Apotheosis

Hi there, how are ya? Been a long time.
Seems like we’ve come a long way.
My but we learn so slow
And heroes they come and they go
And leave us behind, as if we’re supposed to know why.

Becca groaned, her shoulders aching terribly. It was a difficult autopsy, but her job in the New York City Police Department forensics unit was worth it. She was finally following her dream. The other members of the unit were kind to her, if only because they had heard of her strange condition a few years back. They still called her the Miracle Woman. The one who went through the gates of Heaven and came through the other side alive and kicking.

She hated that nickname. Hated with with every fiber of her being. She wasn’t just the Miracle Woman. She was Rebecca Sidler. Grand-daughter to Holocaust survivors. Great-grand daughter to those who didn’t make it. She felt strange knowing that she’d never be forgotten by the dead. Apart from the teeny-tiny apartment she had to share with a couple of other people, living in the city wasn’t so bad. If only she wasn’t so lonely.

Oh, her roommates often tried to set her up with their cousin’s friend or some nice guy they met at Starbucks, but it really wasn’t the same. Not when you’ve been to Hell and back and seen all the things Becca had seen. Known how close the universe came to ending and now it was all stopped by some children’s book characters and a two-thousand year old Roman emperor.

It’s not like anyone would believe her anyway.

One night, coming home from work, she trotted up the steps as she always did, before discovering that someone was waiting on the stoop. She quickly pulled out her pepper spray, she didn’t think she’d need her gun, and aimed it squarely at the stranger’s head.

“My dear, I hardly think all that will be neccessary for me.”

Becca grinned widely.

Why do we give up our hearts to the past?
And why must we grow up so fast?
And all you wishing well fools with your fortunes.
Someone should send you a rose.
‘With love from a friend. Nice to hear from you again.’

Claudius has managed to make Hell more effecient for the souls of the After who have inadvertently chosen to be there. He is turning into quite the little beaureaucrat. Amazing for the man who once believed the Roman Empire was the worst idea ever in the history of mankind.

He is, by no means, a prisoner in Hell. He may roam wherever he wishes among the nine circles, but he cannot find his way out. His way to the nodes is blocked by Lucifer’s power.

In his time in Hell, he has largely forgotten his time as a Theo. This happens a lot in the devillish realm. One often forgets why they were there in the first place. All he remembers is that he slighted Lucifer somehow, and now he was being punished.

Claudius shrugs slightly. He doesn’t remember what happened. But there are visigial memories. Some small inklings of his life before. One evening, after Claudius makes sure everyone who needs to be in the boiling hot oil is in the boiling hot hot, discovers a book. The book appears to be a memoir of someone’s life. It came, if one were to believe the neat hand-written script on the book’s inside cover, from someone Claudius used to know. Claudius opens the book and begins to read.

The book is I, Claudius.

And the storybook comes to a close.
Gone are the ribbons and bows.
Things to remember, places to go.

The Trio sit comfortably in the Gryffindor Common Room. It is late in the evening, and most of the other students have gone to bed.

“I still can’t believe it all,” Hermione says, holding on tightly to a copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. “We’re all part of a vast book series and we’re only here before so many people believe in us.”

“It’s true, though. And no matter what happens, we’ll be together,” Harry grins.

“You mean, even if something happens to us in the books, we’d still exist in the After?” Ron asks.

“That’s true. Look at Watson. If you judge his age from when the Holmes books were published, he should have been dead by now. But he isn’t. He’s thriving.” Hermione says, grinning.

“So, when does the next book come out?” Ron says.

“Sometimes next year, I think,” Harry replies.

“I can’t wait to see what she’s cooked up for us this time,” Ron says. “Hey, let’s drop by!”

“Ron, we can’t just drop by for a visit! It doesn’t work that way!” Harry exclaims, grinning.

“Why not?” Ron frowns. “Or maybe we could sneak inside her house and find that mysterious notebook of hers, you know, the one where she keeps all of her information about us!”

“Oh, Ron! Don’t be so daft!” Hermione laughs. “She’d never allow for that...”

“Or we could haunt her,” Ron says.

“We’re Theos, not ghosts!” Harry says.

“Oooooooh, I am Ron Weasley...tell me if I fall in love this year....ooooooohh!”

“Ron!” Hermione blushes.

“What?” Ron asks innocently.

Harry grins, enjoying this small pleasure of being with friends better than anything else in his life at that very moment. No matter what happens to them in the books, their futures as Theos are set forever in the After. Not even Voldemort could take that away from them. As long as someone somewhere is reading a Harry Potter book, they will exist. And Harry hopes they’ll exist for a very very long time.

THE END

Posted by Michelle at November 29, 2002 8:28 AM