scarstar – Thanks! I love writing JohnAngela togetherness, they're fun (: Thanks also for your comment on my LJ, it meant a lot (hugs)

fanficgeek – Sometimes it feels like I'm rushing! I don't think me, drunk, and writing mix…let's just say bad experiences! I'm glad you liked the kiss, thanks for reviewing!

Lady Hawke – Excellent, that's what I like to hear! I'm glad you liked it, thanks for reviewing!

Lovely – It does sound kind of dirty, doesn't it? Happy 2006 to you too!

Budgiebird – I'm really sorry for the hold-up! Yeah, school sucks, but I hope this helps! Thanks for reviewing!

Sorry for the wait! I am such a bad person…but I'm here now, and that's what matters, right? My muse abandoned me, and so I ended up watching a lot of movies in an attempt to get it back. Didn't work, because now I'm obsessed with Kingdom of Heaven. Shit.

I was watching it earlier, so I think some of the atonement ideas in this chapter came from there. Snaps if you get which part I'm going on about. And also snaps if you're waiting on the edge of your seat for the Director's Cut like me.

Okay, important note – I said in the last chapter I was thinking of extending this beyond six chapters, and I'd give my answer here. Well, it's yes, I am extending this fic. It's probably be a fair length now, with a bit more of a plot. Is that good news? I hope so!

Once again – sorry for the delay, and I hope you all like the chapter.

Chapter VI: Ethereal

The golden lights of heaven beckoned. The radiant glow pulsed through the fluffy clouds, throwing beams of divine light onto the ground – only there was no ground. The air beneath her feet felt endless, as though there was now no connection between her body and the earth, only miles of gentle mist. It felt like hot gold suffused on beams of bronze light. No pearly gates or pure white clouds on a brilliantly blue sky. This was an explosion of sunrise colours, pale golds mingling with burnt oranges and deep russets that passed for shadows up here. All of these colours cradled the centre of white light emanating from a source beyond Angela's sight.

In all of her fantasies, heaven had never looked so perfect.

I must be dreaming she thought to herself. I have to be dreaming.

So why am I dreaming about heaven?

Clouds parted slightly, as if being swept aside by a divine hand. A figure formed from the wisps of peachy and golden clouds, a figure that seemed moulded from the clouds and the haze of heaven. The figure's back was slightly turned, its face turned towards the radiant light, but the long hair falling down her back received a gust of wind, a lift of golden mist from the unknown source, and it revealed just a glimpse of her face to Angela. That was all that was needed.

Isabel…

Her sister turned towards her, suddenly seeming more tangible than before, and there was just a flicker of a smile on her face. Not a smile of the inward peace that she wore when she was in Ravenscar, the smile of someone who knows something that rest of the world doesn't. It always made Angela feel that her sister had a whole world that she knew nothing about. But now, she smiled at Angela fully, as though she herself had brought Angela here.

But why…?

Suddenly Angela understood. She had brought her here to make her realise a fear she didn't know she had. She was terrified that Isabel wasn't in heaven. Everything she had done was to get atonement. Not for herself but for Isabel.

And now, she knew the truth at last.

She wanted so badly to hold her sister, wanted to let her know how grateful she was. Angela wasn't exactly the crying type, but after seeing her sister in heaven, it seemed reasonable that she felt more relieved than she ever had before.

She suddenly felt a small warmth in her hand, as though in a supernatural, psychic way, her sister had put her hand in hers. Angela wanted to reach out and grab her sister's hand for real, but she had the feeling that when she did, everything would vanish into wisps of smoke and mist.

Isabel's lips started to move, as though she was trying to tell Angela something. A slight look of urgency came over her face, and she gesticulated with her hands, trying earnestly to get some point across to her twin. What she was saying affected Angela deeply, but the second she tried to think about the words, she couldn't remember any of them. It was as though they wouldn't stay in her head.

Isabel finished speaking, and extended her hand towards Angela, as though she was going to give her something. She smiled, that strange smile that Angela still wasn't used to seeing, but without warning, the bright light behind her blared, and Angela was blinded by an influx of light. Her sister's silhouette disappeared in the violent intensity of the light, and there was a shriek, a cry that made Angela's ears feel like they were bleeding. The light continued to increase, and then disappeared like a blown bulb.

Angela woke with a start, the intensity of the light leaving an impression every time she blinked, but she didn't feel sleepy or half-awake. Instead she felt energised, as though she hadn't slept at all, but instead drunk about a dozen espressos. Her fists were tight around the sheet, as though she had been clutching it in her sleep. Her fingers left small marks until she pulled it out, making it straight and clean once more.

It took her a second to realise where she was. The shuttered light wasn't anything like the light that poured through the windows of her own apartment. That was soft and reassuring, as though it wouldn't creep in without her invitation. The dawn light that poured through the sharp steel shutters here felt like razor blades were coming in through her eyes. The bed was positioned just so that what little light filtered in through the shutters hit the steel bars of the cage surrounding his bed – something she'd meant to enquire about but had decided she didn't want to know – and bounce straight into her eyes. It was blinding, and frankly, she was amazed that she'd managed to get this much sleep. How did he sleep like this?

Thinking of the person who was still next to her, she turned slightly, looking directly into his sleeping face. Sleeping, with his defences gone, the look on his face was softer than the sharp, cynical, hardened being she usually faced. It was amazing how much his face seemed to change whilst he was sleeping.

There was a small part of Angela that was surprised he wasn't awake– he had a habit of always seeming to be alert and vigilant when she wasn't – and there was an even smaller part that wanted to wake him up. She wanted to tell him about her dream of Isabel. What did this mean? But deep inside, she was afraid that if she told him, he'd tell her in his most unfeeling way that it was a dream and nothing more. She didn't want to countenance that possibility. It was better that it stayed a dream, an ethereal fantasy, and then she could live in the hope that it was actually Isabel and not an over-active imagination.

Angela pushed that unpleasant thought out of her mind and headed for the bathroom as quietly as possible. Looking into the mirror, inexplicably cracked in the top right-hand corner, and blackened, as though a metal bolt wreathed in fire had been thrown against it. Looking into her own face, she saw that for the first time in a week, there weren't purpling bags under her eyes, transforming her face into that of an old woman's. For once she looked like she was vaguely together and in control.

Angela tried to pull her hair back into something that would look presentable. Like it or not, she'd have to go in to work today. She had taken a fair amount of time off after sorting out Isabel's funeral and she couldn't really afford to do so again. She didn't want to. She was good at her job and she knew it.

Checking her watch, she noted that if she left now, she might be able to go back to her apartment, grovel in front of her landlady for a spare key, change and go to work on time. She might just manage it.

Sliding into the main room, making no noise, she collected her jacket, which she had left over the back of a slightly dilapidated chair, and shrugged it on. The trinity amulet shifted until it was touching her bare skin, right between her collarbones, and the chill of the metal made her shiver.

"Not sticking around?"

Angela turned around sharply, her cop instincts making her react to the sound of his voice reflexively. "Some of us have a little thing called work" she said with a touch of humour. She went to the door, then stopped. She felt like she had to say or do something as a thank you. But there didn't seem to be anything she could do. Shake his hand? Kiss his cheek? This felt hideously awkward, and the fact that as a psychic and magus he could probably see her aura and tell what he was feeling didn't help the situation any.

Instead, she stepped a little closer in, not quite knowing what she was hoping to achieve, and hugged him. Maybe it was the feel of his heartbeat, almost in sync with hers, maybe it was the smell of sleep and the hint of the whiskey from the night before, but she was suddenly struck by the tangibility of all of this. When she'd met him, he hadn't quite seemed of this world. And then he'd shown her things that weren't of this world, and opened her up to a new realm of potential. Still, nothing had quite seemed real. But now, so close that she could smell his skin, it all felt real. It felt very real and natural and – almost – normal.

"Thank you" she whispered very softly, but she knew he would hear her. Then she pulled away and left the apartment quickly, running down the stairs and through the bowling alley as quickly as possible because she knew that there was a large part of her that wanted to stay there, against her better judgement.

Oh…foreshadowing there. And a little fluff. But mostly foreshadowing.

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