A/N: Hey, lovelies!

We finally made it to the last chapter! I'm rather happy with it, in all honesty. I'd also like to wish you all a happy Halloween!

Once again, I would like to thank Ask Aph Fruk (heyhellohowdy) for allowing me to write for this AU and for their lovely art, as well as all of the readers and reviewers. I hope that you all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

(the French in this chapter is basically Francis askibg Arthur if he is ok.)

-YY

Everything had been prepared in less than a week, as there was not much to prepare. After all, who would possibly come to a wedding where the groom was nonexistent to all but his fiancée? No, that would never do. In fact, the whole event was more of a symbolic affair, with no one to marry them and no one to bear witness.

They had chosen the thirty-first of October as their date; the original date of the wedding and the date of the funeral. It seemed appropriate to Francis to end the mourning and sadness on the anniversary of when it began, and Arthur had quickly agreed.

"Besides," he reasoned, "they say that that is the day where the realms of the living and the dead are most closely aligned. It would feel as though you were closer to me."

"Then it's decided," Francis said to him with a smile.

Faintly, Arthur smiled back. "I can hardly wait, love."

"Then," Francis said as his reflection stood up from his seat next to Arthur, "I bid you adieu until tomorrow night, lapin,"

"I will see you then," he agreed as the first light of morning sun entered the room. As if he were never there, Francis was gone.

As soon as he was, the smile quickly faded from Arthur's face as he laced his fingers together, brooding as he stared vacantly out the window, contemplating as he waited for the hour when the shops would be open.

~x~X~x~

The ceremony, as one would expect, was not only short but awkward; barely more than an exchange of vows. Neither could deny the fact that they enjoyed it, however, as the small setting in the familiar parlor only made the ordeal more intimate.

Upon the Frenchman's appearance, Arthur smiled slightly and stood, his hands shaking profusely.

"Are you alright, lapin?"

"Just nerves," the Englishman replied, a bit too quickly. Francis raised an eyebrow, but smiled as he brushed his thoughts aside.

"There is no need to be," he promised. "It's only you and I. It will be perfect."

"I do hope so," Arthur agreed, quaking slightly as he strode over to the mirror, taking his place.

Francis had been the one to begin. "Arthur, mon lapin, there is no other way to say it. I love you. More than anything else, I love you, and if nothing else, I want to see you happy. And if this is what it takes to see you smile, then it is something I would do a hundred times over. Je taime, mon lapin."

Smiling softly upon Francis finishing, Arthur started upon his half of the vows. "Francis…" he paused, taking a shaky breath. "I honestly don't know what there is to say… Just… thank you. You've always been here for me, and while the past few years have most certainly been rough, you've stayed here for me. I really appreciate it, and I love you. I love you so much."

Unsure of what to do, next, the pair awkwardly smiled at each other.

"Should we kiss?" Francis asked after a moment.

"I'm not sure how to…" Arthur admitted after a moment. "It'd be odd, don't you think?"

"Only if you make it odd, lapin~"

"Oh, shut it…" closing his eyes, he hesitantly leaned forward, kissing the cold, smooth glass. "There. Happy?"

"Very," Francis purred, smiling slightly.

"Good." Slowly and still shaking, Arthur walked to the table next to the sofa, gingerly taking the glass of wine he had poured earlier for himself.

"Arthur, you're still shaking…"

"It's nothing," he insisted.

"You've been shaking all evening…"

"Don't worry about it."

"But amour…"

"A toast," the Englishman insisted, raising his glass above his head, the dark red liquid still shaking as much as his hand was. Hesitantly, he swallowed. "To… to the death of a bachelor." Francis watched as Arthur slowly brought the glass to his lips.

It barely made it halfway there.

Dropping the glass, he brought both his hands to his throat as he began to cough profusely, losing his balance as he hit the floor.

"Arthur!" Francis screamed, unable to run to his side. Horrified, he could do nothing more than watch as his husband writhed on the floor, seemingly choking.

"Que ce passe-t-il!? Est-ce que tu vas bien!?"

~x~X~x~

The evening of the wedding, he had sat in the armchair in front of the mirror, afraid to do much of anything. The pitcher of water that had been half full not a quarter hour before had become drained as his shaking hands brought the glass to his lips, finishing the last of the ice cold drink.

The empty wrappings from the arsenic lay on the coffee table—"For rats," he had told the apothecary. "I have quite the problem, and hounds are no good to me." Thus, he had been able to leave with enough of the poison to kill a man.

He knew for a fact that it was working. He had drained the pitcher twice, and had honestly spent more time retching in the loo than actually getting ready.

He hoped that Francis would understand. Everything was too much, and his heart too heavy to go on. To him, it was the one last solution. "Better than dying alone," he had reasoned to himself.

Heaving himself from the chair, he had hidden the wrappings from the drug beneath the carpet.

"Arthur?" Francis had asked upon seeing him kneeling on the ground. "What are you doing?"

"I dropped my lapel pin," he had said quickly, adjusting it as he stood to make his lie more believable.

~x~X~x~

The Frenchman could barely bring himself to look upon the corpse again. He knew that it was Arthur's intention to do this, and that made his death hurt that much more.

Sitting on his knees, he did nothing but sob. "How could he?" he asked to no one in particular. "He said that he'd move on… He promised that he would move on…" choking back another cry, he wiped his face. "How could he…"

With tears still streaming down his face, he rose to his feet, daring at last to gaze upon his dead husband's listless body. It was tragic to look upon; his unmoving form upon its side, even in death still appearing to be choking. On what, he did not know. Jade eyes, now forever hidden from the world. Messy blonde hair, never to be messed with again.

Arthur Kirkland, devoid of life, lying on the floor for none but Francis' eyes.

And out of the corner of his eye, he saw something stir. Tensing, he slowly looked up, and a pair of far too familiar emerald irises met his own indigo ones.

"Lapin…" he breathed, earning a nervous smile from the other.

With no regard for the fact that the apparition of Arthur was on the other side of the glass, he rushed at him, pleasantly surprised to find himself in his embrace. Casting a quick glance behind him, he saw the looking glass behind him.

He was out.

And above all, he was with Arthur.

Tears still falling from his face, but now out of joy, he rested his forehead against Arthur's. "I'm here. I'm here, my love," Arthur laughed softly.

"So you are," Francis said with a slight smile. "I can't believe you… what happened to your promise?"

"I didn't want to move on without you…"

"That's not as romantic as it sounds."

"I really can't... well, couldn't go on like that for any longer. I know what you said, Francis, but... I just... please accept this...," Arthur pleaded.

"It's already happened… I have to…" Francis sighed. "I can't believe that you did... that you did that." Pursing his lips, he looked down, emotions conflicting within him.

The Englishman hesitated. "But you're still happy to have your husband…?"

He wanted to be upset, and yet the simple pleasure of being with him again melted the anger to the point where it slipped throygh his fingertips. After contemplating, the Frenchman gave a soft chuckle, gently kissing Arthur.

"I have to admit that I am."

"Then kiss me again," Arthur requested with a slight smile.

Happily, the Francis obliged, their lips gently locking in a kiss. No longer was it chaste and nervous, but long and sweet and all that a true kiss should be as Francis's lips met Arthur's slightly chapped ones. Happily, the two of them melted into the bliss of the moment.

And once again, all was right in the world.