1 In Heaven's Office

The office was almost too white, with the clean and sterile feel of a hospital room. Charles sat down on the plush white sofa and crossed his legs, looking at Lilah, who had been Gabriel's secretary for almost 1,300 years. Not a single dark hair was out of place, and her lush red lips were pursed as she wrote something down in the calendar. Of course, it was understood that everyone here looked perfectly groomed and immaculate, always ready, always waiting. For what? Charles was soon going to find out.

There was a soft buzz, and Lilah smiled up at him. "Gabriel is ready for you now, Charles."

"Thanks, Lilah." He got up, giving her a smile which made her blush as he walked past her desk and into the office, feeling her eyes boring into his back. Inside his equally immaculate office, Gabriel was frowning down at the massive schedule dominating his desk, distractedly waving Charles in. Closing the door behind him, he adjusted his suit and walked over, taking a seat in one of the two chairs in front of Gabriel's desk.

He remained silent until Gabriel finally put aside the schedule, then smiled at him. "How's it going, Charlie?"

"Bored." Charles seldom had the need to hide anything from Gabriel. "I'm starting to think I prefer Earth to here, if you can believe that."

Gabriel chuckled. "Don't let top management hear you say that." He took off his black-rimmed glasses, wiping them with a soft piece of muslin. "How are your assignments? I really liked the one with the suicidal teenager, I thought that was a lost cause. But you turned the whole thing around."

Charles shrugged it off modestly. "She was a lovely girl, she was just misguided. Just wanted someone to listen to her, to make her feel like she was loved."

Gabriel nodded seriously. "You're good at that, Charlie. To be honest, not many of us can do what you do. It's your...empathy, I think. It's a lot stronger than the others."

Looking down at his nails, Charles tried to ignore the deep flush warming his face. "It's nothing, really."

"No, Charlie. It's not 'nothing'. Your gift with empathy, and your gift with music...it's a rare combination." Gabriel was looking seriously at him now, and Charles pretended to be interested in the large metal paperweight in front of him. "In fact, it makes you the perfect candidate to help this next one."

"Which next one?" Charles was rather relieved; he had never really been able to handle praise or compliments, especially from Gabriel. "Another case?"

"Yup." Then a grin bloomed on Gabriel's usually stern face, making him look much, much younger. "Guess what? It might well be your last one."

Charles sat up. "Really?"

"Yup, to be honest, your probation may well be over after this." Gabriel leaned back in his seat. "Heard it from the big man myself."

"Wow." Charles didn't know quite how to feel. He hadn't been lying when he had told Gabriel that Earth was starting to look more and more interesting to him, and now, there was the possibility that his 'punishment' was coming to an end. But as the years wore on, it had felt less like a punishment, and more like a calling. There was something very fulfilling about helping the troubled humans whom he had come across, but he knew he was beginning to lose his ability to remain detached and unaffected. He liked humans and their unpredictability. He liked Earth too.

Gabriel must have seen the troubled look in his eyes, for his smile was fading. "Charlie, you alright? Don't you want to come back?"

He nodded hurriedly. "Yeah, of course. It's just- It's just been a long time, that's all." He laughed nervously as Gabriel's sharp blue eyes narrowed at him. "Really, it's nothing. Just ignore me, I'm not myself today."

"Alright." Gabriel didn't look convinced, but he reached into his drawer and pulled out a blue folder. "This one...this has dogged us for years, no one's been able to get through to him so far. We even sent Simon to try and help him, but..." Gabriel shook his head, then passed the folder over to Charles.

Warily, Charles took the folder and flipped through it. "So if even Simon wasn't able to help him, then why me?"

Gabriel pushed up his glasses, smiling at him. "This one is a musician."

"Oh." Realisation dawned on Charles as he looked down at the folder, eyes scanning through the man's particulars. He read them out slowly. "Alexander Lee Winter. Born 1988 in Hammersmith, West London. Musician and record producer, single father of one daughter, Paris Winter, eight years old." Charles's eyes scrolled through the details. "Wife, Clarissa Winter. Died four years ago, breast cancer. Ouch."

"Yes, ouch." Gabriel nodded gravely. "Bloke's still grieving for his wife, never really quite gotten over it. So he buries himself in his work, and there is the very real possibility that he may be starting to neglect his daughter and withdraw from life altogether."

"That's not good." Charles ran a finger over the photo of the man's striking face, taking in the intense grey eyes, the elegant slope of his nose, the dignified set of his mouth. "So what am I supposed to do for him?"

Gabriel waved a hand around vaguely. "Well, help him rediscover the joy of life. Appreciate those still around him. And hopefully, help him find love again. But that's a stretch, I know. Simon wasn't even able to help a little. So we're really counting on you for this one."

Charles studied the folder for a while more, then passed it back to Gabriel. "I'll do it."