FIVE MONTHS AND THIRTY DAYS AFTER THE DEATH OF OLIVER SALLOW

"Congrats on finishing your first case!"

Steadying himself on the desk in front of him, Oliver blinks, trying to catch his breath. He feels a little bit like he used to when he was alive and forgot to take his iron supplement—that woozy sensation of his body trying to tell him something is wrong.

He supposes being non-consensually zapped from one end of England to the other without warning could do that to a person. One moment he's sitting in the windowsill in Blissby School's library, the next he's back in Dover, standing at the reception desk in the foyer.

With great effort, he manages to stop the world from blurring. His voice comes out sounding as righteously indignant as he feels. "What the fuck?"

The guy behind the reception smiles at him. Oliver's seen him around a few times—he's another one of the mentors next to Dana. "Sorry, I know it's a bit of a shock the first time it happens. But congrats! You did it!"

"Did... did what?"

"Your first case," he patiently repeats. That customer-service smile never wavers. "You finished it! Are you ready to meet your next assignee?"

"Wait." All at once, awareness returns to Oliver, and with it an icy feeling of panic. "My case isn't finished. There has to be a mistake."

"Oh, but it is! It's Case 4839, right? Finn O'Connell." The boy types something on the old-fashioned monster of a computer on his desk. "The intervention has met its goal when Finn O'Connell feels like he can be unapologetically himself; when he learns to accept help; when he's truly, properly happy," he reads. "That's what you wrote, isn't it?"

Oliver feels like his legs are going to give out. The operation's infernal guideline pops into his mind again. L is for Leave. Once the goal of the intervention is met, contact should cease to allow for a return to normal life.

"But... we weren't finished yet," he says.

"According to Susan, you are." The boy adjusts his glasses. "Susan can sense the instant that an intervention has met its goal. I'm sorry it came as such a surprise—I know what it's like to get attached."

I really don't think you do, Oliver hysterically thinks and then This can't be happening.

"Listen, it's—I need to at least say goodbye," he says. There's a real sound of desperation in his voice now. He would be embarrassed about it if it weren't all he was feeling. "I'm going back."

The mentor says nothing. His expression is slightly pitying as Oliver thinks about Finn with all the bloody intention he can muster and still finds himself rooted to the same spot.

"Oliver," the boy gently says. "It's all right. I'm sure you'll get along just fine with your next case as well. Speaking of which, it would be great if you could have a look at her file either today or—"

"I'm not taking another case," Oliver cuts him off.

"What?"

"I'm not taking another case," Oliver repeats. He has to press each word through his teeth. "I need to see Finn O'Connell."

Now there's the slightest hint of exasperation on the mentor's face. "That's not how this works. Operation HALO is not about fostering co-dependency. It's about giving our assignees the tools to return to normal life without—"

"Stop reciting the fucking handbook! If Operation HALO wasn't about co-dependency, then they shouldn't have sent me to guide my ex-boyfriend! What the fuck did you think was going to ha—"

"Oliver?"

He whirls around at the sound of Dana's voice. She's crossing the foyer with a concerned frown, Nova trailing close behind. "What's wrong?"

"Apparently, my case with Finn is finished," he manages. "I didn't... We were supposed to have another six months. It wasn't supposed to just be over."

"Shit," Nova whispers. "Ollie, I'm so sorry."

He doesn't even realize he's blinking away tears before her small hand is coming up to wipe away the one traitorous drop that made it out. It's mortifying. He wills them to stop coming, but they don't seem to need his permission—his eyes only burn more as he thinks about Finn in the library, blinking in confusion at the space that he occupied mere minutes ago.

For a few days there, things felt almost okay. He should've known that it couldn't last. It never fucking does.

"No." His gaze snaps up at the sound of Dana's voice. She's standing with her hands on her hips, a look of grim determination on her face. "It's not over."

"I'm pretty sure it is," he rasps, still wiping futilely at his eyes. "I can't transport myself to him anymore."

Dana ignores him. Bracing her hands on the reception desk, she stares at the boy behind it. "Brent," she says. "I want you to schedule a meeting with Susan in five minutes."

Behind his glasses, Brent's eyes widen. "What? But—that's not protocol."

"Nothing about this goddamn case is protocol. Do it."

Even in his state, Oliver has to admit that there is something awe-inspiring about Dana just then. Next to him, Nova is staring at her like she's never seen her before.

"F-fine," the guy—Brent—rushes to say. "I'll add it to the calendar."

Dana straightens, offering him her usual saccharine smile. "Thank you." Then, she pivots on her heel and grabs Oliver's hand. "Come on."

Nova and Oliver exchange a disbelieving glance. "Um." Nova tentatively raises a hand. "Isn't Susan's office, like, strictly forbidden for us? Under punishment of death, et cetera?"

"I couldn't care less about the stupid rules right now," Dana informs them. "Susan crossed a line with Oliver. We're not just going to accept this."

Oliver, who has just gotten his stupid tear ducts under control, almost starts crying again. "Dana, I... Thank you."

"What are friends for?"

Friends.

On Oliver's other side, Nova's hand slips into his, linking all three of them together. Oliver squeezes both of them, hard.

Dana leads them up one flight of stairs, then another. When they make it to the third floor, she points up at a small rectangular hatch in the ceiling.

Oliver thinks his brain is melting. "Are you trying to tell me that Susan—a capital A Angel—is living in the attic?"

"No," Dana says, "I'm trying to show you. Will you get that hatch?"

"Who are you?" Oliver whispers but obligingly reaches up and finds the latch that opens it. Folded into the hatch is a ladder that he pulls down, and then they're climbing.

What awaits them above is... an attic. It smells like decades of dust and mothballs and looks like it's been exactly as long since someone's actually been up here. Mountains of antique furniture and paintings tower above them. The one window is so dirty that the faint midday light doesn't reach any of the corners, but if he squints, Oliver thinks he can make out a door at the other end of the room.

"Follow me," Dana says as she heads towards it.

The wooden floorboards creak concerningly under the weight of Nova and Oliver's boots as they trail after her. Dana knocks once at the door before slipping inside.

Oliver isn't sure what he expected to find, but it's not an empty room with one half curtained off by a white... is that a bedsheet?

"Is that a bedsheet?" Nova whispers.

"It's so you don't look directly at Susan," Dana impatiently explains. "Apparently, we'd go blind. Or something." Raising her voice, she calls out: "Susan. It's Dana. We have an appointment."

For a few seconds, there's silence. Then, something bright flickers behind the sheet and a strange scent fills the room—something that smells a bit like a mix of gasoline and petrichor. And then, Susan speaks.

"Dana," Susan says; except it's not just one voice, but what has to be at least ten, their combined volume loud enough to make the floor rumble slightly. "You know how I feel about last-minute changes to the Google calendar."

Oliver is so utterly out of his depth, he can't help the hoarse laugh that leaps from his throat.

He regrets it immediately when the light behind the curtain begins to flicker erratically. "Dana," the choir of voices booms again. "Who is it that you've brought?"

"Two of your In-Betweeners," Dana says, unfazed. "Nova McAlister and Oliver Sallow."

The light grows brighter. "Oliver Sallow. We've been watching you closely."

Oliver doesn't think he has ever hated anything more than his name on an angel's lips. If Susan even has lips, that is. Bloody hell.

It doesn't help that, the longer he listens to it, the more individual voices he can pinpoint. While one sounds like an old man, another sounds like a girl no older than ten. Focusing too much on a single one makes him feel nauseous.

"Uh. Hi," he manages.

Dana takes a small step forward. "If you've been watching him, then surely you know that he finished his case today."

"Yes," the voices agree. "And what a pity. It was fascinating, watching you two. We have to ask: how was it for you?"

Oliver feels sick as he remembers what Dana said the other day: Maybe they wanted to see what would happen.

As if reading his mind, she tells him: "You don't have to answer that." To Susan, she says, "Listen. Assigning Oliver to Finn was unethical, and we all know it."

"Unethical?" Susan echoes. "But humans enjoy re-uniting with loved ones, don't they?"

"Humans," Dana snaps, "don't enjoy reliving trauma to provide some sort of celestial entertainment. You used Oliver. So here's my suggestion: You let him return to Blissby. Alive."

Oliver almost chokes on his own tongue. "Dana, what—"

She cuts him off with a firm gesture of her hand.

Oliver is already bracing himself for some kind of divine fury—for the air to start burning or for his hair to grow snakes or for hail to come striking down, Ten Plagues style.

Instead, Susan only sounds gently bemused. "We have never given anyone a second life."

"First time for everything," Dana says. She's staring the curtain down like it's personally wronged her, her arms crossed in front of her chest. "If you're so curious, then let him go back. It'll be a whole new experience for everyone."

"Mhhh." The light grows dimmer. "Conventions exist for a reason. We can't have everyone come back."

"You didn't have any problem breaking conventions when you made Oliver work with Finn." It's the first time since they've come up here that Nova opens her mouth to speak. She looks terrified, her voice smaller than it usually is, but her chin is raised. "How do you think the other In-Betweeners would react if they found out that you're just toying with us like we're rats in a lab? And if they told their assignees in turn? I'm sure your heavenly reputation would take a bit of a blow if people found out you intentionally create drama in our lives like you're watching Love Island."

Oliver can't seem to close his mouth. Nova squeezes his hand again, and all he can do is try not to crush her fingers in turn.

Susan's voice grows deeper. "Is that a threat, Nova McAlister?"

"I believe it's called a hypothetical."

"Here's another, hypothetical" Dana adds. "If you don't let Oliver go back, I'm quitting."

Oliver draws in a sharp breath. Behind the curtain, the light gives a sudden flare. "What?"

"You heard me." Dana says. "You know I'm the best mentor you have right now, Susan. I've initiated more people in the last month than Brent has in a year."

"This is your deal then?" Susan asks. Oliver can pick up on no real emotion in the choir of voices, but something about the electric crackle in the air and the sudden smell of sulphur tells him the angel isn't pleased. "He gets brought back to life, and in turn you don't quit?"

"Oliver gets brought back to life and gets his motorcycle back," Dana corrects. "Luisa."

"Lucretia," Oliver murmurs.

"Yeah, that."

"A life and a motorcycle. Anything else?"

"Nova gets promoted to mentor," Dana jumps to add. "If she wants, that is."

Eyes wide, Nova nods.

The light behind the curtain has grown eerily still. "We have never seen a rebellion over something as petty as this. How curious." A pause. "How very human."

It seems like something is going to follow, but the angel lets the last word hang in the air. It sounds almost delighted. Oliver doesn't know what to make of it when the room falls suddenly dark, the light gone. They're obviously dismissed.

As if in a trance, he follows Dana and Nova downstairs. It's only once they've made it down the ladder and the hatch is securely closed that Oliver turns to look at both of them.

Squinting up at the hatch, Nova questions: "Did I hallucinate, or did we actually just fight an angel?"

"You did," Oliver says, disbelieving. He has a thousand things he wants to say, but they all get stuck in his throat. For lack of anything better, he pulls both of them into a hug and says, with every ounce of sincerity he has: "I don't know what I did to deserve you two."

"Die," Dana says, muffled into his blouse. She leans back slightly, sobering. "It might not change anything."

"I know. But... thank you for trying."

"Want to go sit on the cliffs and pretend to be in King Lear?"

He breathes a wet laugh. "I would love nothing more."

***

That afternoon, there are three shapes sitting on the cliffs, white and black hair blowing behind them like ribbons, heads bent close together. From afar, Oliver knows, they look indistinguishable—a strange, three-headed creature looking out at the sea.

No one has ever fought for him like these two have. Maybe that is because, other than Finn and his family, he has never let anyone get as close to him as them. Apparently, all it took was a death, a few weeks of constant nagging, and three piercings in a storage room to get him to open up.

No matter what happens from here, Oliver knows that he will at least have had this: a few more months with the boy he loves, a last glimpse at the family he briefly had, a friendship found in the unlikeliest of places.

It doesn't matter that the three of them are in a liminal space, or that, one way or another, their paths will part. If there's one thing he's learned, it's this: just because things are temporary, doesn't mean they're any less meaningful.

They're just temporary.

**************************

happy friday!

i hope you enjoyed your first (and last lol) encounter with susan. was this what you expected the angel to be like? 👀

also: what are your predictions after this chapter!! i would love to hear :)

today's song is afterlife by nothing but thieves