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Author's Note: continuation of this chapter of an ongoing story. not sure if the edit to the first chapter got anyone's attention, and i wouldn't want any of the two of you following along to miss anything.

We Followed Roger down the street away from the scene of the accident. Our recently desceased companion looked somewhat awkward and kept quiet as we walked. "So, what exactly is 'the hard way,' anyway?" I asked the resident Reaper.

"You'll see," he sounded distracted as he slowly turned his head back and forth, looking up at the buildings on all sides of us.

"What's the matter, don't get to see the city often?" I asked, a bit curious about the furrowed brow and quiet nature of the boy who had, until recently, been all smiles and jokes of questionable taste.

"Do you know how often someone dies in the average city? Or how many cities there are in the world? Or what those two numbers mean for the number of times I have to do my job in the middle of a four-car pile-up?"

"Okay, fair enough," I conceided. As soon as I did he stopped shortly, turned on his heel, and darted across the middle of the street. I turned to follow, only to notice the bus coming a minute too late. I cringed, and then after a short pause, opened my eyes, relaxed and heaved a sigh. After the bus had finished passing through me, I looked over my shoulder at our recent companion, "Twice in one day. I never in my life would've seen that happening."

He gave me a smirk as he followed me through traffic, literally, up to the doors of a very large, fancy looking building. Roger walked right through the door, again, literally, and we did in kind. He took us to the elevators, of what looked like a very expensive hotel, and as we stood, I assumed waiting for one, I looked at him, "What, do you keep a room here or something?"

He rolled his eyes, "Yeah, they keep the penthouse open for me." As he talked an elivator arrived and someone exited it, walked through me and toward the entrance of the building. As he did, Roger entered the elevator and we both followed.

"Why can't you just tell us where we're going? I'm pretty sure it won't kill you." He looked at me out of the corner of his eye for a moment and I gave him a small grin. He smirked and shook his head slightly as he shook with a weak chuckle.

"We're going to the thirteenth floor," he answered. I looked at the rows of buttons next to the closing doors, to discover the labels on them progressed from twelve straight to fourteen. I reached to press the button for the fourteenth floor, but as my finger passed through the button, Roger spoke up again, "I said thirteen, not fourteen."

The elevator started to rise, i looked at him, "There is no thirteen. This is one of those superstitious buildings with 'no thirteenth floor.'"

"Would you just let me do my job?" he looked at me critically. I held up my hands in surrender and leaned against one wall of the elevator as it rose. It occured to me that being alone in a cramped cube with two strangers while elevator music pipes through the cieling could be considered hell.

I watched the numbers tick away on the LCD display aboe the elevator buttons as our little box rose, 10, 11, 12, 13. I blinked as the elevator halted and the bell dinged lightly. "But..." I tried weakly as the doors began to open, but didn't get any further. From the other side of the doors, bright pure white light shone into our little box, and the terrible music slowly faded to silence.

"Okay, everybody out," I heard Roger's voice and walked toward the light. Outside of the elevator the light was no less oppresive, but was less directed, and i could see that we were surrounded by billowing clouds on all sides. The man from the crash walked slowly passed me, staring at something, and I followed his gaze. He seemed to be staring straight into the source of the blinding light, which I could see through squinted eyes lay behind a pair of giant metal gates. As the man approached they swung open and he seemed to become enveloped in the light.

"I swear, nine out of ten times, it's clouds and a bright light. I always thought heaven was supposed to be paradise, not the source of eye cancer." I turned to see Roger standing next to me shaking his head.

"Heaven?" I looked at him quizzically.

"Yeah, remember how I told you people decide where they go when they die? They also decide what it looks like. somehow the good place is always just blinding white. Why is it that everyone finds an eternity of migrane inducing light any better than some phisical torture involving pointy objects and fire?" I shrugged, a bit confused, and then noticed the light beginning to fade.

I turned back to the pearly gates only to see the mist and clouds swirling together, collecting at the light that was quickly imploding into itself. After about thrity seconds of what probably would have passed for the best lighting effect in hollywood, it was all gone, and we were once again standing in the middle of the patchwork city of the dead. "Much better," he said with a grin.

"That was heaven?" I looked at him weakly.

"One man's vision of Heaven. Death is an extension of life, as such one's desitination in the afterlife is the culmination of all one's opinions, beliefs and personality in life. Dead people see what they want to see. And the afterlife is what people want it to be." I stared at him stupidly, "Does your eye hurt?"

I raised an eyebrow, "No..."

"You were punched in the eye with a rock bigger than your socket," he reminded me. I raised a hand toward my eye as I remembered the Pharoa with an attitude problem. Roger turned me toward a nearby window, and the shiner that should have probably encompassed part of my cheek and swolen my eye closed was nowhere to be seen.

"So, you don't get to whine the next time someone slugs you. Now follow me, you'll need a place to stay," he began to stroll down the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets. He looked over his shoulder with a grin, "You can bunk with me, I always wanted a roommate."