This story has been heavily edited- if you've been reading it since I first published it, I'd recommend rereading it so it makes sense. On that note, if you have stayed with this story for so long, thank you, and I hope it was worth the wait for it to be complete. Newcomers, please enjoy!

J'espère qu'au ciel

Des diables malins coupent au anges leurs ailes

Pour que tu retombes du ciel

Dans mes bras ouverts

Cadeau providentiel

"So what's this about?" Alfred asked as Francis let him into his house looking around for anything that might be a clue as to why he'd been invited over.

The Frenchman gave him a secretive smile, but his excitement was tangible. "I have something to show you," he said.

The spacious hallway was meticulously kept, the sort of room that silently threatened you into automatically pressing off your shoes at the heel with your toes and then feel embarrassed over the state of your socks.

Alfred swept his shoes into a corner with the side of his foot and padded after Francis, the latter hurrying through the doorway to his kitchen. As soon as he did so, Alfred built up a bit of speed and then skidded across the polished wooden floor after him, past a creamy-white sculpture of a naked angel with her arms out stretched.

"Where are we going, dude? I just took off my shoes," he complained as he hit the tiles of the kitchen and followed Francis through the maze of shining counter tops and kitchen utensils to the back door.

"I didn't ask you too," Francis pointed out dismissively. "And it's only a metre's walk."

The sky was a uniform grey. The clouds wasn't so threatening rain, as lazily comment on the fact it was going to happen at some point, but they weren't going to hurry it. Alfred shivered slightly in the cold air and tried to dismiss the feeling that something was wrong, watching Francis move to a second door at the side of the house. His companion pulled the door open, revealing a set of stone steps that lead down into darkness.

"Dude, if this is another one of your creepy techniques…" Alfred trailed off, looking cautiously between Francis and the cellar steps.

Francis laughed easily, shaking his head. "I promise it is not. After you," he said with a sweeping gesture. Obligingly, Alfred started down the cold steps, hands groping for a nonexistent light switch for the first few steps. He gave it up, one hand going to the wooden hand-rail and eyes trying to adjust to the darkness.

He heard Francis follow behind him and kept walking down into the darkness, a shudder running through his leg and almost tripping him up when the ground levelled out. Waiting for his host, Alfred kept one hand against the wall instinctively as he tried to see into the blackness. He could hear something moving.

Somewhere behind him, a light flicked on and Alfred blinked as his eyes readjusted to take in the room. Francis' triumphant French- et voila- met his ears just as he gasped.

The room it's self was as expensively gorgeous as the rest of Francis' house. He'd inherited money from somewhere, and his family was wealthy in any case. His basement was no exception, the carpet rich once you left the steps, the walls lavish with pretty things, and the room well lit, if lacking in natural light. But the value of the room disintegrated, the world paled, in the wake of its centrepiece.

An angel was the simplest description. The wings, they were the first part you saw, they drew the eyes like a magnet. Fluid and delicate, balanced with an air of extreme power and fluidity, a stunning mix of every colour, pale and dancing, blended into white. They looked soft and enticing, begging to be touched, and faded seamlessly into flawless skin at the shoulders of the young man in the cage, who was just a beautiful as his wings. Pale skin that was without imperfection, elegant arms that led to elegant hands that were loosely interlocked by his ankles to keep his knees against in his chest. The soles of his feet looked as if they'd never met the hardness of the earth, not ever known a day's work of walking. The angel's hair was golden and too short enough to meet his chin but long enough to look just cover the upper part of his eyes.

That was the only part of him that Alfred thought, in the distant part of his mind that was still thinking and not overcome with wonder, was not fitting the conventional image of angels. The angel's eyes did not belie the rest of his beauty; rather, they were an entrancing combination of greens, swirling in a mix that was almost hypnotic. But angel's eyes should be calm, wise and loving. These eyes were furious, over spilling with anger. Fear was there too, almost hidden beneath layers of rage, freezing Alfred's heart and making it like stone.

The angel was gagged by piece of tape, wings scrunched up behind him, bent feathers sticking through the metal bars at his back. The intricate metal cage hung near the back of the room, in the middle of the ceiling, suspended by a thick golden chain pretending to be a rope. It was a fancy piece of craftsmanship, rather exquisite, and the beauty of it sent a spasm of hollowness into Alfred's core, and chilling him.

His mouth remained open, eyes wide as Francis prowled up next to him.

"Fascinating, isn't he," Francis commented, watching his stunned reaction with satisfaction.

Alfred nodded in mute agreement, eyes fixed on the beautiful creature in the cage, well aware that the forest-green eyes were watching him too.

"I had to tape his mouth," Francis said, sounding disappointed. "He was making such a fuss."

Alfred registered for the first time the extent to the creature's imprisonment. Aside from the tape and cage, his ankles and wrists were chained so they couldn't move further than a few centimetres in any direction. The only limbs not hampered were the wings, but the cage was too small to allow them to stretch out, keeping them bunched uncomfortably behind their owner.

Francis followed Alfred's gaze to the creature's captured hands and under their twin gazes one hand fisted and turned towards them. The angels' middle finger came up slowly and deliberately. When Alfred glanced back up to the creatures face, even without being able to see his mouth Alfred could tell the creature was smirking.

Letting out an amused huff, Francis shook his head. "Far more pleasant company silenced even so, I'm sure you'll understand."

Still speechless, Alfred only nodded, bewitched by the unspeakable sadness that came as a combination between the anger and fright in the angel's eyes.

"Do you want something to eat?" Francis said conversationally, pleased with Alfred's awed reaction. "I have drinks and things upstairs…?" he offered, as if there wasn't another in the rom.

The normality of the offer coaxed back Alfred's tongue. "That sounds good," he agreed, tearing his eyes from the imprisoned angel.

Francis led him back up the stairs but Alfred's mind stayed in the basement, watching the young man with stupefied absorption.

"Where the heck did you get him from?"

"Ask me no questions, Alfred, I'll tell you no lies."

After they'd eaten, Alfred asked to see the angel again. Francis had told him that there were things he needed to be doing, but gave the American an indulgent smile and said he could go down alone, if he wished.

The second trip down the steps was no easier, possibly it was worse. A mixture of excitement and dread resided in the place where his confused curiosity had been before, making him feel almost ill.

He unconsciously dismissed the feeling as he reached the basement, turning to the wall and groping for the light. The room became illuminated and Alfred looked in the direction of the cage. As if he had been expecting Alfred's return, the angel's eyes unerringly met his, expression still as smooth, fierce and beautiful as before.

"Hi," Alfred said softly, moving forward cautiously. He was met with a dark glare before the creature pointedly looked away. Frowning, Alfred walked a bit closer. "I'm Alfred Jones."

"You okay?" he asked, for lack of anything else to say. The angel's eyes snapped back to his and a sharp motion sent all the chains clanging, the sound loud and unsettling in the otherwise silent room.

"Huh. I guess you have a point," Alfred said weakly. "Sorry."

Not acknowledging the apology, the skin of the angel's face around the tape moved furiously, either trying to speak despite the obstacle or attempting to remove it.

"Do you want me to get it off?" Alfred asked and when the angel froze he smiled, sensing an opportunity.

He reached the cage and lifted one hand to rest against the bars. The angel eyed him apprehensively, slowly lowering his face down to be level with the hand. Alfred poked his thumb and forefinger between the bars, a few centimetre's apart; all he was able to.

"Just try and catch the tape between my nails," he suggested in what he hoped was a friendly voice. "And I'll hold onto it."

Expression promising retribution if anything happened that the angel did not like, he slowly moved forward to Alfred's finger tips. The angel's skin touched Alfred's, and felt exactly as he'd imagined. The yielding expanse of the angel's cheek met Alfred's fingertips and he instinctively moved them to stroke the soft skin. With an angered noise muffled by the tape, the angel sprung away, pressing itself against the other side of the cage, giving Alfred a disgusted look.

"Sorry!" Alfred said quickly, retracting his hand and cursing his slip. "I wasn't thinking!"

A muted snarl was the angel's response.

"I'm sorry," Alfred repeated, putting his fingers back through the bars. "I won't do it again, I'm really sorry."

The angel looked unconvinced, but reluctantly crept forward for a second time. This time Alfred kept completely still until he felt the material of the tape, pinching it between his nails. The angel moved back, wincing as the tape came away to reveal the angel's lips, reddened by the removal of the tape, tiny cuts splitting the skin.

The angel jerked away from Alfred, gasping as air once again was allowed to be sucked into his mouth, bringing his face down to his chained hands so he could use his fingers to delicately massage his sore cheeks and mouth.

"Better?" Alfred said with a smile.

"Yes," the angel replied shortly. The voice fitted the rest of him perfectly, smooth and charming.

"Do I get a thanks?"

"Not when it was your friend who's trapped me," the angel snapped voice icy and contemptuous.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't do anything," Alfred replied, apologetic and indignant at the same time. "All I've done-"

"Is come to watch me like an animal in a zoo," was the harsh interruption. The angel turned back to him, and something changed in the green eyes. As if a light had gone on. Alfred fought the urge to fidget as the angels gaze ran over him, simultaneously trying to squash his confusion.

The angel spoke again, voice more amiable, slightly ashamed. "That was uncalled for," he admitted quietly.

"A bit," Alfred agreed his relief evident.

Something had shifted in the angel's demeanour, his body language. He moved towards Alfred without his previous caution, forehead leaning against the metal bars near to where the man's fingers still lingered, heedless of his arms being pulled uncomfortably behind him.

"Thank you for taking off the tape," the angel said lowly, and Alfred leant forward slightly to listen.

"No problem," he replied "It's what heroes do."

The angel's lips curved up into a smile. "Naturally you're a hero."

"Of course!" Alfred agreed; glad to meet someone who shared this sentiment, sky blue eyes locking with the angel's.

"Does that make me the damsel?" the angel asked, and Alfred frowned slightly, though his pleased grin still lingered.

"Nah, you're a guy," he said with a shake of his head. "But you were still in distress, so it counts."

The angel nodded agreeably and his head moved towards Alfred's fingertips, subtly enough that Alfred didn't realise he was doing so till he felt the gentle pressure against his fingers.

He gave them a confused look, his gaze slipping down to meet the angel's eyes. They looked back at him, innocent but inviting. As he watched the angel tilted his head up, revealing the pale spread of his neck, to brush Alfred's fingertips with his lips.

"You don't think you could open the cage?" he asked softly, his breath playing against Alfred's fingers.

"I-"

"Please?" the angel pressed, tone sweet and pleading. All Alfred's awareness seemed focused on the proximity of the angel's mouth and hiss lingering fingers, and the feeling of the other teeth gently scraping against the sensitive flesh on the pads of his fingers.

Alfred's hand went to the cage lock, turning the key that had been left there. The angel let out a pleased sigh, closing his eyes briefly before looking at his chained feet.

"Liberate me?" he asked tantalisingly, honing on Alfred's love for heroics with infallible accuracy.

The same key fitted the locks around the angel's ankles. The angel anxiously pushed his wrists towards Alfred, desperation to be free making him squirm and rock the cage. His fingertips ghosted against the frame of Alfred's face and the man's eyes slipped briefly closed, opening again when the angel spoke.

"What's your name?" he asked, eyes locked on Alfred's hands as they freed his right hand.

"Alfred," Alfred replied with a smile, thrilled by the look the angel gave him when the green eyes flicked up from his left wrist.

"Alfred," the angel echoed, the name rolling delicately off his tongue and making Alfred shiver.

The final lock clicked open and the angel rubbed his free wrists tenderly, not looking at Alfred.

"My name's Arthur. You have my thanks."

Alfred didn't have chance to respond before there was an explosion of movement. The angel shot out of the cage, knocking Alfred to the ground but landing gracefully on his own feet. Arthur stretched out his arms, wings unfurling to reveal their true majesty, but the motion made Arthur wince and his legs buckle, sending him to the floor.

"Bugger it," the angel groaned, hands going to the beautiful feathers and cringing as he touched them. "Pins and needles, it would be wouldn't it."

Alfred looked at him blankly, twigging slowly to the fact he'd been duped, and got to his feet. "What?"

"Stay there!" Arthur said quickly, struggling back up right and then blanching, probably due to the stiffness in his limbs. "Don't move!"

"What are you doing?" Alfred asked blankly.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Arthur responded agitatedly, swaying on his feet. "I'm trying to escape from the bastard who locked me in a cage." He legs gave out again and he was only saved from hitting the floor because Alfred darted forward to catch him.

"Get off," the angel ordered. "Let go of me, now!"

"You'll fall over again if I do," Alfred pointed out reasonably, arm slipping down to hook itself beneath the angel's legs while the other awkwardly kept his body upright around his wings.

"Don't put me back in the cage, don't you dare!" Arthur hissed, twisting in Alfred's grip as he tried to free himself, the fear in his voice obvious.

"Calm down," Alfred said soothingly. "I won't, I promise I won't, I wouldn't," he said reassuringly, bringing the angel closer to him.

"I don't believe you," Arthur said, frantically struggling in Alfred's arms.

"You have to trust me, or you're not going to be able to get out," Alfred said coaxingly, trying to get the angel to relax. "I promise I won't put you in any cage, I'm going to help you get out. I'm a hero, remember, heroes keep their promises."

Arthur stopped twisting in his arms, through acceptance or lack of energy to fight, Alfred wasn't sure.

"Okay, cool. Just hang tight for a bit, okay?" Alfred said, crouching down to lower Arthur to the ground. The angel shoved himself backwards, away from Alfred, all lean legs and sweeping wings. Arranging himself into a defensive sort of crouch, Arthur levelled Alfred the sort of scrutiny that pinned butterflies to Styrofoam display boards.

"What do you want?"

"I don't want anything," Alfred said, backing up a little bit to give the angel more space, but sitting in front of the door so the angel couldn't bolt. He considered what he'd just said, then blurted out; "I want to get you out of Francis' house."

The angel almost imperceptibly flinched, but brushed it off with a flex of his wings.

"Why?"

Alfred felt his face morph into an expression of confusion. "Don't you want to get out?"

"Of course," the angel said, irate and passionate.

"Well, then it's okay to want to get you out, isn't it?"

"…Yes."

Alfred grinned. "Then we're good," he said, getting to his feet and offering his hand to Arthur. A part of his mind not happily swept up in heroics or miserably contemplative of the real situation wondered how on earth he was going to not explain this to the man upstairs.

The angel grudgingly took the extended hand, and then waited. After a few seconds Alfred understood. He didn't have the strength to get up. For a moment his mind froze, and then he gently pulled Arthur to his feet and back up into his arms, ignoring the angel's repeated protests.

Carefully keeping the angel from getting jolted, Alfred navigated his way up the stairs. Arthur was light, despite the fact that by all rights he should have been heavier than average because of his wings. Alfred was momentarily distracted by the soft feathers pressing against the bare skin of his neck, but contained his shiver and ignored them. It was impossible that the angel should have been this light, this skinny.

"Has Francis been feeding you at all?" he murmured to himself but the angel replied, voice soft and bitter.

"Only when he remembered. Not enough." A beat later and in a voice so soft it was almost non-existent; "I'm so tired."

Alfred's grip tightened minutely, protectively, and he delicately opened the door out of the basement without dropping the angel.

Both of them winced as they came in contact with the still chilling wind, and despite Arthur moving to try and put his bare feet on the ground, Alfred kept carrying him.

"You can't try to fly in this, can you?" Alfred guessed, looking up at the grey and windy sky. "Not when you're as weak as you are."

"I am not weak," the angel snapped, but he did not argue.

"You can come back to my house," Alfred suggested tentatively, aware that at any moment Francis might come and find him running off with his new pet.

"No, I will not go from one prison to another," Arthur protested, renewing his attempts to get out of Alfred's arms.

"I won't keep you prisoner," Alfred said hastily, faltering as he walked, uncertain on whether or not he should put Arthur down. "You can stay at my house until you're healthy enough to fly, and then you can go where ever you like, okay?"

Suspicion rolled of the angel in waves, but Alfred could sense his reluctant acceptance. Really, Arthur didn't have any other choice but to agree to help, even if he did not fully trust it. The thought made Alfred feel guilty, even as he tried to say the right thing.

"Fine," the angel said unwillingly and Alfred smiled, naively reassured.

Arthur's feet briefly met the jagged stones that made up Francis' drive, but the angel pulled himself into the back of the car, glaring at Alfred's attempts to help. Alfred paused, looking up at Francis' house. Should he tell Francis that he was leaving?

"Wait here, okay? I'll only be a minute," he said to Arthur, who was watching him guardedly.

Alfred went back up to the house. Rather than walking straight through the hallway, this time Alfred paused at the stairs, surveying the room. The stone angel he'd walked past earlier looked back, its expression in his mind's eye silently beseeching. All up the stairs, images of angels looked out of the walls. When Alfred had been here previously, the decoration hadn't seemed so… obtrusive. So gruesome. It was a hobby, of Francis', collecting angel's, one that he'd had as long as Alfred had known him. If took on a whole new, darker, meaning as the painting at the top of the stairs regarded him with emerald green eyes, contained in its canvas.

"I've got to go home," Alfred announced as he crashed into Francis' study in what he hoped was his usual manner, putting on his very best reluctant-but-cheerful-voice. "The lady opposite says the people on the floor above set fire to their apartment."

"What?" Francis said, startled, spinning away from his desk in his black leather chair.

"Yep. They broke the fire escape ladders as well. She said one's gone through my bedroom window. How cool is that?"

"What?"

Alfred wondered briefly, grin on his face, if Francis was surprised over what had happened or that it had been deemed cool.

"Yeah, I know. So I have to go home and sort it out because she says it's going to rain and all my comics are in my bedroom."

"How terrible for you."

"Knew you'd understand," Alfred beamed. "Thanks for the food."

"It's a long drive back," Francis pointed out, getting to his feet. "And it's late. Are you sure you don't want to stay the night and drive back tomorrow morning?"

Alfred looked at him. "Francis. Comic books. Also, my bed. Could you cope with your bed getting rained on?"

Francis laughed. "Sure, sure, just make sure you don't crash on your way home." He made to leave the room, presumably to wave him off, but Alfred waved a nervous hand about aimlessly.

"It's fine, I know how to get out."

"We'll have to rain check for another time," Francis said, waving his protest away. "If you don't mind making a return trip?"

Alfred crashed through Francis' friendly politeness obliviously, "Yep, sure, I'll call you about it after I've sorted out the fire escape thing." He quickly left the room, tension winning out as he tried not to full out run down the stairs.

"Bye," he called back over his shoulder, and then he fled back down the drive, gripped with the sudden realisation that Arthur might have gone.

The angel looked at him emotionlessly through the car window, curled up on the back seat and looking more than a little feline. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief as he slipped into the driver's seat.

"Well, I don't think that looked too suspicious," he said cheerfully.

The angel didn't say anything, but Alfred could almost hear his accented voice recounting his flailing run down the drive in the most sarcastic manner possible.

"We're good to go," he said with a reassuring grin, ignoring the look he got in return for his optimism. He backed the car out into the road and started away, watching Arthur turn to look out the back window in his rear-view mirror. The angel's expression momentarily softened into pure relief, the thrill of escape unguarded on his face. Arthur turned to catch Alfred's gaze in the mirror and offered him an honest smile, unlike the seductive ones he'd given in the basement, or the icy glares he'd conveyed in every other moment. Alfred gave him an accomplished grin in response. The angel's smile faded, and Arthur twisted to lie down along the full length of the seats, his wings encasing him in a feathery cocoon.

Alfred sighed, and looked away.