UNFINISHED BUSINESS
Chapter One
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from James Cameron's Titanic or Tim Burton's Beetlejuice.
A/N: I've always been intrigued by the afterlife in Tim Burton's Beetlejuice. I realize it seems very strange to apply it to Titanic – especially for a serious story – but this idea has been nagging at me for over a decade now. This is NOT a crossover with the Burton film in any way. I'm just using that caseworker system and building on it.
This chapter is primarily setup. I apologize if it is slow. It will pick up in subsequent installments…
oooooooo
Rose sat staring at her extremely long, coiling strip of white paper. It read the following number: 7, 567, 372, 998, 278, 554, 893, 489.
When she first pulled it from the dispenser she assumed there had been a malfunction. Too many numbers had printed, surely. This had to be a mistake. Alas, everyone in this waiting room had a similar number. There was a miserably long wait, the sort of wait that drove a person mad. Fortunately, she had her thoughts of occupy her.
While others looked blank, reading magazines or dozing off, Rose was thinking deeply. She was thinking about her life and about the afterlife that would soon begin. She'd lived a very long, eventful life and had no regrets. Seeing Titanic again had been the perfect closure.
So why was she here?
Why was she in limbo with those who had "unfinished business"…?
"2, 567, 345, 234 – Robbins." The receptionist barked.
Meanwhile, a dazed man with a grisly skull wound stood in the middle of the room, having just arrived. "Take a number and sit down, buddy. You're blocking the door." The receptionist ordered with tired impatience. She'd clearly had enough of her tedious and repetitive job.
Rose briefly glanced at the tired woman behind the desk. Her miserable disposition did nothing to ease the transition from life to death. Many new arrivals were confused, anxious, angry or in sheer denial. It was a transition some really struggled with and yet this woman lacked compassion entirely. It was hard for the kindhearted Rose to sit and watch for hours...
There was something unnatural about the woman's skin, but that wasn't why people stared. Most souls looked unnatural here. They stared because something separated this receptionist from them. Rose had been here just long enough to start wondering about that divide. Who were these workers? Were they real souls like the rest or just an illusion?
"My, my. You need a vacation, dear." An elderly woman was concerned.
The receptionist just snorted, "Not happening."
Rose was shaken from this memory by a gurgling, watery voice nearby: "It's very rude to stare!"
Her eyes shot over to a drowned man, wet and rotten. He was glaring angrily at a girl who was clearly distressed by the sight of him. "What? Think you're the only person who died tonight?" He snarled, clearly very offended.
Rose had learned right away not to stare at other souls and not to react to their often grisly appearances. Many in this waiting room had died recently and emotions ran very high. Moreover, it was clearly a faux pas to judge anyone by their physical appearance here as it could not be controlled and was quite personal.
Rose had quickly realized she appeared young again in limbo. Her hands and feet had given it away almost immediately. And her voice, of course.
There were no reflective surfaces here, but she had discreetly felt her face and hair. She could see red ringlets at the edges of her vision. She assumed she was one of the few who looked as they had in life, though assumptions were risky here.
"Excuse me. Where's the bathroom? I think something's wrong with me." A teenaged girl approached the reception desk, touching her face. She looked like a zombie now and was starting to figure it out. The panic was slowly building.
"There are no bathrooms anymore." The receptionist answered unkindly.
There wasn't much of anything anymore. Just a waiting room and whatever lay on the other side of it. Rose watched many pass through the mysterious door when their number was called and she wondered endlessly about what might be waiting for her there.
What sort of unfinished business did she have? Was she to be reunited with Jack? She'd always hoped the afterlife would reunite them! Now it finally seemed like a true possibility!
She glanced around the waiting room. There were no clocks of any kind… no reflective surfaces of any kind… Hmm… Vanity was clearly unacceptable here. Rose did her best not to touch her face or hair at all. She didn't want to provoke anyone.
"2, 567, 345, 253 – Ming."
The lady beside Rose had been shifting nervously for some time now. Finally, she turned to Rose and smiled, trying to hide her confused anxiety. "This is certainly a strange dream… I guess I've been thinking too much about death lately… Imagine if death was really like THIS?" And she forced out an awkward laugh.
The drowned man snorted.
Rose said nothing, knowing from experience it was pointless. Everyone accepted their circumstances in their own good time.
A headless woman leaned forward – "Could you please pass me another magazine?"
Rose passed a few magazines politely, trying very hard to act naturally. Yet it was difficult to find that balance between staring and avoiding eye contact. It was important to act completely natural and yet it was such a challenge.
"2, 567, 345, 254 – Martinez."
Martinez stepped forward, whispering to the receptionist sadly – "The last thing I remember was the plane diving…"
"Pass through, please." The receptionist sounded tired.
Rose bit her lip. The total lack of sympathy was really starting to irritate her.
Dozens more passed through.
A sweaty man in a jogging suit who had arrived before Rose woke from a nap and glanced up at the screen where the current number appeared. Realizing he was DAYS from his appointment, he grumbled, "They need more caseworkers."
"It's not like you don't have time, pal…" A Brooklyn accent mumbled.
"2, 567, 345, 286 – Chan."
Rose sometimes wished there was a clock. Other times she was thankful there wasn't one. She had no idea how long she had been waiting. Her mind kept playing over everything she hoped lay ahead…
Suddenly someone had had enough. Springing to his feet, a man started shouting, "I want to go outside now. I want to go OUTSIDE!"
But there was no outside. Nothing existed for them at the moment beyond the room. No one acknowledged the outburst and after a moment the man sat down again and fell back into silence and waiting.
"2, 567, 345, 292 – Lane."
The anxious woman beside Rose was wringing her hands. The man's sudden outburst had the wheels in her head turning again. She smiled to herself uneasily, "This is just foolish. Dreams are eventful. Who ever heard of a WAITING dream?
The jogger sighed loudly, "I've got to stop waiting in here with the newbies."
"Are you kidding?" Someone called over. "They're the only entertainment!"
Time dragged slowly and eventually a young man approached the reception desk. He was hesitant, looking uncertain.
"Excuse me…" He was extremely polite. "I'm really sorry to bother you. I realize you're overworked. I just have a few very quick questions. I've been waiting patiently-"
"Your caseworker will answer your questions." She didn't even look at him.
"That's just it. I don't understand this caseworker thing." He admitted quietly. "What's-"
The receptionist looked at him now, "Look, kid. This is purgatory. You've got unfinished business. Just sit down and wait for a caseworker to help you resolve it. Oracle is not in my job description…"
He looked crestfallen. "Thanks anyway." He turned away slowly.
Rose, unable to help herself, gave this girl a cold, hard stare. It was the look she generally reserved for unimaginable bastards.
Noticing, the receptionist snapped harshly, "Problem?"
"Who sucked the soul out of you?" Rose asked quietly.
The receptionist tiredly smirked, "Funny you should ask…"
oooooooo
Rose woke from a long, peaceful nap. She had been dreaming about dancing with Jack Dawson. REM sleep brought Jack to her often since seeing her drawing on television. Hopefully once she crossed over to the afterlife he'd be waiting there for her.
She wanted to see her husband, of course, but she'd been waiting to reconnect with Dawson for a very, very long time now. Did he know she'd kept her promise? She hoped he knew about all her adventures and her children and about dying warm in her bed. She'd definitely kept her end of the bargain. After so many decades she deeply longed to reconnect.
A girl with bright pink skin turned to Rose, noticing she was awake. "SO…" she said loudly. "How did you die?"
Rose was taken aback by this question. She had been waiting a long time now and she knew people didn't chat, especially about such personal things. This girl seemed socially awkward.
"UGH." The jogger was irritated. "SO rude."
"You don't have to answer that." The headless lady interjected.
"I don't really know…" Rose admitted. "Um… old age?"
"Lucky." The pink girl smirked. "Were you really old?"
"Extremely old, actually." Rose admitted. "I guess I am rather lucky."
"YA. Now wanna SHUT UP about it?" A young man with a thick pipe sticking through his stomach barked at her from across the room.
Rose winced and gave him an extremely apologetic expression.
It was best to stay silent in this room and yet this pink girl never seemed to take a hint.
"WELL…" The chatterbox shifted in her chair to get comfortable and start yammering. "MY death was rather unique. You see-"
The receptionist suddenly slammed a book down loudly on her desk. "NO more personal talk!" She snapped sternly.
The pink girl muttered something about 'boring' and then crossed her arms, looking away…
oooooooo
Rose finally passed through the doors. The suspense was unbearable. She had no idea what to expect, but she was certain it was going to be mind blowing. She'd waited so long for this moment!
UH…
She found herself in an administrative area. Some sort of office. The room was full of desks, office workers and an abundance of paper.
How anticlimactic. How utterly disheartening.
There were many desks here and each had a long line before it.
"More waiting. Wonderful." She muttered to herself, looking around.
Fortunately for Rose, her line was moving twice as fast as any other. The handsome administrative office she'd been assigned to was just plowing through paperwork like a machine. The other workers didn't seem half as effective as he was.
"We're luck to have this guy." The elderly man behind Rose smiled at her.
Rose studied the different people waiting in each line. There seemed no rhyme or reason to where you were assigned.
"Well, at least our feet can't hurt." A curly haired girl in the next line tried to be friendly. Rose just gave a smile, tired smile. Sure, the body didn't hurt anymore… but the soul still grew very tired…
Closer now, Rose studied the paper pusher's face. He looked exhausted and incredibly absent, yet his hands were quickly going through the motions with determination. While he was handsome, he was terribly disheveled. He made no conversation and was clearly rundown. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was a sweaty mess and his tie and shirt collar were very loose. He looked like he'd been to Hell and back again.
Nevertheless, he worked with quick and methodical efficiency…
Finally, Rose found herself sitting across from him. As he processed her papers he didn't even bother to look at her.
This immediately reminded her of the frazzled receptionist.
She decided to speak to him. "That receptionist does nothing to ease the transition. You think they'd find a more suitable greeter for the afterlife."
He ignored her comment completely. He seemed cold and disconnected.
Rose swallowed uncomfortably. These workers were apparently all exhausted and unfriendly. Were they real souls like herself… or were they just illusions conjured to drive the system?
Rose was tempted to ask the man directly if he was real. She'd always been one to speak her mind. Yet something warned her it was a very bad idea. Deep down she suspected these workers were real souls like herself… real, but somehow enslaved…
"What happens now?" She asked him finally.
"Hm?" His eyes glanced up, hands still working quickly. His eyes were tired, but serious and attractive.
"What happens now?" She repeated patiently. She didn't blame him for being absent and rundown if he was some kind of desk slave.
"You're on Vespasian's caseload." The man shuffled her papers. "I'll be handling your paperwork."
Vespasian? What an unusually Classical name. Literally of the Roman era.
"And this Vespasian will help me address my personal issues so that I can rest in peace?"
"Yes. Have him sign all these forms and return them to me promptly." Her officer wasn't even looking at her.
Rose was curious about his soulless way. He was a train wreck like the others, certainly… but he was clearly a survivor. There was nothing pathetic about this guy. He was a mess, but he was persevering. There was an underlying determination there that she appreciated.
"Third door on the left. Good day." He still didn't look at her.
"Good day." Rose nodded absently, taking leave.
"Miss!" He called after her sharply.
Whirling around abruptly, Rose felt a strange familiarity.
"Your papers." He held the papers out.
She stared at the man in confusion. The déjà vu was unmistakable.
"Have we done this before?" She asked him faintly.
He wasn't fazed by her question. In fact, he probably heard it all the time from confused newcomers. At any rate, he was distracted and overworked.
He glanced at her, absent and unfeeling, "I don't believe so."
She hesitated and then asked unexpectedly, "Do you ever leave your desk?"
He actually looked at her now. Their gazes locked for a moment. Finally – "Third door on the right, madam. Good day."
"I'm sorry." Rose frowned, knowing she'd overstepped. "Good day to you."
oooooooo
Rose came to the third door marked VESPASIAN.
She knocked… and when there was no answer… she slowly entered…
"Morning, Rose!" A friendly voice called. "Come in, come in. What would you like to drink? Hopefully pop coz I'm not a fan! We didn't have it in my day."
The friendliness was extremely refreshing after such a long frost.
Yet Rose was taken aback. He was dressed like a Roman legionnaire! He was literally wearing golden armor, a stately red cape and there was a large red plume flowing from his helmet.
He was blonde, blue eyed and appeared to be in his early 30s.
"UM…" She hesitated.
The young man sensed her apprehension and smiled encouragingly. "Don't be shy! Come in! Close the door and take a seat here."
"Vespasian?" Rose ventured as she sat down.
"Call me Pazy. I'll be counseling you." He was incredibly casual.
And then he realized Rose was confused by his armor and laughed. "People always react that way. I died 2000 years ago! People need to get over the whole Roman thing. If anything, it makes me incredibly qualified as a caseworker. It's RARE to find a caseworker who hasn't been dead at least a millennium. You need real experience! I've been at this a LONG time now, Rose."
"I'm sorry. I'm very confused. This is all new to me."
"No worries." He was friendly. "I'm sure that 14 year wait has left you pretty drained."
"14 years?" Rose gasped.
"There were a lot of souls ahead of you." He shrugged. "Pop?"
"No, thank you." Rose blinked, still clearly shocked.
"Ya…" Pazy tossed the unopened can in the trash. "It's good to stay away from this crap. Probably why you lived so long, eh?"
She didn't react, so he just continued – "Now, Rose… we've got A LOT of skeletons in your closet to work through. Mainly due to the fact you walked out on your first life."
Rose felt her face warm up immediately. This wasn't what she'd been hoping for at all. This was going to be extremely personal and embarrassing and this fellow hardly seemed professional.
He was flipping quickly through her file. "HMM… OK… a lot here…"
Rose watched him reading.
Finally, he looked up at her. "Wanna start with the mother issues?"
"Excuse me?"
He glanced up. "You had a messed up relationship with your mother. Subconsciously you never actually resolved any of it. You just ran away. You need to work through these 'mother issues' before your soul can finally rest in peace…"
Rose's face reddened and she tried to cover her embarrassment with an incredulous laugh. "This is ridiculous. I can't believe I'm being subjected to this nonsense… A Roman legionnaire scrutinizing my life…"
Pazy shrugged it off, clearly not bothered by her comment. "You've always had mixed feelings about abandoning your mother to destitution. You've always wrestled with some guilt over her fate. Your ex-fiancé awkwardly tried to do right by her financially when they parted company, but your death and her desperate situation pushed her over the edge and she was eventually institutionalized."
"We are NOT having this conversation." Rose was still trying to force an incredulous laugh. "You don't know the first thing about—"
Pazy spoke sympathetically, "I'm a caseworker, honey. This is my job. I don't take pleasure in making you upset or uncomfortable. Unfortunately, if you want to cross over to the afterlife, you need to address these issues. You can't bury them any longer."
There was a long, miserable pause before Rose started abruptly trying to defend herself…
"Her insistence on a life of luxury at my expense—" Rose started.
"Eh, eh, eh…" Pazy raised a hand. "I'm not trying to argue. Or pass judgment."
"She was forcing… I was suicidal…" Rose stammered.
"It's a skeleton in your closet. You still feel badly on some level about the whole mess."
"But—"
"Just remember: The only person you have to answer to is yourself. Once you've made peace with your past you'll be free."
Rose didn't know what to say. This was just miserable.
"OK. So here's how it works." Pazy stood up. "We're going to revisit some of your memories together and work through your feelings and come to terms with the whole thing bit by bit. It's going to take some time and effort, but we'll talk through it all. Once you have sincere closure on one issue, we'll move on to another issue."
Rose looked uncomfortable. This was all very private.
"I know it's not fun, but we've got to work through this stuff if you're ever to be at rest. And trust me; you WANT to be at rest."
"What is the after life like?" Rose frowned. "Heaven?"
"I have no idea." Pazy answered truthfully. "I've never been."
"Will I be reunited with lost loved ones?" Rose asked hopefully.
"Possibly. I know nothing of the other side. I've never been and I'll never get to go. Besides, they could be here working through their own issues." Pazy shrugged nonchalantly.
"Can you check for me please? Is there a way?"
"What do I look like, sweety? A paper pusher? I don't have these kind of answers. I play head doctor 24-7. I'm sorry."
"Could the admin-"
"ER, I shouldn't have said anything." Pazy rolled his eyes. "NO. The administrative officers are not allowed to give out that kind of information. They don't have time to search through those endless, endless records anyway. This isn't magic land."
Rose immediately thought of her tired admin officer. Did he have access to that kind of information? Could she safely ask him to help her?
And then she frowned, "But I just want to know about my…"
"Former lovers. I know, I know. You've got unfinished business." Pazy smiled kindly. "I get it… You'll get your answers someday, I'm sure. For now just focus on crossing over. You're extremely lucky to be able to."
He kept making these little comments. She finally could no longer hold back her curiosity – "Are you a soul like me?"
"Exactly like you. Only I've been dead centuries longer."
"Why don't you cross over?"
He shrugged, "I can't."
"Why not?"
Pazy hesitated… and then he seemed to choose his words very carefully…
He decided on: "I'm a caseworker."
"But why? How-"
"Rose, honey – Rule #1 around here… Don't ask personal questions like that. Never ask about a person's death or their unfinished business or their physical appearance or any of that jazz. It's bad form and considered extremely rude."
"But how will I ever understand?" Rose frowned.
"You don't NEED to understand. Your task is to focus on YOURSELF and crossing over. Death is personal. You aren't to waste time analyzing the limbo you find yourself in… or bother other people about THEIR personal journey. OK? You wouldn't like someone prying into your skeletons! This is all private and individual. People are incredibly sensitive here."
Rose looked down at her feet.
"Did I emphasize enough words? Is there some comprehension here?"
Rose sighed. "I understand that I'm not to understand."
"You're cute. I liked that." Pazy smiled.
"Are you so sensitive because you're being punished? Is this your hell?"
"This is purgatory. A place of transition for most souls. Now stop asking personal questions! It's none of your business why I'm a caseworker."
"I'm sorry." Rose frowned.
"It's ok. You're new and confused and don't know any better. There are tons of chatterboxes who DO know better though. I don't want you to become like that. It's tactless and insensitive."
She nodded sadly.
"OH – and don't chat about your own circumstances too freely."
"Not everyone has been as fortunate as me." She nodded again.
"Smart girl." Pazy gave her a quick wink.
"OK, now…" He strode forward briskly. "I think we've got time to do one quick memory. An introductory sort of thing just to give you a sense of the kind of work we'll be doing together… It's a good chance for me to go over all the rules with you. Coz the rules are important!"
"Oh, well, I—" Rose replied uncertainly.
Pazy interrupted, "Don't touch anything and don't leave my side."
His office transitioned into a familiar scene. Rose looked around, recognizing a long forgotten bedroom. She was still sitting, but the chair had transitioned with the scene. It blended in perfectly now.
Voices came from the other room and Pazy glanced around the corner. Understanding what he saw, he returned to Rose.
He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Now – a few super quick, but extremely important rules before we listen to this little conversation… It's an insignificant conversation so you can just get a feel for memory hopping…"
Pazy then bluntly stated the rules, as though memorized:
"(1) Do NOT stray from the scene. It's dangerous for you to go too far from where we are to be. (2) Keep your distance and always whisper. The living generally won't hear or see the dead, but there are some rare exceptions and we need to play it safe and not draw attention to ourselves. It's important they do not see you. (3) Don't TOUCH anything. Especially not people!"
Rose looked at the chair she was sitting in.
"Well…" Pazy frowned. "You can sit on things. I often do. Just be DAMN careful nobody sits down on top of you. The consequences are disastrous. We are not to touch the living under any circumstances. OK?"
"How are they alive if this is a memory?" Rose asked.
"Whisper." Pazy reminded her lightly. And then he answered, "This is more like time travel, honey. That's why it's crucial you aren't seen and that you don't disturb anything. Just hang back and be quiet. Good rule overall."
The voices in the other room grew louder. Clearly people were about to enter this room.
Rose stood up in anticipation.
Pazy winked at her and took her hand, pulling her into the corner out of the way of the coming action. "Just stay still and silent and watch the scene. No need to be anxious." He whispered in her ear, barely audible.
oooooooo
Within a few short minutes Rose found herself in Pazy's office again. Everything had transitioned so suddenly she felt physically ill.
"UGH…" She clutched herself. She wanted to vomit.
"Sorry." Pazy was apologetic. "I'll try to transition slower. Some people are sensitive to it. Hopefully you'll get used to it."
Rose found her way into the chair, looking sickly.
"That ex-fiancé is a piece of work, eh? YIKES." Pazy made a face. "Talk about bad programming. I don't even wanna KNOW what that childhood was like."
Rose frowned, "He seemed tolerable in the very beginning. Rich, handsome… mother and I were in trouble…"
Pazy shook his head. "He had potential. Actually connecting with another person would have made all the difference, I'm guessing. He was so detached."
"He was prejudice, controlling and too angry inside." Rose said coldly. "He was misanthropic."
"You're lucky we all speak the same language in death." Pazy smirked. "Coz that's an unnecessarily fancy way of putting it. Dude was a HATER. That's what you mean."
"His presence was poisoning me." Rose frowned.
"There was a darkness there, that's for sure." Pazy whistled. "Someone that rich and handsome not married by 30 in that era… I dunno…"
Rose looked away. She didn't want to talk about this.
Pazy picked up on her body language instantly. He sighed, "You know… In his mind, he was jumping through hoops to win your heart. He was literally dropping millions of dollars without hesitation because he hoped it would end your frostiness to him. Do you have any idea how much that historic rock cost? He was spending WAY beyond his means…"
"He always thought throwing money at problems would make them go away. But gifts don't replace communication, love or happiness."
"That's how he was raised." Pazy shrugged indifferently.
Rose was suddenly irritated, "I thought you wanted to start with mother."
Pazy shrugged. "Today's just an introduction. Besides, it's all connected. It's this whole abandoned first life thing."
"But I died with such closure." Rose disagreed. "I don't understand why I have to be subjected to—"
"The subconscious is a funny thing." Pazy shrugged. "Your conscious mind may have thought everything was dandy… but a gal doesn't end up in purgatory by mistake."
And then he tapped on the large hourglass on his desk. The sand was nearly spent. "OK, cutey. We're good for today. This has been a promising introduction! I just need to sign some forms here and we'll call it a session."
"I don't feel any better." Rose interrupted. "I feel WORSE."
"Relax. This is a very long process. You don't drag out skeletons overnight."
"But-"
"It's gotta hurt before it heals. Trust me. I've done this a trillion times. Literally. You're a smart girl. You'll work through your issues faster than most do, I'm sure. But it takes time nonetheless. OK?"
Rose looked unimpressed, but knew there was nothing to say.
"I need to move on to another case. Sorry. I hate to kick ya right out the door, but it's fast paced around here. There isn't a second's pause. Believe me. I'd do anything to slow things down. I've been burned out for centuries now…"
"Oh no! Don't tell me I have to go back to that waiting room!"
"There are many waiting areas. Now that you've been processed you can wait in whichever one you like. Occupy yourself. But don't worry – no wait will ever be as long as that first one. You're in the system now. I have a set number of cases. I won't take on anyone new until I've had a successful crossing. You're a priority."
Rose wanted to complain about the staff and then thought better of it.
Instead she said, "The waiting drives one mad…"
He handed her the forms. "OK. Return these to your paper pusher."
As Rose opened the door to leave, Pazy called after her unexpectedly. "Hey – If it was me, I'd take a nice long nap. Enjoy a dream."
Rose nodded politely, not sure what to say.
Pazy was a cheerful, upbeat person and it had never occurred to her that he might be tired like the other workers. She made a mental note never to complain about the staff or the waiting periods again.
oooooooo
Rose decided to take a little detour before returning to the admin area. She had time to kill and she was growing very curious about this place – despite Pazy's instructions NOT to be.
She thought to herself – How can he just expect me to sit around mindlessly?
As she rounded the bend she saw a middle aged man with orange tinted skin filling a little cup of water at a cooler.
"Good day." She smiled politely.
"I'd be cheerful too if I had a future." He snorted.
Rose blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"Never mind." He sighed bitterly. "I've got work to do."
She watched him wander away slowly and tiredly…
What separated the workers from the other souls? Were they being punished for something?
"Carbon monoxide." She was startled by a voice behind her.
She turned and saw a janitor mopping the floor.
"I beg your pardon?" Her pulse was still racing.
"Meh." The janitor shrugged. "I just suspect he went to sleep in his garage on purpose… if ya know what I mean…"
Rose had no idea what that meant.
The custodian pushed his wheeled bucket down the hall. Rose watched him slipping away. And she couldn't resist. Here was someone willing to talk about forbidden things. This was her big chance to figure things out.
"What determines if someone is free or enslaved?" She asked bluntly.
He stopped rolling and turned to face her. She waited for an answer.
So he pulled his shirt collar down and revealed a deep, dark bruising around his throat. Like a rope had encircled it. And then he continued down the hall.
A memory from life came back to Rose sharply. Boring chatter at tea with ladies she couldn't bother to remember. But someone said something casually… just a silly little comment…
Well, you know what they say about people who commit suicide… they become slaves in the afterlife…
oooooooo
Rose couldn't stop thinking about herself hanging off the back of the Titanic. The freezing water had been rushing below her. It would have been a horrible way to die and then she would have found herself enslaved for all eternity in purgatory. The thought was alarming. Jack had saved her from a truly horrible fate.
Rose was more grateful to Jack than ever now. He really had saved her in every way possible! He'd even saved her soul…
She watched a zombie-like worker with frizzy hair clicking away on a typewriter for a solid hour. Rose just kept staring. It didn't even register that she wasn't suppose to stare, she couldn't help herself. Typing away for all eternity.
It was a sad thought. Exhausted and imprisoned… never to be reunited with loved ones… never able to rest…
Jack had saved her from eternal slavery! She really hoped she'd get to thank him for everything he'd done for her – in life and death.
Rose found herself thinking about all the people who had committed suicide in history. Like Cleopatra. Suddenly that love story didn't seem so romantic anymore. Cleo was probably a coffee girl now!
OH! Pazy. Her caseworker Pazy must have committed suicide.
She felt her stomach twist at the very idea. He was such a happy fellow!
"You'd better get those forms processed." An older man nudged her.
"Oh." Rose was jarred back to reality.
"HM. You're with Pazy too, eh? Cheerful young man."
And then Rose blurted out – "He couldn't have committed suicide!"
This man smirked, "You know the old Roman way – death before dishonour. Fall on your sword rather than let the enemy take you. You know what I mean."
That made a great deal of sense.
"There must be A LOT of Romans here." He chuckled and walked away.
Rose watched him walk away, disliking how he'd laughed. Pazy was a silly guy… but he'd clearly been sensitive about any discussion of his death or his inability to cross over. These people were trapped. There was nothing FUNNY about it at all.
And then she remembered her paperwork. She needed to get it out of the way. She could be called back soon!
oooooooo
If her paper pusher had expected her earlier, he didn't say anything. In fact, he barely looked at her. He just processed form after form without pause.
There were dark circles under his eyes. He was disheveled and looked like someone fighting just to survive. Yet he plowed on paper after paper.
She couldn't stop staring at this poor guy, but he failed to even notice.
This guy had killed himself. Looking at him now she could easily believe it. What method had he used? There was no way to tell. Like her, he appeared a normal human.
Every once and a while he'd circle a blank on a form with a highlighter…
He sighed, "Vespasian is notorious for his shoddy paperwork."
"Mistakes?" She frowned uncertainly.
"And blanks he's missed altogether. But I'm used to it."
"Sooo…" She prompted, but not impolitely.
"I'm going to indicate the corrections… Take them back to him, will you?"
He didn't say please. The way he spoke – Rose was struck with déjà vu again. There was something so familiar about these exchanges.
The officer paused and actually looked at her. "Mind him. He's careless."
Rose blinked. That was an unexpected personal touch.
And then he handed her additional blank forms. "Each session will require similar paperwork. Always return it to me for processing."
"How will I know when my next session starts?"
He froze and then shot her a look that indicated she should already know the answer. He leaned forward and took her arm, checking for…yes. A bracelet.
He sighed audibly with impatience – "This bracelet glows each time you're to return. Vespasian should have told you as much."
He had closed the gap between them. He was touching her. She could smell his after shave…
"I know you." She slowly withdrew her arm.
He looked at her seriously a moment and frowned. "I don't recognize you."
And then he returned to the papers before him indifferently.
Rose stared at him very hard. She was certain she knew him. It hadn't been the events causing the déjà vu. It was the man himself.
"Who are you?" She insisted stubbornly.
"My dear, I've been here a very long time. If I knew you, I don't recall."
"No. It's important." She grabbed his arm. She sensed it mattered somehow.
Their eyes met a moment.
He then motioned to her now glowing bracelet. "You're late."
Startled, Rose sprang to her feet, snatching up all the paperwork. She knew she'd be back later to resume this conversation. Meeting with Pazy was her ultimate priority.
As she exited, she rushed past a coffee girl who was approaching the desk.
Rose distinctly heard the girl say: "More coffee, Cal?"
Rose froze, her back straightening visibly. She looked back slowly…
And it was definitely Cal.
How had she not recognized him? It seemed so ridiculously obvious now.
Rose stood staring at him. He answered his phone, running a hand absently through his messy hair. He was unkempt in every way. He looked absolutely exhausted.
She'd never seen him like this before. It was shocking!
For an instant she pitied him. And then all the horrible memories started flooding back and she dreaded the idea of interacting with him again. She'd run away for a reason. She'd never wanted to see him again! She was suddenly very nervous about returning with her forms. What an unfortunate coincidence. Fortunately, he didn't seem to recognize her.
Suddenly, her wrist hurt. She looked down and realized her bracelet was truly glowing now. She had to go.
Taking one last awkward glance at Cal, she ran towards Pazy's office…