Based on the book, 'The Five People You Meet In Heaven.' Great story, if you haven't read it I strongly recommend that you do.

I own nothing.


Pieces Of Time

It was supposed to be a simple job. Go in, gather the intel and get out. No one was supposed to get hurt, but when your bad guy has a fed in his pocket things tend to go very wrong very quickly. Michael wasn't expecting it but it still didn't surprise him when it happened, he was a spy after all and if things didn't go bad form time to time than you were probably doing something wrong. The gun was pulled out of thin air it seemed and he had less than four seconds to react before a large and trained hand had it pointing directly at him.

The shot sounded like thunder, and it resonated through the whole restaurant before screams and the sound of shattered glass joined in, creating a symphony in his head. His stomach was on fire and when he curiously put a hand to it he retracted with a hiss of pain and found his fingers stained a sticky red. His head was spinning and colors and shapes began to blur together as he dropped to his knees.

Michael groaned and let his exhausted body fall to the floor, wanting nothing more than to close his eyes and fall asleep. He could hear footsteps and a muffled voice calling his name but he couldn't speak.

"Mike! Mike, are you alright? Talk to me brother. Come on." Sam. He could hear his best friend begging and pleading for him to wake up and speak to him, but he had no energy left. It was like falling through the sky, slow and excruciating as he waited to hit the ground. And finally, as the last wave of fiery, white hot pain ripped through him, everything stopped.

There was no sound, no more pain, nothing. Michael cracked an eye open and what he saw was far from what he expected, and definitely nothing he would have ever imagined. It was peaceful and beautiful, with clouds in every color and shade surrounding him. He wasn't wearing the same bloody clothes he had been in a moment ago and instead wore a crisp white tshirt and blue jeans. He was looking for someone, anyone who might be able to answer his questions when he heard his name being called. It was a beautiful and angelic sound and immediately his eyes searched for the source.

She was breathtaking, and as much as Michael Westen didn't believe in the concepts of heaven and hell he was almost positive she was an angel. As the young girl stepped closer to him he felt his breath catch in his throat and his blood run cold. She was achingly familiar with long brown hair that cascaded down her back and green eyes that seemed to look right through him. The same eyes he would find himself looking into every night.

"Hello, Michael." Her voice tinkled like a bell, with a strong Irish accent he could barely understand and her smile was sweet enough to melt any man she may come across. She held out a hand and much to his own surprise he took it, and as she took the first step the clouds cleared and he found himself standing in a field of rolling green grass. There was an unmistakable smell of saltwater and a cool wind whipped past him, he deeply breathed in the smell and let out a sigh. It had been a long time since he had been here.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" the girl smiled at him and sat down in the field, patting the ground next to her and asking Michael to join. He took a seat in the soft grass, letting it tickle his hands. And as he watched the young girl next to him, realization suddenly dawned on him and he felt a pang of sadness pulse through him.

"You're Claire, aren't you?" She nodded and flashed him a brilliantly white smile.

"The very one. Fiona talks about me a lot, huh?" she asked with a laugh. But her smile vanished when she caught the sad look reflecting in Michael's blue eyes. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair.

"I guess that's not surprising. Fi never was good with emotions, even when we were kids," she mused quietly.

"It's not like that," he told her quickly, wanting to protect Fiona and Claire's feelings. "She feels guilty. About what happened to you. I've only gotten her to talk about twice and both times she was very vague. But she loves you, she always said how much she loved you." Tears welled in Claire's brilliant green eyes and she smiled as she watched the wave's crash into the shore.

"So..." Michael said slowly, wanting to move on, "Why am I here? Or more importantly, where exactly is here?" Claire laughed, high pitched and almost pixie like, her candy colored lips parting slightly.

"You're in heaven, Michael."

He snorted and looked around. "Looks more like Ireland to me."

"Heaven can be anything you want it to be and this is mine." Michael chewed his bottom lip and thought carefully.

"If this is heaven, then that means I'm dead. Right?" Claire nodded sadly and squeezed his hand. Michael sighed and fought back the tears burning in his eyes; this wasn't how it was supposed to happen, there was so much he hadn't said or done. After a moment he recovered and looked back at Claire.

"Ok, then, if this is supposed to be my journey into heaven then what are you doing here?" Claire smiled again.

"I'm here to guide you. Before you can really enter heaven you have to meet five people who've had an impact on your life. But I don't count, because as you already know, we've never met." Michael scowled and watched the ocean roll in and out; trying to fully grasp what was being said to him.

"Come on, we're running out of time." Claire grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet and suddenly the green grass beneath him seemed to evaporate and he found himself in the garage of his mother's house. It looked somewhat like it did today but dirtier, with beer cans and bottles of unfinished bourbon littering the floor and work bench.

"And here you thought you'd only see me in hell, huh boy?" Michael whipped around and found the source of the voice, a face he thought he would never have to see again. Frank Westen, complete with beer bottle in hand stood in front of him smiling wickedly. Michael frowned and his face grew dark, unsure if he should run or not.

"There's no way this is heaven." He said flatly, looking around for Claire, who was no longer next to him. Frank laughed, a loud cackle that shook Michael to his core as memories came flooding back to him.

"Like it or not, Michael, this is heaven, and I am standing in it." He took a swig of his beer before slamming the bottle on the table and taking a seat on one of the stools. He nodded to the one next to him and after a moment's hesitation Michael sat down too.

"Alright, boy, let's make this quick. I'm here to talk to you about your life before you died and just let me say, we've got one hell of a story to go through."