It was in the evening when it had happened. Dear sweet Feliciano, so naive and so cowardly, unawares to the cold presence lurking closer in the twilight. It was a warm summer night, when the sun had gone down but still left traces of red from the evening sky a few hours earlier. Feliciano had just returned from the supermarket. He ran out of garlic for the pasta simmering back home. He turned the next corner, his house was just a few feet away.

And then it struck. A large knife from behind had pierced through his chest, ripped his shirt and was sticking out in front of him. At first it was the air being knocked out of him that hit Feliciano first. It felt like someone had taken the air right from his lungs. Then the pain. Oh god, the pain. He tried to scream, but his voice was garbled by his own blood bubbling up his throat and drooling past his lips. He felt light-headed. It was almost as if he was floating, he felt his arms and legs go numb, his muscles aching and his face growing colder. The knife pulled out of him, allowing the blood that was hidden behind the knife to pool and splatter across the pavement. He had always wondered what death's embrace felt like. It was like being hugged in a very thick, warm blanket, on the verge of falling asleep. It reminded him of the days he was hugged tightly by his grandpa when he was a little boy. That memory made Feliciano's experience a little less painful. His eyes were wide open, yet it was like he had them closed as his vision darkened. His limp body hit the floor. Feliciano Vargas was dead.

It came to no surprise the story was all over the news the next day. Photographs of the chalk line and evidence found at the scene of the crime, splattered all across the tabloids. He was found in the early morning by a bystander on their way to work. Nobody knew who had done it. Feliciano lived in a small, peaceful town. Everybody knew each other so well that secrets definitely did not stay a secret for long. After the news was spread, the grieving process took it's place. Candles, flowers and letters had clogged up the streets around Feliciano's house and the chalk line that stayed on path ominously.

His body was taken in by Ivan Braginski. This was his line of work, to check the bodies of any signs of drug usage before the attack, any alcohol still left in the blood. "Ivan, any news?" a voice spoke from behind the door. Ivan looked over to detective Kirkland, shaking his head grimly. "Nyet, I'm afraid this was a murder without any sign of intoxication" Ivan explained, pulling off his blood soaked gloves and tossing them into the bin. "Get him stitched up then, will you? the funeral's on Thursday" Alfred said through his doughnut. "Alfred! For god's sake, man! Try to be more sensitive! This was your neighbor we're talking about!" Arthur scolded, smacking the doughnut from Alfred's jaw and stepping on it, squeezing the jam onto the floor. "Awww, come on! If Feliciano were here, he'd be having a laugh with me!" "Well he's not and that's a problem. Get back to work! We need to catch this killer before he kills anybody else from our community!" Arthur snapped, "Ivan...make him look presentable". Twisting Alfred's ear, the pair walked out of the morgue. "Da. Will do, that is what I'm here for after all!" Ivan grimly muttered, slapping on another set of gloves and picking up his tools again.

Rain pattered thickly against umbrellas as the coffin was slowly lowered into the ground. "Fratello, damn it, you bastard...I always told you not to go out late at night...now look where you are..." Lovino struggled through the waves of tears sliding down his cheeks, "I wish...you were still here...". Lovino threw the bouquet of flowers into the ground, giving a nod to the grave digger and returning to his seat among the sea of mourners.

With each scrape of the shovel taking in more soft earth, Ludwig could feel his heart tighten in his chest. His lover laid inside that coffin, with dirt tumbling onto the surface and stealing the light from above the grave. Oh how he wished he could jump in and save him, yet he knew he could not. It was like any feeling of happiness he had had in a while was being buried along in the ground with him. His throat was aching and his eyes were getting a warm prickle. He was mustering all his strength not to cry, but instead to try and smile a little knowing his love was finally at peace. Ludwig only wished it didn't make him feel so sad.

They stayed until the last clump of earth was patted down, everyone grabbed a coffee, exchanged their memories and interactions with the late Feliciano Vargas and went on their way in sorrow.

It had been three weeks. "Still no sign! We're drawing blanks sir!" Yao snipped at Francis. "Well then, maybe try patrolling the area with the hounds!" He snapped back, swishing his fabulous blonde curls in frustration. "Already tried that, frog. Those hounds have been patrolling the same area for the past two weeks. We've tried giving them Feliciano's clothing to see if any of them can smell anything of relevance. Nothing. Bloody nothing!" Arthur grumbled, taking another swig of his tea. "You know, it could be anyone! We all know each other. Maybe we should interrogate likely suspects again!"Alfred suggested. "Should that be the case, who are the suspects?" Ivan asked, taking a large bite from a muffin on the table.

First we have Lovino Vargas, his older brother. He claims to have been staying at home during the attack, although there's a chance he could be lying. His brother WAS the owner of loads of food manufacturing businesses. If you ask me, his story is making me suspect a little sibling fight over pocket money" Alfred spoke, pulling out a file filled with pictures and transcripts of Lovino's existence.

Then there's his lover, Ludwig Beilschmidt. Tough fellow, judging by Feliciano's usual cowardly ways, it would surprise me he was trapped in an unhealthy relationship. Ludwig wasn't crying at the funeral, believe it or not, I saw him smiling to himself as the coffin was going in! I'd say that is mighty suspicious, not crying at the funeral of your partner for the past four years" Arthur added. "I object!" Yao spoke up, "Mr. Beilschmidt did confess to me that he was planning a proposal to Feliciano a few weeks after the attack. He had booked a cruise ship to propose to him on. What sort of killer organizes a trip for he and his deceased partner?". "Unless there was someone else. tsk tsk, that meathead, he had probably killed his partner to fulfill his relationship with another partner, by taking them on a cruise ship and proposing!" Francis exclaimed, banging his fist on the table in realization. "Except you idiot, that would make no sense because he would be caught instantly. Let's not go waggling our fingers at people yet" Arthur sighed in frustration, rubbing his temples. There was a long, thoughtful pause.

Only two suspects and no clues. Gentlemen, I believe this has to be our toughest case yet" Ivan sighed. The detectives looked at each other's eyes all around the room. They did not look the way they did before the case. Bags under their eyes, their features tired and worn out. Everyone had frustration, confusion, but most of all, grief, written in their eyes. Why did it have to be Feliciano?

Cold...so cold...it was tight and uncomfortable. But most of all, dark. There was no sound. So this is what it was like to be dead? Feliciano tried to stretch out his legs, but found he was stuck in a fetal position, pressed against thick, hard walls. He could manage to lay on his back, thankfully, his legs awkwardly bent, suspended up in the air. While there wasn't enough room for him to stretch out, there was room for him kick a little. To which he did, violently kicking the ceiling until it made a cracking sound and something pattered against his leg. Dirt? Wiggling his hips to move him down to the source of the dirt falling into this domain, he began to punch upwards. He couldn't stretch his arms far, but Feliciano could feel there was a way to get out if he tried. He punched and kicked the ceiling for what felt like hours. Whatever he was stuck in did not have the best quality wood as it was moist and weak. Then arm punched a hole through the ceiling, letting dirt tumble in. Feliciano could stick both hands out the hole, but he could feel the dirt starting to fill up around him. Panicking, he punched and scraped around the hole, making it big enough for him to slither through. He felt like a mole, frantically digging towards the sky until his fingertips touched the cold night air. He wriggled out with a gasp, the moonlight hitting his eyes and the air filling his lungs. How was this possible? Was he dead or alive?! Feliciano looked at the tombstone behind him.

"Here lies Feliciano Vargas, beloved brother taking far too soon. May his spirit rest in heaven"

Why? Feliciano slid his body all the way out of the hole and began to cry. Had he really been dead? Did his family and friends really hold a funeral for him? His body shook as he sobbed loudly. He was alive! He looked over his torso, his wound had completely vanished without a trace. It was almost as if his death had been a bad dream. But how was this possible?

"I see you got out safely"

Feliciano whipped his head around to the calm voice behind him. "Matthew? Matthew Williams?" Feliciano spluttered out in disbelief. "Yes. I'm sure you're very confused. Allow me to explain" he spoke softly, "We are dead. Well, I'm only half dead as a matter of fact! Technically I'm part ghost! I died ages ago". Matthew giggled at Feliciano's shocked expression. "Listen, you are very fortunate to have this opportunity! When I first took it I didn't know what to expect" Matthew smiled. "W-w-w-w-w-what OPPORTUNITY?! WHAT IS HAPPENING?!" Feliciano screamed. None of this was making any sense. "You see, when a person dies, they are either sent to heaven or hell, yes? That's how it's supposed to go anyway. But! If you were murdered, your soul gets put in a lottery to try and reclaim the life you lost, on the exception you have to expose the person who killed you within two weeks. If you do that, you are brought back to life" Matthew explained, "in my case, I was murdered on a hiking trail. Nobody found me for days so everyone just assumed I was a missing person. But before I could expose the person who killed me, the police had already found him for another case. So while I didn't do my job right, I didn't exactly fail either. So now I'm here". Feliciano clenched his hands into fists so hard that his nails began to dig into his skin. So he really was alive after all. How was he going to expose his killer? He didn't even get to see their face!

"I've got to go...I...I need to see Ludwig..." Feliciano mumbled. This was a lot to take in. Maybe if he saw Ludwig again and explained everything, maybe he would help. "If you insist. I'd be very careful on your way back...you were in the newspapers after all..." Matthew spoke cautiously. "Si! I will! Thank you, Matthew! Ciao!" He said, as he dusted off his head from dirt and began to walk out of the graveyard. /p