Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, and no profit is made from these stories. (But I do have fun writing them: )
Lennie stared through the haze, trying to make sense of where he was. It dissipated, like the condensation that covered so many Manhattan mornings in early spring. Or the street fog through which he'd caught his first case with Logan. Now there was nothing but pure white light, and it all came rushing back.
He had been diagnosed with cancer not more than six weeks after he joined the investigative branch of the DA's office. It didn't come as much of a surprise; he'd always known that it could be his fate. The disease had claimed both his parents. Still, the irony was such that he couldn't help but laugh when he received the news.
Must be some kind of divine intervention by my ex-wives.
Then came the surgeries. The chemotherapy. The final, extended hospital stay. And now, the feeling of complete freedom. He no longer felt the pain of his illness, no longer carried the hurts and mistakes that had scarred his life as a mortal. He was weightless.
Faces began to appear in the light. All were people Lennie knew; family, friends, old police colleagues. All were long dead. Finally, the realization came upon him.
I'm dead too. And if this is Heaven, St. Peter forgot to check my priors.
He scanned the crowd, looking for one person in particular. At last, he found her. She was as he had rarely seen her in life; there was a big smile on her beautiful face, and outstretched arms that beckoned him to come forward.
"Cathy, sweetheart, is it really you?" he said.
"Yes, Dad," she replied. "Welcome home."
finis