It's in the falling.

That's when it happens, when all those important questions get asked and you have seconds to answer them as truthfully as possible – did you live well? Did you help others? Did you live up to your potential? Are you, or have you ever been, content with the life you've had thus far?

And when your foot gets caught between forward and left behind, twisting your ankle and causing you to tip sideways, seeming to topple to the ground in slow-motion… that's when those questions pop up, annoying and profound – as most lessons are – and you try to answer them.

You try to answer and be as concise as possible… right before the world goes black.

Did you live well?

I certainly tried to. I think so.

Did you help others?

I've held open doors. I give to the Red Cross. I call my parents every Sunday. Is that what you mean?

Did you live up to your potential?

Maybe. I honestly don't know…

Are you, or have you ever been, content with the life you've had thus far?

…Mostly. I think. No one can be content all the time, you know.

It's in the falling.

And right before Spencer Carlin's world ended, she just wasn't sure if her answers were as good as she wanted them to be.

///

"Do you know why you are here?"

"Excuse me?"

"Must I always talk slowly with you new people?"

"I don't know. Must you always talk like an ass, too?"

"Now, now, everyone… calm down…"

She had been here for approximately five days.

The first day, well, she didn't say much. And she didn't feel much either. In fact, on that first day, Spencer Carlin wasn't sure of a damn thing.

Once someone actually said the words, her first coherent thought was 'it's not white or full of clouds, it's just… a room'.

On the second day, she got a little mad. She felt ripped off somehow, like when you stay up all night for a big sale on Black Friday and some lady just steps in front of you, taking that strapless blue dress – Spencer felt like all she had worked herself up for was just snatched away, out of her control.

The third day found her quiet again, but for much different reasons than her initial first-day stupor.

She had to sit back and accept that her life – for all intents and purposes – was over back on Earth.

She had died.

And she had died stepping off a subway car, in New York and in the middle of November, by getting her heel caught in a crack and smacking her head against cold concrete. It was almost immediate, the blow knocking loose valuable wires in her brain and blood came pouring out of her nose.

A few twitches later and she was in a coma. A few more twitches and she was dead.

Just like that… Spencer Carlin ceased to exist.

But not really. She ceased to exist on Earth, but total disappearance from the universe? Nope, not by a long shot.

And the fourth day finally found her asking questions.

What am I? Why are we in this room? We have a perfectly good coffee maker and, yet, we have no sugar or cream… what is that about?

"Calm down? Calm down?! I seem to recall when I first got here—"

"When was that? A billion years ago?"

"Spencer, please, stop antagonizing him…"

"Hey, he started it!"

"C'mon guys, where's your holiday spirit? Just chill out…"

"Yes, listen to Michael, just relax. We are all getting a little heated here… So, let's all take a deep breath…" And Gabe proceeds to inhale and exhale like he is teaching a Lamaze class.

Spencer follows along, but continues to gaze coolly at Raphael – who, in turn, keeps glaring at her in between each breath taken.

"Now, to the business at hand, Spencer… do you know why you are here?"

"Because… I'm dead?"

"Well, yes, technically – but I mean in the grand scheme of things?"

"Listen, Gabe, I am processing this… odd turn of events the best that I can, but so far I've just seen this room and you three. If there is something more 'grand' than this, I'd love to know about it. Because right now, Heaven is about as great as a day at the office."

"I cannot believe that she is being chosen for this task!"

"Raphael, please—"

"Aww, is God downsizing this year? Did you get a pink slip in the mail?"

"You insolent little—"

"Alright, that's enough!"

Michael's bellow is pretty impressive and everyone seems to shrink in front of it, even Spencer herself.

She crosses her arms. Raphael taps his foot angrily. Gabe nods a 'thank you' to Michael.

"Spencer, you are being given a chance to reach true fulfillment and ever-lasting peace for your soul, which is why you are here today. It is a great honor to have the opportunity to save someone from a life of torment and destruction. Normally, as the year comes to a close, one of us is sent to Earth and we assist those in need—"

"Normally, it is I chosen to perform such a task."

"Yes, Raphael, we all know this…"

"…So, then, why choose me?"

"God works in mysterious ways, Spencer."

"That is pretty evident by the circumstances I find myself in right this second."

That comment makes Gabe chuckle and Spencer slides a grin the man's way.

Michael can be a bit intimidating and Raphael is, for lack of a better description, a little bit like a bitchy queen – all huff and puff and hand gestures.

But Gabe is all heart and soft smiles and Spencer – sometimes – sees shades of her father in Gabe.

And it makes her heart ache as much as it makes it swell.

And there she goes again, thinking of her parents… wishing she could see them or let them know she is alright, that there is a heaven after all… and it is some boardroom in the sky, what a cosmic let-down…

"Once you do this, then the true realm of God's glory will be opened to you and you shall spend eternity in the garden – free from disease, free from desire, free from worry—"

"Okay, I get it. It's Disneyland."

"They stole the idea from us, you know?"

"Gabe, don't encourage her…"

"Sorry, Michael."

"Alright, so… let me get this straight… I go to Earth and fix someone's screwed up life and then I get to hang out in a garden for eternity? I mean, is that it?"

"…Well, yes."

Gabe nods happily and Michael gives her the thumbs-up sign and Raphael rolls his eyes, as he tends to do quite often. Spencer tries to picture it – a big and lush field full of every kind of flower… some white-haired guy in a robe, talking about how long it actually took to create the mountains and the canyons… harps and wings and such…

Don't know if that is any more interesting than this place. Sounds like a fabric softener commercial. But, you know, with God… not that Snuggles bear…

"Shouldn't I be in Hell?" Spencer suddenly asks and Raphael allows a dangerous smirk to pop up on his face.

"I think so. I think they made a mistake with you."

"Raphael…"

"Why would you even think that, Spencer?" Gabe questions.

"Well, I am a lapsed Catholic, haven't been to mass in forever. And I'm gay."

"Minor details in the grand scheme of things."

"This 'grand scheme' should really be pushed on Earth, you know… would save people a lot of heartache."

"Then how would anyone learn?" Gabe poses hypothetically.

"Sometimes the best lessons are those learned by getting hurt." Michael says in that sage-tone of his and Spencer sighs heavily.

And there she goes again, thinking of her own struggles back on Earth. She remembers those hard days in her youth, realizing she was different than other girls and the backlash she had to endure – the teasing, the insults, the taunting – and, at the time, it most definitely didn't feel like a good lesson to learn.

I just felt alone. And scared.

And there was no angel telling her it would be okay or that it would get any better.

It would have been nice if God had let her in on this 'grand scheme' at the age of sixteen, when she really needed to hear about it.

"So, everything settled then?" Raphael asks in a bored manner.

"You ready, Spencer?"

And she looks at all three of them – Michael in his jeans and sweatshirt and scuffed-up sneakers… Gabe in his suit and with a rather jolly-looking Santa Claus tie… Raphael in a tight sweater of the brightest blue and nice slacks – and she wonders, once more, how she ended up here – thrust into the job of angel.

Well, when you do something, Spencer Carlin… you go all the way, don't you?

"As ready as I'll ever be. So, who am I helping?"

"Don't worry. You'll know."

"Wait, what do you—"

///

They let her keep her name.

And her face, her hair… basically they let her keep almost everything – from the way her laugh sounds to the fact that her voice is rough first thing in the morning…

As she found out, time had moved on at a much faster rate than how it felt up in the Heavenly offices.

For Spencer it was five days, whereas – on Earth – years and years had passed. The world was essentially the same as when she left it, though – there were still wars being fought and issues with the government and reality television taking over every station.

And Spencer did what any person might do when returned to the land of the living - she ignored her reason for being there and tried to find her family.

But when she kept calling the numbers she remembered and couldn't ever get through – busy signals or disconnection messages every single time - Spencer realized that you can never go home again.

Especially when God is watching you. All very Big Brother of you, up in that garden…

They gave her an apartment, a nice one with all the amenities – stainless steel appliances and granite countertops and a large television in her spacious living room.

They had keys to a car laid out on a desk and a day-planner with important information highlighted – such as what she does for a living (assistant to the assistant… to the assistant at some law-firm… so, a secretary I think) and the fact that she is in California (never got the chance to go there when I was alive, should be a nice change in scenery).

And marked in bold letters, firm handwriting on the twenty-sixth of November, are the words:

"Leaving Putnam & Barnes! Going to Davies, Davies & Lewis! New job!"

She blows out a breath and walks to the window of her new home, the traffic moving below and the sound of the Pacific ocean in the distance.

And Spencer cannot even begin to fathom how this will all play out.

Hope for the best, expect the worst… right?

///

She works from eight in the morning until six or seven in the evening, fetching coffee and pulling up files and checking paper-work for typos and running to the library and so on and so forth.

And if Spencer Carlin ever gave a damn about the inner workings of the world of lawyers, well this would be a dream come true.

But she doesn't care. Not in the slightest.

And she is no closer to finding out who it is she is meant to help out either.

She has been here, in California and in this job and in this false life, for a week and a half and not a single solitary clue as to her target.

I'd ask for a sign, but I know who is up there – you guys are pointless, you know? I hope you can me, Raphael… you are pointless!

Picking on the angels from afar causes her to grin, but it does not solve anything.

She's met pretty much everyone who works here at Davies, Davies & Lewis – from Cory in the mailroom to Chelsea Lewis (the 'Lewis' part of this establishment) to the doorman named Irving.

She knows more about the lives of these people than she ever knew about her own mother or father – she knows about Ralph's brother who died in Vietnam and she knows about Sandra's trips to Costa Rica and she knows about how every temp worker here tries to run off with the lime green stapler… and how they all fail.

Spencer Carlin is a fount of knowledge about all of them.

But none of it matters.

Because none of them are 'the one' – that lost soul, that wounded bird… that ticket to perpetual bliss that I am being forced to seek out…

And what annoys her most of all is the fact that she now has a routine.

Spencer Carlin, an angel brought back to Earth, has a mundane routine like every other person.

If I could fly, this would be so much cooler. Where the hell are my wings, eh? Talk about getting rid of that commute every day…

But no, no wings for the newbie – just a lame guidebook on 'How To Be An Angel Among the Living' – which she has read front to back and now uses as a way to kill offending spiders.

"C'mon guys, cut me some slack… just a name? Just a freakin' hint?" Spencer asks aloud, propped up in her nice bed while listening to her nice stereo system.

And she doesn't hear a response.

And she hopes they are watching her right now, because she is giving them the finger.

///

Ashley Davies.

Spencer has only caught her in glimpses, a flash of brown hair and eyes hidden by sunglasses as she breezes through the hallways.

The other Davies, one Raife Davies, has been met twice so far.

He is seems pleasant enough – sometimes jovial, sometimes serious – but supposedly cracks the whip hard and Spencer is glad to not be the assistant to the assistant to the… she is glad to not be his secretary.

She mostly works for Chelsea and that suits Spencer just fine.

The woman is nice and does lots of pro-bono work on the side, has really interesting artwork up in her office – Chelsea is the kind of woman that Spencer would have been friends with in her 'old' life.

So, it is surprising when Chelsea kind of loans her out to Ashley one afternoon.

"Look, she really has poor taste in assistants and this case is a big deal to… listen, can you keep a secret, Spencer?"

And Spencer just nods her head in the affirmative, all at once curious about this rare show of gossiping from Chelsea and then not truly caring, just going along with her fake job in her fake existence.

"This is Ashley's last shot, okay? She is a good lawyer, she really is – if she is motivated. But her father really comes down hard on her and she tends to crack under the pressure… and screws cases up. He's threatened to give her the boot this time and I am going to try to prevent that. And that's where you come in, alright? Help her out in any way you can… for as long as you need to."

And like a light switch finally being flipped, Spencer Carlin finds the first true smile grace her lips since her return to Earth and all its unavoidable drama and all its iridescent charm.

"You've got it."

Ashley Davies, eh? She's the one, isn't she? That's a sign… right?

///

Ashley Davies is a whirlwind, indifferent one second and impassioned the next.

Her desk is an absolute mess and her files are haphazardly thrown about, making Spencer wonder if the woman decided to hire a monkey as her last assistant.

She doesn't listen to anything that anyone says – not at all.

If you suggest one thing, she'll do the opposite. If you agree with her, she changes her mind.

Spencer even doubts the woman's grip on reality when she goes off on a tangent about Chinese take-out and a stain on her thousand-dollar shoes… in the middle of a conference call with a potential client.

And, of course, she is stunning. Like totally gorgeous… you know, for a crazy person.

Spencer Carlin was as gay as the day was long back in her 'old' life.

She tried to hide it, but couldn't. And she took the hits until she could move away from that small town in Ohio, until she could move to the city and join the ranks of all those that came before her – Spencer ran away from suburban shackles and found a new home in her own sexuality.

And being an angel hasn't altered that one bit.

She is as still gay as the day is long.

And Ashley Davies is very nice to look at, when you tune out the ranting the woman does on a daily basis or the biting comments she makes toward everyone – Spencer included.

The way Ashley's hair likes to fall, curls catching onto the dying of the sun and over one eye… or the slant of Ashley's neck, smooth and tanned as she leans back in her leather chair…

"Carlin? Hello? Earth to Carlin?"

"Oh, umm, sorry. Drifted off there."

"I don't pay you to 'drift off'. Got it?"

"Yea, I got it."

But Spencer rolls her eyes and taps her pen against the notepad in her lap and waits for Ashley to continue her diatribe.

She glances at her watch and then looks around quizzically.

It is after seven. Like… way after seven…

And she looks at Ashley again, who seems to be lost in her own thoughts, and Spencer rolls her eyes.

Again.

She's been working with Ashley for the past week, waiting for that pivotal moment where she will have to swoop in and save the woman – but, frankly, Spencer doesn't know how to save someone from their own rudeness or spoiled nature.

I kind of thought it would be more serious. Maybe I was wrong… maybe she's not it…

When the phone rings, it seems to make them both jump and Ashley shoots Spencer a look like it is her fault.

Yea, I'm starting to think she is not it. Just an annoyingly beautiful lady who is a bit of a whack-job, that's all she is.

And Spencer tunes out the fight that Ashley Davies is apparently having over the phone lines, watching the way those brown eyes light up with indignation and anger – wondering what they might look like if they were ever happy or amused…

"Get out. Now."

The words are directed at Spencer and quite coldly.

So, she does as told – and happily, I might add – and leaves the office.

She tosses her notepad down and grabs her coat, fully intending to walk out and get something to eat and then go home to her awesome bed.

But something stops her – well, a combination of things really – and Spencer is frozen in an empty law-firm on a Thursday night.

First, she hears what sounds a lot like crying on the other side of that door she just walked out of.

Secondly, the sound of that crying makes Spencer's chest feel tight and she grips her jacket tightly in her hands – her body stuck in between going and staying.

And when Ashley barrels out of the office, seeing no one and nothing, running down the hall and into the stairwell…

…Spencer drops her coat and goes running after the woman, as if this is the very thing she was born to do.

Or died to do, as the case may be.

By the time she catches up to Ashley Davies, the woman is flinging herself over the edge of this rather tall building they all work in and Spencer is reaching out as fast as she can – because this is no longer a game and this is what she is here to do… she is here to save Ashley Davies.

And damn it all, I am going to. You are not dying on my watch, Davies!

Her hand finds a wrist and she pulls up with everything she has (which must be a lot, she feels as light as a feather) and Ashley is back on the roof as suddenly as she was off of it.

Ashley is shaking violently now, those brown eyes wide and shimmering with still-falling tears.

And Spencer experiences the ultimate rush that is saving a life as she watches Ashley Davies promptly pass out from shock.

And even though she knows that this is just the first step, Spencer Carlin feels a sense of purpose that she just didn't have in that 'old' life.

And it feels good.

Did you live well? Did you help others?

Maybe not then, but I intend to now. Does that count?

///

TBC