assured him. "We don't want anyone sneaking in."

He was going to ask her who the hells would want to sneak into the hells, but decided against it. She looked disdainful enough already.

"So where are you going?"

Deidara was confused. "What? I thought that's what I was here to find out…?"

She sighed in an overly exasperated manner. "No one's ever prepared…" she muttered under her breath, slapping down the clipboard and not quite glaring at him. "Occupation."

He assumed it was a question. "Erm… Criminal?"

She looked down at the clipboard and jotted something down. "Specific."

"…What?" he asked helplessly. He so hadn't been ready for this.

"What did you do?" she demanded impatiently.

"Kill people," he said, not without a note of residual pride.

"How."

"Art." He smirked when she glanced up at him, a frown creasing her forehead. "I guess they were all just blown away…"

He thought maybe he saw her smile, but before he could be sure it was gone again. "Okay, so far I've got you penned in either fifth or sixth circle," she said, though not looking at him. "Hmm… How about method of death? I've got suicide here, but we need some of the details."

"Well, yes, technically." He shrugged. "I mean, I didn't kill myself, but I had someone else do it for me."

"Mmhm," she muttered, nodding slightly. "Maybe if you're lucky we can get you into seventh circle. "How were you killed?"

"To be honest I'm not really sure: she just looked at me and here I am. Not much of a drama."

She frowned again. "Who killed you?" she asked wearily, like she really just wanted to get rid of him and move on to the next person in the never-ending line.

Maybe this was her hell. Maybe this was her personal hell, checking people in and such. Deidara didn't dwell on it; it was too disconcerting. It made him wonder he'd be spending his time.

"Who killed you?" she reiterated crossly, waving a hand in front of his face.

"What?" he asked automatically as he reoriented himself. "Eris."

At that the woman paused. No, not just paused; she froze. She looked over to the right and Deidara couldn't help but follow the direction of her gaze. He found another woman in another desk catering to the other line, but she had frozen as well.

The two were like twin statues. Identical twins, perhaps, or clones at the very least. They both stared at each other, perfectly still, as if someone had slid a mirror into the small gap between their desks.

They remained like that for a short while. Then suddenly, as if on cue, they straightened and looked at each other knowingly, then turned to him, eyebrows arched. He really hadn't been expecting what came next.

Again, at the same time, they lolled their heads back, dropped their jaws, and screamed. It was very pervasive, the high-pitched sound burrowing into his ears, seeping the pain into his core like a sadist's knife.

Then they stopped. The other twin woman went back to the woman standing in front of her desk, who was stuck with enough needles to look like a pincushion and hadn't seemed to have noticed that anything out of the ordinary had happened.

"Please go to the waiting room," his twin snipped at him, pushing the clipboard into his hands. "The Master will be here shortly."

Deidara was aching to ask her what the hells had just happened when he suddenly found he could not work his mouth open. It was very frustrating. Defeated, he turned to the left and found that instead of the vast barren waste that had been there before, now a door stood erect with the words "Waiting Room" painted on its knotted surface. He trudged over and pushed it open cautiously, listening to the tortured creaking the hinges unleashed.

The room was horrible. It had a sofa and two chairs. And a table. At first it seemed normal, but then he got to looking at it and found there was something horribly familiar about it.

Everything was white, except for the walls, which were painted vomit green. There were hooks on the walls, he presumed, because white coats hung there in neat rows, as if waiting to be occupied. There was neat little tidy desk, with a stack of inkblots splayed across its gleaming surface.

When he finally sat down he sunk into one of the chairs, leaning into it rather uneasily, eyes darting around the room. It was so sterile, so blank, so lifeless. It was getting to him. He tilted his head back to take a deep, calming breath and gave a bleat of terror instead.

There was a face looking back at him from the top of the high-backed chair, grinning at him. Then it moved to the left, and a body followed, wrapped in a deep green cloak, the hood pushed back to reveal a completely normal face. His eyes were ashen grey, and his hair was nearly translucent, but he was still normal looking. He was toting a scythe, too, and he stood it up and leaned against it like a wall, even though it seemed it should fall over.

"So, Deidara," he grinned. "You're dead."

He wasn't quite sure how to respond top that. "…Yes," he confirmed hesitantly, and the man grinned.

"Eris killed you?" he asked cheerfully

"…Yes." The man grinned again, clapping his hands together like a small child.

"Excellent!"

"…So why am I here?"

"Deidara, this is where dead people come," the man chided mockingly. "But you have yet to figure out who I am." The man waited eagerly for a few moments, then frowned when he didn't respond. "I'm Ripowal… The God of Death…?" he prompted.

"Okay." Deidara shrugged. "I still don't see what that has to do with anything."

Ripowal frowned briefly before smirking again. "I was part of the movement to get Eris banished to your world."

Deidara just stared at him. This was called the waiting room, but he was sick of waiting.

Ripowal sighed theatrically. "Eris is my little sister."

That made him sit up a little straighter. "So…?"

"So I'm going to send you back."

"What? Why? If I wanted to be back there I wouldn't be here in the first place!"

"Well, I'm the God of Death, so it doesn't really matter what you want. You see, Eris killed you, right?"

"Well, yes, but I don't see how-"

"Then you must have annoyed her, right?"

"Actually-"

"So I'm sending you back. Last time I took someone she knew she begged and begged for me not to take him, so this time I'm giving her back her human, just to annoy her. Do you promise to bother her?"

"Well, I didn't even have to try before, but-"

"Good. Goodbye, Deidara. Have fun for me!" Ripowal waved a farewell and before Deidara could even move he had ripped a wound in the vomit wall with his scythe. It sucked him towards it, and Deidara didn't even bother fighting it anymore. He was doomed to go back, and for a while he drifted through a void. Then he felt something pulling at him again, and he was drawn to it irresistibly, like a puppet no a string.

Then the moment hung there for ages, like the eternal torment of the damned, and he was expelled into what looked suspiciously like the inside of an oven.