[ WP ] You are at the Pearly Gates . You find out the only reason you get to go to Heaven is because a previously deceased loved one took your spot in Hell .

Fitz was disturbed by a breeze. He opened his eyes, and sat up, looking around with a puzzled look on his face. He sat in what looked to be a park in a middle class area. A hue oak tree hung above him, its leaves a gentle canopy against the warm sun, though leaving enough to filter through to stay just warm enough for it to be pleasant. The grass was neat and trimmed, and there were no dirt patches in sight. Birds whistled somewhere in the distance. It was the perfect day. But there was nobody around. Such a beautiful day and nobody was here but him. He lay back in the grass. 
 
 `` Enjoying it?'' 
 
 He snapped up and his gaze met with another man. His brows furrowed, and he looked from left to right. The other man chuckled. 
 
 `` I came here when you got used to your surroundings. You can call me Michael.'' 
 
 Fitz lay back in the grass. 
 
 `` Do n't wan na call you anything, mate. I just want to enjoy this while it lasts.'' 
 
 `` Well then we'll be here for a while.'' Michael answered. 
 
 `` Good weather forecast or something?'' 
 
 `` You could say that.'' 
 
 Fitz took the time then to look up at Michael. His strawberry blonde hair was long and wavy, he wore a white tunic with light blue jeans and no shoes, and he had a look of content on his face. Fitz looked at him incredulously. 
 
 `` Are you one of those hippies or something?'' he asked. 
 
 `` You could say so.'' 
 
 `` And why do you keep talking like that? Like you do n't want to answer me proper?'' 
 
 `` I will *answer you proper* when you start *asking the right questions. * Horribly cliché, I know, but that's how these things work.'' 
 
 `` What are you on about?'' Fitz asked. He rose to his feet. 
 
 `` Do you not wonder how you got here, or even where you are for that matter?'' Michael asked. The man squared up to Fitz with a scowl now on his beautiful face. 
 
 `` I...'' Fitz stopped. 
 
 `` You're dead.'' Michael said. 
 
 `` I'm not. I'm here and so are you.'' Fitz instantly denied. 
 
 `` I was always here. You just got here. And why here? Let's see.'' Micheal clicked his tongue, reached behind his back and took out a notepad. 
 
 Fitz looked like he had just been hit by something. 
 
 `` Fitzwilliam Hague. What a name!'' 
 
 `` How do you-'' 
 
 `` Oh and the things you've done.'' Michael interrupted. `` Identity theft, petty theft, major theft, adultery, gambling, and what's this here? Murder! How delightful!'' 
 
 `` Where am I?'' 
 
 `` Not to mention the reason for all of this. A crippling addiction to methamphetamines!'' 
 
 `` I..how...'' Fitz stuttered. 
 
 `` I am an angel, Fitzwilliam, and you are in heaven.'' 
 
 The breeze went by. The birds tweeted. The park was silent. And then Fitz started to laugh. 
 
 `` Right, yeah, and I'm the fucking pope! Jesus, after all the things you just said how could I possibly be in heaven? Who put you up to this, Alex? Was it Carl? Who was it? How did you even get me here?'' 
 
 `` You got here by your own accord, your own doing, your own needle! You are dead and the reason you are here is not your doing!'' Michael roared. 
 
 Thunder clapped in the distance before he composed himself. 
 
 `` Look at yourself. Your arms. Your fingernails. Touch your hair. Breathe, smell.'' 
 
 Fitz paused, and looked. His skin looked rosier. The track marks were one from the insides of his arm. The tattoo of his drug dealer's initials was gone from his shoulder. His hair felt fuller and thicker. And then he took a breath ad smelt properly for the first time in seven years. 
 
 Pollen, and grass. And air. 
 
 `` Air should n't have a smell. It's just air.'' He said in wonder. 
 
 Michael looked at him then, and Fitz saw pity in the man's eyes. Pity, but also disgust. 
 
 `` Fitz, you are n't good enough for this place. You did't get here on your own.'' 
 
 `` Well how did I get here then?'' 
 
 Michael took Fitz's arm then, and steered him to walk with him. The scenery changed nearly instantly to a small living room. A fire roared in a large fireplace, and two worn yet comfortable armchairs were at either side. A christmas tree was to the left, ad looking through the window to the right, you could see it was snowing outside. Where outside was though was a mystery. There was only an old streetlamp and the faint light of another house across the road. 
 
 `` Heaven adjusts itself to what each person needs. When you woke up, you needed peace.'' 
 
 `` What do we need now?'' 
 
 `` A comfortable place to sit.'' Michael said. He sank into the right armchair, and gestured for Fitz to take the other. 
 
 `` Are you going to tell me how I got here now? If I... died, should n't I be in hell if I'm so shit?'' 
 
 `` Fitz you were n't just shit. You were deplorable. We understand that there were reasons for the way you behaved, but you had a chance to get out and you turned it down. You could have been saved and you chose to keep on how you were.'' 
 
 `` I... I do n't know what to say. You're right. I had a chance.'' 
 
 `` So for all accounts, you should ot be allowed here.'' 
 
 `` But why am I?'' Fitz asked. 
 
 The angel sighed slightly, and leant back in his armchair, his brow furrowed. 
 
 `` Nina. She grew up with you. before you spent your trust fund and your father disowned you. She always loved you. And when you disappeared she looked for you everywhere she could. When you showed up at her doorstep, curled over with withdrawals, she went out into the city and bought you meth because it was the only way she knew to make you stop screaming out in pain.'' 
 
 `` Stop.'' Fitz said, weakly. His head was in his hands now, in his knees. He rocked back and forth. 
 
 `` And she tried to help you. She offered to put you in rehab and you kept putting it off.'' 
 
 `` Stop!'' Fitz said louder. 
 
 `` You used her to keep on buying your meth when you had no money to! When you were dried up you used her!'' 
 
 `` I SAID STOP!'' Fitz screamed. He launched himself up and punched the wall furiously. 
 
 In a fake house on fake Christmas Day in a corner of heaven, an angel looked on as a saved drug addict cried. 
 
 `` Fitz, you went missing and shortly afterwards she was in an accident. It was nothing to do with you, before you ask. It was a car crash. Drunk driver. She died instantly. That was three years ago.'' 
 
 `` Where is she?'' Fitz demanded. 
 
 Michael got that pity/disgust look on his face again. 
 
 `` She took your place.'' 
 
 `` What?'' 
 
 `` In hell. She took your place.'' 
 
 `` That's... that's not... that's not possible is it?'' 
 
 `` It is.'' 
 
 `` This is a joke.'' 
 
 `` It's not.'' 
 
 `` It is!'' 
 
 `` It's not!'' 
 
 Michael stood. 
 
 `` She heard you were dead and she dragged herself up to an archangel and she begged. And the archangel looked into her heart and saw the hatred and the pity and the suffering that was in her heart that was because of you. But more than that, more than anything was love.'' 
 
 Silence hung in the air like a knife. 
 
 `` She loved you in many ways. She tried to protect you. But she could not in life. She chose to in death.'' Michael finished. 
 
 `` I... I...'' 
 
 `` The irony of this whole situation is that you will both be in hell. Her physically, and you... well, every day you will have to think about her down there. You are saved, Fitz. In paradise. All because of her.'' 

