"Doyle? Is it really you?" Cordelia asked, glaring through the light that flowed around him.
"Yes, Princess, its really me... Better yet, what are you doing here?" he asked gently.
"Ahh..." she began, at a loss for words, so unlike her.
"I thought you were stronger than that, Cordelia," Doyle said, in a almost scolding, disappoint voice.
"Well, I guess you didn't know me that well, huh?" she asked in a bitter voice, tears springing to her eyes.
Doyle simply ignored the comment, like he hadn't heard it and ushered her out and through a clouded door.
***
"Where are we?" Cordelia asked, a little confused.
Her eyes hurt, everywhere you looked, light and more light.
"Your eyes will adjust in a moment and this, this is Heaven."
"Heaven," she whispered, looking around.
***
All around there were children playing out horses and merry-go-rounds. Some ate cotton candy, others candy apples. Then if you turned around there were teenagers kissing in the moonlight and a couple walking through the grass on a hot, sunny day. Everything was ... together.
***
"How can this be?" Cordelia asked, lightly, more of a gasp.
Doyle chuckled.
"We see everything at once, but for them, they are all alone. Those teenagers just see them and the moonlight. The couple the grass and the sun. The children, the carnival and the candies. They see what they want to see."
"Wow, so this is heaven. Where will I go Doyle?" she asked.
"Not here Cordelia," he said with a look of pain and disappointment on his face.
"Then where?" she asked, bewildered.
"Someplace better? France?" she asked, hopeful.
He just looked at her.
"Your dead, Cordelia, remember? You slit your wrists and your not going anywhere but to hell, love," he said with sadness in his voice.
"Hell?" Cordelia murmured, outraged more than anything.