Rating: PG
Content: Some not G language
Spoilers: Through Hero
Summary: Set after Hero, Doyle meets the one person who can really understand what he's given up.
Disclaimer: Joss giveth and Joss taketh away. I am but a lowly fanfic writer wishing it never happened.

It was done. He had done it. And now the fire was too much to bear. Doyle let go. A great gaping mouth
of unconsciousness came and swallowed him into peaceful darkness.

Then it spat him out again.

He opened his eyes to an ordinary white ceiling.  "Huh. Really thought I'd kicked it that time."

"Oh, you did."

Startled, he turned towards the voice. "What's that again?"

"You're definitely dead."  Sitting ten feet away on a low green velvet chair was a slim dark-haired woman in
a short purple dress. The face was vaguely familiar, though the voice wasn't.

"Ah. That explains why I dunna feel like the human torch anymore. A new realization hit him. Doesn't
explain why I'm naked."

The woman chuckled.

"Damn. I'm in Hell, arent I?"  He covered his eyes with one arm.  "Go ahead, get on with torture.
Really, though, I thought the dying a hero thing might give me a bito grace, you know."

"What would you rather be wearing?"

"Just my regular kit would be lovely, thanks."  He was dressed before he finished the sentence.  Experimentally, he sat up, and looked himself over.  Jacket, slacks, bowling shirt.

"Better?"

"Much. Thanks."

"Funny thing about the Irish, they can turn such lovely colors when they're embarrassed."

"Funny thing about me, I like to know a lady a bit before she sees me in my altogether," Doyle snapped
back.

"We'll get to that. Want a chair?"

"I suppose so."

"Picture one."

The deep leather chair in Angel's apartment popped to mind and then appeared. Doyle picked himself up and
settled in with a sigh. "Always liked this chair. You know, wit a pint of Guinness in hand, I might reconsider, call this heaven."  The woman motioned to his right. A small table with a full glass sat within reach.  "An' that would make you the heavenly host?"

"Wrong on both counts."

Unconcerned, Doyle sipped his pint. "Alright then. I know one thing for certain. You're dead."

"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock."

"Yea, but I also know how you died. I've had a very unpleasant vision of you havin' your neck snapped by a
friend omine. In his de-souled era, ocourse."

"So you do know."

"That much yeah, but not your name."

"Jenny Calandar."  She offered a hand.

He shook briefly and returned to his chair.  "Alan Francis Dolye. I've been goin' by the just the last bit these days.  He took another swallow of Guinness. You know, I'm thinkin' it must have been high time for me to pass on."

Jenny eyed him quizzically. "And why is that?"

"Cause anyone as calm as me about something as weird as this they've seen far too much in their time."

"You have seen too much. But the calm is just shock.  The horrible reality of your life being over, the anguish of being yanked away from those you love and unable to comfort or protect them - those will hit you soon enough."

Doyle set his glass down with a thud.  "Now, see, I'm becomin' unclear on the whole heaven/hell thing again."

"That's understandable. This is neither."

"Oh, I get it."  Doyle left his chair to pace.  "This is limbo isn't it? I'm bein' judged here, right? You coulda at least warned me, you know, to watch the language or limit the drinkin or whatever!"

"Judgement is over. If you'd got a thumbs down you wouldn't be here. Now sit down and calm down."  Jenny gave him her best stern look.

Doyle sighed and returned to the chair.  "You were a teacher, weren't ya?"

"Yeah." A sad smile came and went on her delicate face.  "It's been awhile now. Did you see that in a vision too?"

"No, heard it in your voice. I did a bit of teachin' myself, long time back."

"Maybe we can compare notes some time. For now, let me do lecturing, okay? I'm supposed to be here to explain things, make it easier for you, and I haven't done a terrific job so far."

"Should I be takin notes?"

"This isn't the sort of stuff you forget. " Jenny paused, lounging back in the chair. Another table appeared beside her, with a glass of red wine. For a moment she sat sipping it, apparently collecting her thoughts.  "I don't know much about the powers that judge us or brought us here. I can assume they're the source quite a few things we can't explain, your visions included."

"Sadistic lot, they are."  Doyle grimaced.

"Well, lets say that making things easy isnt their first priority."  Jenny shrugged.  "It's hard to judge a power that exists so many levels above your own plane. What I do know is what they value."

"So far I'd have to guess comfortable seatin and alcoholic beverages."

Jenny grinned briefly.  "I mean on earth. See, they consider that we've been given two great gifts in human life: the ability to make choices, and the capacity for love."

"Free will and compassion. Thas it?"

"Those are the universals. They've been granted to everyone on the planet. How you use them, thats what makes the difference."

"Difference in what, exactly?"

"Judgement. Make too many choices out of fear or anger, love only yourself, limit the freedom of others, and you've squandered the gifts, proved yourself unworthy of them."

"Then to Hell with ya?"

"Only in the most drastic cases. As it turns out, the Buddhists were a lot more accurate in their cosmology than the western religions."

"Care to translate for the lapsed Catholic in the audience?"

Jenny paused a moment, long enough for a notepad and pencil to appear in her hands, she began to sketch as she talked. "Look, existence is arranged like a  ladder, rungs going up and down. Each rung is a sort of plane of existence, a lifetime of sorts. I don't know how many rungs there are, thousands at least. When your life on earth ends, you are judged. If you
messed up, your choices are taken away. You go down the ladder, the number of rungs down dependant on how badly you did. You get another chance, another life, but each rung down the deck is stacked against you a little more, and youve got fewer chances for happiness or enlightenment or whatever. Still, you can make your way back up, unless you drop off the bottom of the ladder altogether."

"And thas Hell?"

"That's Hell. No way out. Unless you're Angel, apparently, but that's a mystery well beyond my abilities."

"And if ya protect freedom and are kind to animals and all that?"

"You move up." Jenny doodled a few arrows on the pad, moving up varying numbers of rungs.

"Get a new life?"

"A new existence. New game, new rules. But you are guaranteed a hand at least a bit better than last time around. And, since you used your choices reasonably well, you also get one last decision, to make at your leisure."

"That bein'?"

"To stay here, or walk through that door,"  Jenny gestured across the room to an arched wooden door.

"An what's behind door number only, then?"

"Your new life."

"An' what's here?"

"Not a terrible lot, honestly."  Jenny sat back in her chair.  "Good seating. Any clothes you want, not that you have a reflection to admire them with. Any food or drink you like, not that you'll feel either hungry or thirsty while here. You can read or write, but it will disappear and you'll forget it when you're done.  Heck, you can do some knitting if you want, but..."

"Let me guess, it vanishess when you finish?"

"Got it in one."

"An' you've been here for how long?"

"Little over a year and a half now."  Jenny sipped her wine again.

"Why then? Ya have a whole new life waiting for ya, woman, and you sit here in this, this..."

"Place out of time."

"Place out of time?" Doyle slammed his drink down and jumped up to stand over Jenny.  "For a bloody year and bloody half. By the gods, WHY?"

Jenny looked up, her eyes suddenly snapping with anger.  "Because you walk through that door boyo, and you can't look back."  She stood up, toe-to-toe with him.  "A new existence means you forget entirely about the old one. And those people you left behind? You MIGHT see them again, IF you all eventually make it to the top of the ladder in a couple of THOUSAND lifetimes. Till then, they're lost to you, you hear me? GONE!"

Doyle stood his ground.  "They're lost to me now! But I'm supposed to sit in this damn boring room with just my memories? Broodin', worryin', drinkin' a spot of tea I'm not even thirsty for? Thats no bloody choice at all!"

Abruptly, the anger drained out of the slim woman, left her paler and sadder than before. She dropped back into her chair. "That's because, once again, I haven't explained this very well."  She motioned Doyle back to his chair, but he remained there, glaring down at her.  "Doyle. It's not just memories. Watch."

As she pointed to the wall opposite the door it blurred, wavered and began to refocus itself in new and familiar lines. "My apartment? "Doyle squinted as the picture cleared up, revealing a man and a woman moving through an untidy room, dim with sunlight straining to pierce the drawn blinds, but not succeeding.

"Listen," Jenny said.

"Angel, what are we going to do with all this junky stuff?" Cordelia gazed at an open drawer of slacks.

"Give it to charity. " Angel went on laying things in boxes.

"Charity wants these things?"  She held up a handful of colorful shirts.

"It's not that bad. At her disbelieving look, "he shrugged.  "I'm not saying I'd wear them, but..."

"Well, duh, like they'd fit you?" Cordy began to fold the shirts into boxes with a care that belied her tone. She glanced back as Angel began going through the closet.  "Hey! Not that!"

Angel looked at her quizzically, holding up a slightly battered leather jacket. She took it from him, turning away. They stood in silence until Angel saw her shoulders start to shake. Even as he stepped towards her, however, Cordelia slipped the jacket on and whirled back to face him. "Okay, what next?"

"Cordelia."

"Look, it totally goes with this outfit, okay?" Her eyes dared him to contradict her.

After a moment of silence, he nodded. "You're right."

"As usual." She crossed to sit on the bed and opened the drawer to the night table. "Pictures." Her voice had gone suddenly flat.

"Old ones?" Angel walked towards her.

"Yeah."

"Maybe we should sent them to Harry."  Angel reached her and looked down at what she was holding. "Oh."

"I've been wondering what happened this. I wanted to add it to my headshots my yearbook picture, to show I even look good impromptu."

"Apparently he thought so."

Cordelia slammed the drawer closed, shoved the picture in her pocket and headed out the door.

"Cordelia, wait."

She whirled back, swallowing hard. "I can't stay here. Not yet, okay?"

He looked around, and rubbed a hand over his face. "Neither can I. Lets go back to the office."

Cordelia nodded.  "See you back there."

"Wait, you're going alone?"

"It's day. Sunburn time for you, remember? And if you think I'm going through the sewers with you,
you're more Neanderthal than you look."  She marched out.

Angel looked once more around the apartment.  "You told me to get to know the people I saved. Care about them or I'd lose my soul. What about when I care and I cant save them? I'll lose my sanity."  Defeated, he leaned against a wall.  "Look at me, I'm already talking to an empty room."  Angel shook himself and slipped out, locking the door behind him.

And then the wall was just a wall again. Doyle sunk back into his chair, shoulders slumped. "An' that was supposed to make me feel better?"

"No. It was supposed to help you understand why some people choose to stay here. We're not ready to let go yet. There's still love back there. And there remains the possibility that you can help them."

"How?"

"If you're watching, and they call on you, in the belief, or even hope, that you can help them, you can
send them your knowledge, your emotions, for comfort."

"And how often does that happen?"

Jenny sighed.  "Not nearly enough. When Willow used my spell to restore Angels soul, that was the deepest I've been. I actually possessed her. I managed to leave her the little Wicca I knew, and give her my love."  Jenny eyes looked past Doyle, beyond him.  "I've slipped Rupert a few inspirations and some small comforts."  She returned her gaze to him. "I got through to Buffy twice, but only barely. I even managed to tip off Xander once in the magic shop."  She grinned, then considered.  "You don't actually know most of these people, do you?"

"Not personally, but I've gathered enough to keep up."  Doyle leaned back.  "So, now, I can stay here and watch, maybe help out if they ask for me, or I can walk through the door and forget about all of that life. Tha' the way of it?"

"That about sums it up."

"Not much of a choice, is it?"

"The gifts from the Powers are always mixed with a liberal dash of pain."

"Cordelia once told me if shed been given my gift, she'd return it."

Jenny chucked. "That girl's much more practical than anyone gives her credit for."

"She's a lot more everythin' than anyone gives her credit for."  Doyle leaned back, remembering her last great smile at him, and their only kiss. He took a deep breath and turned back to Jenny. "I'm not ready to forget her. And if there's any chance I could still be of some use."

"I know."  Jenny reached across, took his hands.  "I know it feels. The door will still be there when you want it."

"So, now what?"

"Well, you can have another room, all to yourself.  Or, since we keep an eye on some of the same people, we could both stay here."

Doyle nodded, and glanced around the room, considering.  "Could we change the décor?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"This."  A picture of a cozy Irish pub formed in his mind, then in the room.

"Nice."  Jenny leaned back, sniffing the air.  "Peat fires a nice touch."

"Door on one end, fire and a bar on the other, and a wall each for viewin' purposes."

"Looks good. But the next redecoration is mine."

"Fair enough."  Doyle leaned in, lowered his voice.  "Now what I want to know is can we watch them all the
time? I mean..."

Jenny grinned at him.  "Well the shower is a little blurry but yeah."  She leaned back, voice serious, but
eyes still twinkling.  "I mean, its a vulnerable time you never know when they might need you."

Doyle nodded seriously.  "You're absolutely right."

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