Welcome!
Everything is fine.
Nancy blinked as she read the words.
Her brow furrowed very, very slightly. The faint glimmer of recognition evaporated, and she smiled.
She couldn't clearly remember the moment of her death, but the person handling her intake assured her it had been during the act of saving someone: in this case, a precocious six-year-old who would grow up to make a life-saving scientific breakthrough. Nancy smiled and nodded. That rang true. The greatest-hits recap of her life, saving people in difficult situations and helping them out, did give her a bit of a warm glow, something she definitely needed.
She couldn't quite remember why, but she did.
The neighborhood was placid, peaceful, bright and cheerful under a startlingly blue sky. Her house boasted a room full of unsolved cold cases, and she needed only to request any equipment or information she needed to work on them. Her bed was a cozy nest of plush pillows and overstuffed blankets. It was wonderful.
"Bess and George?"
"Are in another neighborhood." Her guide gestured toward the train station. "Which you're welcome to visit at your leisure, of course."
Nancy nodded. "It's perfect."
Her guide held up a single finger. "Nearly. I have one last introduction to make, but it'll have to wait until after the new-resident mixer tonight."
Nancy found the perfect cocktail dress in her closet, and had to smile at the nervous butterflies in her stomach. She had nothing to be anxious about; after all, the worst that could happen… already had. She was on the other side of it.
She had died doing what she loved. What more could she ask for?
The first shock of the evening was the palatial mansion on the edge of the neighborhood, complete with a—Nancy had to admit it, though it felt faintly shocking—tacky swan fountain out front and liveried butlers—were they automatons, similar to Janet, or was servitude somehow part of the neighborhood's plan?—ushered guests out of lavishly appointed limousines and directed them to the party.
Nancy didn't feel particularly upset that she hadn't been issued a limo. Everything was within walking distance, after all. It was just… strange.
The shock was complete when the hostess turned and shot a dazzling smile in Nancy's direction, one with a wicked edge.
Brenda. Fucking. Carlton.
While she had discovered she couldn't speak profanity, and that in itself seemed familiar too, the thought was loud enough. Brenda… how?
Maybe her thoughts were obvious, because Brenda simpered as she crossed to Nancy. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see you here," Brenda crooned. "We both did so much to help humanity, after all."
Nancy forced a smile. "Of course."
Somehow, all Nancy's excitement was swallowed in that instant. She moved through the party, trying to shake it off, but she was in a sea of strangers, and none seemed particularly interesting. Their conversations were beyond her: overly intellectual, pretentious, or both. She was deeply lonely for anyone she loved, and watching Brenda throw her head back to laugh uproariously at something she couldn't begin to understand, clapping her hand to the diamond necklaces dripping down the front of her dress… it was just too much.
Nancy didn't have to make any excuses for leaving early; no one had particularly noticed her presence, not after Brenda's brief greeting. She just drifted away, stopping to take her shoes off at the edge of the plush lawn, only to find that the dying grass at the edge had a definite interest in bloodying her bare feet.
Maybe it was a glitch. Maybe the environment was just reacting to her rapidly souring mood.
Her house… it was definitely lovely and cozy, but compared to the dazzling gold and ivory monstrosity of Brenda's mansion, it had definitely lost something. Nancy sighed as she opened the door and walked through.
The rest of her life. She snickered. The endless stretch of her afterlife.
Her guide arrived before Nancy had even been able to change out of her cocktail dress. "Finally. Sorry for the delay. Nancy, your soulmate has arrived."
Nancy's eyes widened.
"Forgot to mention that during the orientation. The one person who is your perfect counterpart, who is meant to share your existence in complete bliss and total harmony with you, is right outside. Are you ready?"
Nancy had been feeling pretty bad, but she felt incredibly excited at those words. So he—
Wasn't Ned.
Another man walked in, a wide grin on his face.
Nancy sucked in a rapid, startled gasp of a breath as her heart fell. "This is the Bad Place," she realized.
--
Nancy sat up in bed, groggy and disoriented, then immediately slumped back down to the pillow, groaning at the instant nauseated pounding. Too many drinks. She'd lost count of the shots. From the other room, she could hear Bess snoring.
A girls' night out had seemed like the perfect solution. Nancy needed to vent about what had happened, and Bess and George had listened, nodded, and occasionally shouted their encouragement and outrage. Cookie dough had been consumed by the spoonful, and then they had torn through a bag of chips to counteract the sweetness, and by then the liquor had been flowing.
"I don't miss him," she remembered slurring. "I don't. We're done."
But, and her heart—and stomach—lurched sickeningly as she remembered—she had expected Ned to walk through that door. Because if there was a Good Place, that was the only option.
He was her soulmate. She could talk shit all she wanted, but Ned was her soulmate.
It took ten minutes, and she was interrupted by a sudden urgent trip to the bathroom to void her stomach, but she finally found her phone wedged between two couch cushions.
Two-fifteen in the morning. Definitely too early for this. Too early for anything.
But her pride had evaporated, leaving only the sorrow beneath the outrage, the pain beneath the bluster. She could only hope she hadn't waited too long.
Her heart rose with every ring, then sank sickeningly as the call flipped to voicemail. They had both said some hurtful things, and Ned was probably deep asleep. She hoped not while deep inside some flirty co-ed, but even if he were, well.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she babbled after his greeting finished playing. "I love you, I'm sorry for everything I said, I miss you—"
Her apology was interrupted by insistent beeps. Ned was returning her call.
"Hey—"
"Hey."
"I—are you drunk?"
"No," Ned said, defensively. "Maybe."
"Oh God, me too. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Me too," Ned sighed. "Probably shouldn't tell you I miss you so damn much."
"I just had a nightmare. Someone said my soulmate was about to walk in. And then he wasn't you."
Ned chuckled. "Is that how you think of me?"
"Subconsciously, I guess so. Even when I'm so drunk and mad at you that I literally can't see straight."
"Yeah, I am way more messed up than you," Ned laughed. "Where are you? We need to make up."
"Your place," she replied, looking around for her shoes and then clutching her head when it swam.
"You're already at my place? Fuckin sweet. Cabbie!"
Nancy laughed. "I'll meet you there, if you don't fall asleep and wake up in an ice bath minus a kidney."
"Brr," Ned shuddered. "That'll sober me up."
Nancy waited outside; she didn't want to know whether she would find a hastily discarded thong tucked into his couch cushions, or worse. When he showed up, he was disheveled, but devastatingly so. His hair was rumpled, his strong jaw bore a shadow of stubble, and his already gorgeous eyes were low-lashed and smoldering. It was a look that could make a startled person come with no warning.
And Nancy, well… her defenses were already down.
"I'm sorry." His voice was low, and made her knees weak.
"I am," she said, shaking her head. "I didn't mean it."
"Me either," he said, and he swept her into a kiss that tasted of rum and soda, whiskey and bite, desperation and need. She gripped his collar, returning the kiss just as hard, and when they parted she realized he had her pressed against the front door of his apartment. And that every part of him had meant they needed to make up.
"Let's get inside before you get my pants off," she panted.
He grinned. "Sounds tricky, but I'm up for a challenge."
"I know you are," she told his erection, then glanced up to see him fumbling his keys out.
Probably, she mused an hour later, the making-up had technically happened while he'd had her bent over the arm of his couch, as she had muffled her whimpers and sobs into the cushion, unable to damn herself over the relieved tears. The forgiving had been in bed, after they had discarded the rest of their clothes down the hallway and held each other tight, apologies muffled against quivering flesh and distilled into strokes of gentling fingertips. By the time he let her come again, she was begging for it, her back bowed and her head tossed back, and she sobbed out a cry of relief as the tension finally broke. He lasted a few more minutes, groaning as her climax tightened her inner muscles around him, and she held him tight once he had relaxed.
"So, who's your anti-soulmate, then?" He stroked her hair, his voice already gravelly from exhaustion.
She snickered. "You don't want to know." Considering, she gazed up at the ceiling.
"Frank Hardy."
She shuddered. "How did you know?"
"Because he's my anti-soulmate."
Nancy dissolved into laughter. "I realized I was in hell," she told him, wiping a few happy tears away. "I'd died and I was in hell. But it would have been bearable if you'd walked in."
"I'm flattered. I think."
"Yes. You should be." She moved to gaze into his eyes. "Let's never do that again."
He nodded, catching a lock of hair between his fingers and stroking it gently. "The only hell is without you."
"And I've tasted enough of it." She drew him down to her. "I'm nowhere near perfect, but I feel closer with you."
He kissed her, long and sweet, with such intensity that she actually blushed. "Just know that I'd come for you, Eurydice."
"I love where your head's at, but think more Good Place."
Ned considered. "I'm Jason, right."
Nancy laughed. "So I'm Tahani?"
He shook his head. "You're mine," he said, just before he kissed her again.
She couldn't disagree.