Disclaimer: All the characters you recognize from the Stephanie Plum books belong to Janet Evanovich.

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For my angelwing - my sister
The lioness that picks me up, brushes me off and keeps me going
on those day I struggle to do it on my own

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"Marissa, I did everything I could to modify my life and career for our family."

"I never asked you to do that, Hal."

"No, you didn't; but it went without saying for me to try everything. Please Marissa, don't do this."

"Listen, I see no sense in continuing this call. Just sign the paperwork and everything will be fine."

"No," Hal took a deep shuddering breath and squeezed his eyes shut against the unwelcomed tears. "Marissa, please, don't. I left the service for you. Ranger is satisfied with my work, I have a safe job here. There are nice and secure neighborhoods in Trenton, good schools. You and Jerry could be happy here. Please, give us a chance."

"Hal, when will you finally get it? There. Is. No. Us. That's long over! Go, find yourself someone new – Jerry and I don't need or want you in our lives."

Hal closed his eyes while he listened to the song on the radio. That talk with his wife had been seven weeks and four days ago. He remembered every single painful day since then. Four weeks later he got a letter from her attorney reminding him to sign the divorce papers otherwise they would obtain an order of mandamus. He had called his dad with the papers in his hands and tears streaming down his face. All he got from his dad was a speech. 'I told you that bitch is good for nothing. Everybody knows she's fucking the whole town. You are the only one dumb enough not to realize that, so don't come to me now crying like a pussy. Who knows whether the brat is even yours?'

I know I'm not the smartest; but I'm not dumb, Hal thought angrily. He knew Marissa had never really loved him. He generously overlooked the fact she was meeting other men when he was deployed. Hal thought they could make it work. The life of a Navy wife was hard and he didn't have much to offer, personally or financially. He knew that. He was just happy he found somebody at all and was willing to do anything for her and their marriage.

To say Hal was shy was an understatement. His father, a Marine veteran, loathed women after his wife left him with five young boys at home. One day she was gone and never came back. Hal and his brothers were brought up with military drills and a no excuse for weakness attitude. They were never allowed to bring any girls back home with them and Marissa had been his first girlfriend. He was 21 and just back from a stint in Iraq. His comrades lugged him into one of those clubs and there she was, all polished and beautiful. The next time Hal was stateside, he found Marissa pregnant and they quickly married. He never doubted it was his baby. Now, seven years later, Hal thought of the ruin that was his marriage. He gave Marissa everything he could. When she started to talk about divorce, he left the service and got his job at Rangeman. He never gave up hope, ignored every low blow from her while his brothers and father found every opportunity to scoff at him.

"Hey Jerry, my man, this is daddy. How are you?" Ten days ago he'd called his son when he knew Marissa wouldn't be at home.

"I'm fine daddy. When are you coming to visit?"

"Soon, Jerry, I promise. We have to write your list of wishes for Santa, remember? Are you already excited about Christmas?"

"Yeah daddy, very much. We don't have to make my wish list, though, because Paul made it with me."

"Whose Paul, Jerry? Do you have a new friend?"

"Nooooo," his little son laughed. "Paul is mommy's new boyfriend. He's moved in with us. He's so cool, daddy. He just works half a day and is home with me every afternoon. He even took me to the ice rink and to the go-kart track and to see Santa's elves in the mall," Jerry's voice vibrated with joy.

That call was ten days ago. Two days later Hal had another letter from Marissa's attorney in his mailbox prohibiting him to contact Jerry. The letter stated he wasn't Jerry's biological father and should he insist, they would do a paternity test to prove the fact.

Hal looked down at the paperwork in his hand. Jerry was his everything. He was the reason Hal overlooked Marissa's infidelity, the other marital lapses through the years and mostly why he kept fighting for their marriage. Now he had lost him. Hal didn't resent Jerry's rapture over Marissa's new boyfriend. Paul was everything he, Hal, was not – most of all he was there for Jerry. Hal realized, if he indeed wasn't Jerry's biological father, he had no paternal rights. He would never get to see his son again. Marissa would make sure of that.

Hal looked up from the letter and through the front windshield. It was dark outside, nearing midnight, and thick snowflakes were silently gliding through the frosty night air covering everything with a lush white duvet. The radio was playing Nickelback's Lullaby and Hal powered the speakers up; but the words never reached his heart. Ten days ago his heart broke and now with that letter firmly grasped in his hands, the last remaining will to fight left his body. He had tried to go on with his life. Hal took the jokes from the guys with his usual smile, forced himself to breathe in and out the whole day, even brought in more criminals back into the system than anybody else at Rangeman; but nothing helped. He felt dead. Looking through the windshield, Hal tried to detect the Burlington Bristol Bridge in the heavy snowfall. This was not about wishing to die. This was about finally completing what started years ago and was long past-due.

"How are you my friend? Better now?"

Hal blinked and looked up into the face of an ancient gnarly man, clad only in an old-fashioned nightgown and feet bare, standing bent over him. He was lying outside his car in the snow and felt like a truck had hit him.

"Who are you," Hal asked confused.

"Oh, how disrespectful of me," the old man seemed flustered. "Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Harvey," he offered Hal is hand.

"Harvey," Hal pulled himself up and shook the offered hand as a major headache hit him. "Do I know you?" He scrunched his forehead in pain.

"Oh, I seriously doubt that Hal. I died two hundred years ago. I'm an angel, second class," Harvey nodded fervently.

Hal narrowed his eyes at Harvey and tried to clear his mind. God, his head was hurting.

"Harvey, I don't want to be impolite or so; but," Hal groaned with his right hand pressed against his forehead, "you sure you are OK? Because there are no angels, Harvey."

"Sure there are; but of course they are invisible," Harvey stated seriously. "Besides I'm no real angel, yet. I'm just an angel second class." Harvey bent down so he was close to Hal's ear. "I still have to earn my wings, you know."

"Sure," Hal nodded cautiously, "that makes sense."

"You don't believe me," Harvey sadly shook his head.

"How do you know that? Can you read minds, too?" A bout of nausea was hitting Hal hard and he wished for an ambulance coming around the corner to pick up the old man so he could finish why he came here in the first place.

"Of course I can," Harvey answered indignant. "All angels can read minds; even those second class."

"Of course, how could I forget," Hal put his head in his hands and moaned. God, what had happened to him that he suddenly felt so awful? Meanwhile he was covered with a good amount of snow and his ass was freezing on the ground. "Tell me Harvey," he needed to get the disturbed man out of the cold, "when angels are invisible, how come I can see you?"

"That's because you are dead, Hal. You jumped from that bridge over there. Did you forget that? It was a beautiful jump by the way," Harvey nodded approving. "Nothing dramatic, no last minute change of mind, you just fell like a stone."

Hal lifted his head and stared at the old man in front of him. He was … dead?

"I'm dead?" Hal whispered, trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was actually sitting outside his car in the snow while a strange man in a nightgown with bare feet told him about his demise.

"Well," Harvey moved his hands appeasing, "not really. You have to know, Hal, they don't really want you up there," he motioned skyward.

Great, even in heaven I'm not welcome, Hal thought while he scrambled to his feet and brushed the snow from his hair and clothes.

"Oh, don't say that, Hal. There are so many people who love you, who depend on you here on Earth. With you gone, their lives would forever change – and not for the better."

Hal snorted. "Sure, Harvey. They'd miss me like you miss a fat zit on your nose. Come on, old man, I'll get you somewhere warm where you will be taken care of for the night."

"Oh no, Hal. You can't take care of me. I am here to take care of you. They sent me down here to make you see how precious your life is despite the current struggle you are going through."

Hal clenched his teeth not to lash out at the small crookbacked man in front of him. "Harvey, listen. I'm really not feeling well at the moment and you are standing here bare-foot in this fucking freezing cold wearing only a nightgown. Please," Hal plead, "let me get you out of the snow somewhere warm."

Harvey inclined his head and scrutinized Hal for a moment. "I won't give up on you, Hal. They said when I get you to realize what a treasure your life is, I will get my wings and become an angel first class. I've been waiting for that about two hundred years now."

Hal didn't know what to say to that so he shook his head in disbelief and got back into his SUV, opening the shotgun door for his unwelcomed guest.

"What now?" Harvey asked, his fingers reverential caressing the interior. "This is amazing," he murmured in awe. "The last time I was on Earth was in 1930. Those automobiles looked different back then."

Hal closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath. "Now, I'll get you to the nearest hospital."

"Oh, that's a great idea. Let's go to Philadelphia," Harvey jumped in and the next moment the two men stood in a waiting room of an unknown hospital. The room was black with people, people in black uniforms with the Rangeman logo embroidered on them.

"What the fuck," Hal stumbled backwards in shock. "How did you do that? Where are we? What are my colleagues doing here? Hey Tank, what's going on," Hal jumped out of the way as Rangeman's second in command rushed past him with a grim face.

"They can't hear you, Hal," Harvey watched him. "Remember, you are dead. We are in the Pennsylvania Hospital in Philadelphia where the medevac brought you. At the moment, your colleagues are waiting on a word from your company's medic who's in the operating room with you. There are more bones broken in your body than not and the doctors are fighting for your life."

"They can stop. I'm not interested in living anymore."

"Are you sure, Hal? Look over there where your partner is sitting hunched down. What's his name?"

"Vince."

"Let's see what Vince thinks about the situation," the old angel grabbed Hal's arm with surprising strength and towed him over to where Vince was sitting flanked by Ram and Cal.

"Man, what happened isn't your liability," Ram talked at Vince while his hand squeezed Vince's shoulder. "Hal made the decision and there's nothing you could have done to avoid it."

"See," Vince agitated jumped out of his seat, "and that's were you are wrong. He was my partner, my fucking partner. It was my duty to have his back and I failed him. I should have known something was wrong. I should have listened harder when he talked; but I was too self-centered, too busy with pulling jokes at his cost to see what was going on with him. I didn't have his back when he needed me. I am responsible for this."

"Vince, sit down!" Tank bellowed and then squatted in front of Vince. "Listen, we all failed Hal one way or another; but what happened happened. There's nothing we can do to change that. Our responsibility is now to learn from our faults and make it better in the future, are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Vince murmured miserable.

"That's stupid. Vince had nothing to do with my decision, he couldn't have done anything," Hal frowned.

"Well, that's what you say; but he believes something different and you won't be able to rectify his belief since you insist on dying," Harvey watched Hal out of the corner of his eyes. "Let's visit another place."

"Where are we?" Hal asked a second later as they stood in a dark corner of a shabby pub. Curiously he looked around until he found a well-known face sitting at the bar, twisting a whiskey tumbler in his hand.

"Another one, Frank," the man called at the bartender.

"You had enough Vince," Frank answered as he stood in front of the drunken man on the other side of the counter.

"It's my decision when I have enough," growled Vince.

"No, Vince. It's mine. I don't want to have another discussion with Ranger or Tank. I already called your friends to pick you up."

At that moment the doors to the pup opened and Cal and Ram stepped in, scanning the room.

"Hey man, come on, we'll get you back to Rangeman," Cal tried to help Vince down from the bar stool.

"Let go of me, dumbass. I stay," Vince jerked out of Cal's grip and in his drunken state stumbled backwards, right into Ram's waiting body.

"No, you've had enough," Ram growled from behind Vince. "It's been three years since Hal died. You have to fucking stop this self-destruction, man."

The situation vanished and left Hal and Harvey standing alone in an empty and dark pub.

"What's wrong with Vince? Why has he become such a drunk?" Hal turned to Harvey.

"Because he never stopped believing that it was his fault that you successfully committed suicide. He never stopped thinking that he could had turned the tables by just paying closer attention. Let's go to another place at another time."

Their surroundings morphed into a beautiful summer day. They stood in a cemetery; the sun was shining warmly, the air filled with twittering and the smell of flowers. It was peaceful. A few yards away a woman sat with her back to them in front of a gravestone. Her curly brown hair was shining in the sun, moved by the soft wind and her shoulders twitched like she was crying.

"Hey Hal, I'm back," Steph let her fingers glide over the embossment in the gravestone. "I can't believe it's been more than five years since you decided to leave us." Steph wiped the tears away from her face. For a moment the fingers of her right hand lingered over the protruding scar running from her hairline down her face and neck. "You know, the guys are leaning on me to finally get the plastic surgery done; but I don't want to. Each time I look into the mirror and see my deformed face it reminds me of you and how short-lived life can be and that there are more important things to it than a scar or too much body fat. By the way, the boys all say Hi to you. Ram and Cal wanted to come, too; but Ranger gave them a last minute assignment so they had to rush off to save the world. My heroes," Steph smiled, sniffed and stroked over the perfectly cut grass she was sitting one. "I was so stupid back then, Hal; running after Ranger like a lovesick puppy. I wish you and me we had known each other better. Perhaps we could have helped each other with our problems. Now you are gone and every year I hope I'll miss you less; but the place in my heart where you have been stays empty." A single tear run down Steph's face, along the scar. "I hope you are happy where you are Hal, I sincerely hope that. I'm sure you are up there in heaven running after beautiful angels," Steph chuckled. "Just know that I'm trying my best to be happy down here, too. As you can see I have gained another few pounds since last year; but I don't care. Not anymore. Life is about more than the current beauty ideal. Oh, and before I forget, Rex, the third died a few weeks ago. When I get back to Trenton I will get myself a new furry friend. Would it be OK with you if I name him Hal? I'd like to have a part of you with me every day."

Hal watched Steph sitting in front of his grave, mourning him and the lump in his throat seemed to suffocate him. He had always liked her, even loved her; but she was the boss' woman, untouchable for the rest of them. Ranger had made that bloody clear. Now he regretted to never have asked her out for a coffee or a beer. Perhaps they could in fact have become friends, perhaps even more. Hal had all but forgotten Harvey who watched his ward sadly. He was suffering for Hal. Such a young man, so devastated. While Hal and Harvey were lost in their thoughts, Steph finished up her visit and made to leave. When she painful scrambled back onto her feet, Hals was shocked to see that the once so tiny woman had become voluptuous; her breast and hips curvy, her middle filled. She had a very distinct limp, immediately relieving the weight from her left leg, and the long scar was disfiguring the once so beautiful face. What the hell had happened to her? Had a FTE gotten the better of her? From what Hal saw she couldn't work as a BEA anymore. The questions were racing through his mind; but then Steph looked up and Hal saw her bright, electric blue eyes and every question, every other feature on her vanished. She still was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He wanted to reach out for her, to grab her and hold her in his arms; but his hand moved right through her solid body and Hal remembered that he was dead. He had gambled away his chance for at least a last talk.

"Come Hal, there's a last place I want to take you," Harvey quietly appeared next to him.

They stood at a corner he recognized. They were in Portland, Maine, and the corner wasn't far from the house Marissa, Jerry and he had lived in before he moved to Trenton.

"What are we doing here, Harvey?" Hal asked nervously. "Is something wrong with Jerry?"

"Jerry isn't Jerry anymore, Hal. You died ten years ago when Jerry was six. After that your wife married four times again, each marriage brought a child with it. Jerry had no psychological parent, no guide or role model; his dad had committed suicide. He thought it was because of him, that you didn't love him enough, didn't want him anymore. When Jerry was twelve he became part of a gang, the Bloodhounds. His new name is Knife, you surely can imagine why."

At that moment a gang of youths came around the corner, clad in all black apart from their bloodred bandanas. Hal had no trouble recognizing his son. Jerry was tall, taller than the rest and build like a brick house; but you could tell that there was no ounce fat on him. His swagger was self-assured with an undercurrent of menace; but what threw Hal out of the loop were Jerry's eyes. They were cold and unsympathetic. They were dead.

The sound of screeching wheels jerked Hal out of his stupor. An old Ford Mustang careened down the street and fishtailed to a stop no ten yards away from the Bloodhounds. The windows were down and before anyone could react, pump guns appeared and shots were fired. Hal helplessly had to watch his beloved son being mowed down by a rivaling gang. Screaming he ran over to Jerry and fell on his knees, holding the lifeless bodies of his son in his arms while the Mustang was racing back down the street.

Hal had no feeling for how much time had passed; but he was back in the snow next to his car not far from the Burlington Bristol Bridge. He laid on his side in a fetal position, sobbing, when he became aware that they were no longer in Portland.

"You know, this is really amazing," Hal turned to see Harvey sitting in the driver seat, playing with the buttons, controllers and other gadgets in the SUV.

"Don't. Touch. Anything." He growled at the angel. "You'll manage to blow us both up."

"Doesn't matter," Harvey happily replied. "We are already dead, you remember?"

Hal rolled onto his back, filled both hands with snow and rubbed his face with it. Nothing. No cold, no burning of freezing skin. Nothing. Squeezing his eyes shut against the urge to cry again he took several deep breaths before he looked at Harvey who magically was sitting in the snow next to him.

"I don't want to die, Harvey. Earn your wings and help me to get back, please."

"There's nothing I can do for you, Hal, I'm sorry. This last step you have to go all alone."

"But how?"

"Fight Hal! Fight for your friends, for your partner. Fight for that beautiful woman at the cemetery, for your son who needs you whether you are his biological father or not. But most of all, Hal, fight for yourself. There is still so much for you to discover, so many people to help, so many wonderful moments to live through. Your life is way too precious to end it."

His head hurt like a bitch. No, forget about that, his whole body hurt like a bitch. Hal tried to clear his mind; but it was so foggy and all he felt was pain. He wanted to open his eyes to look for Harvey; but he couldn't do it. His lids seemed to be made of cement. It went on like that for what seemed like an eternity. He would wake up, unable to move, filled with unbearable pain; but not able to voice his agony. Yeah, and there were voices. They were fading in and out and sometimes it felt like someone touched him; stroke his face or held his hand. Finally, one day, the fog was gone and his eyes didn't seem to be glued shut anymore. Scraping together the remains of fight in him, he tried to open them. First they just fluttered; but finally they were open and screaming white light was blinding him. Blinking he tried to adjust his eyes against the painful brightness until a shadow appeared above him. A few more blinks and he recognized Vince's face.

"Hey man," Vince had a tear running down his face, "it's time you wake up. You slowly got us worried."

Hal wanted to say something; but there was a breathing tube stuck in his mouth and he heard the constant sound of a ventilator right next to the annoying beeping of a heart monitor. Cautiously he tried to move his head; but nothing happened.

"It's OK man," Vince put his hand on Hal's shoulder to get his attention. "Don't try to move. You are quite banged up and they had to put you into some real cool stretcher so you wouldn't jump up and beat it out of here once you are awake."

Hal blinked some more and suddenly became aware of a weight to his right and someone holding his hand. Moving his eyes to the right side he tried to get his partner to talk.

"It's Steph," Vince said softly. "She hasn't left your side once in the three weeks they've kept you in a coma. Tank had to pick up some clothes for her and we had to bring food here into the room cuz she wouldn't even leave you to eat.

A single tear run down Hal's face as he dug deep into his reserves and concentrated on his right hand. He could feel Steph's small fingers in his palm. Slowly he opened his hand and with some effort managed to entwine their fingers. He would make sure Steph would have the best friend in him she can wish for, helping her to see what a wonderful unique woman she was. He would fight for Jerry. As much as he doubted their sympathy before he was now sure that at least Vince, perhaps even Ram and Cal would be at his side, having his back. With them plus Steph, he felt able to tackle the problems and darkness ahead of him.

Life offered him a second chance and this time he wouldn't hold back, Hal thought while he lightly squeezed Steph's hand.