Disclaimer: Not mine. And if it was, Munch would be alive and kicking, I swear.
A/N: Sequel to Ways of a Grieving Soul.
I watch them laugh at a tension easing joke, trying to lighten the mood from a heavy case. I knew the feeling, but usually I was the one who cracked the joke, made everyone ease up. I missed it and knew they did too. Their smiles at the joke didn't quite reach their eyes, didn't quite seem as happy. I knew that look, the one that says that you know too much, seen too much. It's the look I used to see every morning in the mirror and every night when I came home, if I made it home.
They don't use mirrors much here in Heaven. You don't really care about how you look, it doesn't matter, you're dead. I often visit them, here at work, doing what I used to do, doing what, in part, killed me. I don't care about that though. I miss them, miss this place. The feel of coming in every day knowing that today you're going to help catch another bad guy, another rapist, another pedophile, only to try again tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that until they blur into years of it.
Of course, I don't have to know that feeling anymore, but I feel like I should remember it, remember it so that when I visit them, I can know their pain, know what makes their humor so morbid, their smiles so dim, their thoughts so depressing at times. I feel like I have to remember for them, so that when they get here and start to forget about what they did on Earth, I can remind them about the death and sadness so that they can remember and help.
I found out that angels really do exist, that there really are Guardian Angels and that after you're around here for awhile and still remember what it's like on Earth, they promote you. I want to help them still and it's about the only thing I can do that keeps my sanity around here, not that I really need it. Only bad thing about it is that they said I might not be able to wear such dark clothes anymore. Small price to pay.
I visited some of my family the other day, down on Earth. Some of my cousins, my brother, trying to see how they're doing. Lennie showed up here the other day. It was a nice little reunion, but considering where we were, I'd rather it be him greeting me instead of the other way around. He's settled in real nice around here, but I don't think he's forgotten either. Saw him going down to the 2-7 and knew he was checking up on his partner. I'd done the same thing more times than I care to count.
I've even visited Elliot and his family. Watched them eat dinner, with him at the table for the duration of the meal, for once. Watched his kids play and do their homework and little Elizabeth caused me to leave.
If there's one thing I know about when you die and getting to Heaven, anything you see back on Earth that relates too much to what caused your death, you go back because for a long time, you can't stand the pain of it.Yes, you still feel pain, even in death because you still have your soul and that's what hurts. Your being.
Anyway, I visit them a lot. I watch my replacement, Jacob Keifer, try to fit in. Try to fill shoes that I don't think he ever will. Fin resented him at first, but he's doing better. He's finally realized that it wasn't Jacob's fault that the Brass sent him here, to be Fin's partner. Wasn't Jacob's fault that I died.
Sometimes, I catch Olivia or Elliot looking over at my old desk, and I know it's not because they want to talk to Jacob. I never knew that they cared so much, never knew I'd be this missed. Sure, I wondered, but I never thought that their lives would be this changed because I was gone. Guess the Big Guy upstairs, as we up in Heaven fondly call him, had other plans in mind.
I knew I'd never go to Hell when I died, considering Jews don't believe in Hell, only Heaven, which is a sweet deal. I just never thought I'd be welcomed with such open arms. Never thought that I'd believe in angels or God or Guardian Angels. Guess my past told me that their couldn't be such things, especially since I'd been left out in the cold all these years, with no one to help me really but myself. Guess dying changes everything.