"He who was living is now dead." Timothy murmured. "We who were living are now dying." He rubbed at his eyes. They were dry, and so tired. It felt as though he hadn't slept in days. And he supposed he hadn't - or at least hadn't slept well. Because Jude had cried. She'd wept bitterly and softly, with bouts of soul-wracking sobs. She'd passed out weeping for two nights, leaving his chest wet and sticky for he did naught but hold her.

She wanted nothing to eat. Barely drank save for coffee. She refused his every offer of any comfort he could fathom: food, bath, blanket, music. Even liquor she denied - save for a shot to calm her nerves on the day Johnny died. And that one Timothy had insisted.

It seemed all she wanted was him. Not departed Johnny, though Timothy had no doubt she would have moved mountains to change fate. No, she wanted him - Timothy Howard. The man she'd sworn she would never forgive his wrongdoings.

She'd been his shadow at best these last days and his siamese twin at worst, clinging to him closer than skin. He knew now this woman's body more intimately than any lover had or could. Tears had made them familiar - as blood between vampires. The salt of themselves had mingled and bonded. And while he knew now she was weak with grief as he was...they were stronger together than either was apart. When grief passed in time, he hoped Jude would remember the taste of their salt together; the feel of their skins sticking; the firm strokes of his fingers on her spine; the lazy, delirious songs he hummed over her shallow breaths.

"With a little patience," he whispered.

"What?"

He looked up from the couch to see her standing in the bedroom door. Standing for the first time on her own in two days. He tried a reassuring smile. "Nothing." His knees cracked when he stood. "You're beautiful."

"I hate wearing black."

"I know." She'd bought the dress yesterday. Just for Johnny's funeral. They'd gone into town together - amongst the oblivious dead oblivious to their dead. They'd walked as strangers among strangers, Jude's head on Timothy's shoulder and his arm supporting her. Like zombies they'd walked.

And she'd cried when he zipped the dress up her back. He'd held her in the dressing room, not caring what the saleslady might think.

It was simple. Elegant. Soft cotton and cashmere with a cowl that nearly hid her graceful neck. The skirt flared around her legs well below her knees. She looked down at the chunky black heels. "This is probably the most covered Johnny evah saw me." She laughed ruefully, and Timothy smiled, simply pleased she wasn't crying. "Except far the time I stayed with him..." She trailed off, chewing lip.

There were simply no tears left now. He recognized the feeling: emptiness. Emotion spent to the point the body grew numb. She shook it off admirably. "We should go."

"When you're ready." He followed her to the door. Her curls were tamed, too - captive in the black netting of her snood. She hardly looked like his Jude at all...

She didn't turn on the radio in the Nash. There'd been no music for days now and he found he missed it terribly. "Did I - did I tell ya about the time I stayed with Johnny?"

"You didn't."

She stared out the car's window. He could see snowy branches and bare trees reflected in her eyes. Her voice was hoarse. "I was a fuckin' mess. And this man took me in no questions. He put me up in my own room in his house. Such a perfect house. He fed me. He sobered me up. Got me workin' again. Treated me like a daughter or somethin.'"

"How long did you stay?"

"Only a few weeks." She wiped at her nose. "I shoulda stayed longah. He asked me to. Wanted me to."

"Why didn't you?"

"The same reason I didn't want to stay with you." She finally looked at him. "My pride." Her body curled. This weeping was more of a painful wail. "Christ, I know it killed him when I left! And then ta see me..." Timothy stroked her back, prepared to pull over if need be. "I was so ashamed! So embarrassed. I tried ta pretend everything was okay, but... I just wanted to disappear all the time."

"Jude." Fine. He pulled over. "Look at me." She did. "Johnny never judged you."

"I know that." Her hands fluttered. He calmed them by taking them in his own. "Even aftah that...gangsta."

"What gangster?"

She closed her eyes. "The man who beat me. Who..." She'd never spoken of the incident. Not in any detail. He'd only heard hints between Jude and Valerie. He wouldn't pressure her for details. Instead, he pulled her closer until he could awkwardly wrap arms around her, press his nose into her spicy hair.

She spoke of her own accord, quickly as if speaking it would erase it, and he didn't interrupt. "He was flash. Had all this money. He came ta the club a week straight befar I even let him buy me dinnah. And he was nice. Kept comin' back. Didn't try anything. I called him a gentleman, but Johnny... Johnny didn't trust him. Told me to keep my distance." She nuzzled his arm. "Why didn't I listen ta Johnny?"

"We rarely recognize when we're getting the best advice - and from whom - until it is too late, Jude." I certainly didn't.

"I thought that fucker was my meal ticket. Let him move me into this apartment downtown Boston. And I wasn't stupid. I knew I was the other woman. And I knew what was expected of me in that apartment, but Christ..." She shook her head. "He was rough. And mean. He wanted...to control somethin.' Me, I guess. And one night, when he fell asleep, I took the money outta his wallet and the clothes on my back and took off. Thought I could just run back here, ya know? Back ta Val and Johnny. But...that bastard woke up. He found me on the street. And ya know what? Not one fuckin' cop raised a fingah when I was screaming. When he slapped me so hard I thought my jaw was broken."

His hold on her tightened. His jaw clenched. His fingers became fists at her sides. "Jude..."

"He threw me in the car and drove me outta tha city. On this deserted highway in the middle of nowhere. Three o'clock in the mornin.' He stops. Drags me outta the seat by my hair. Bends me ovah the hood and...Ya know." A gesture - her two hands breaking something in half. The gesture was not lost on the man who'd also been broken. "Then he beat the hell out of me and drove the fuck off."

"Jude."

"Johnny took me back. My dumb ass. Callin' at the crack of dawn from some gas station. No idea where I even was. Could hardly walk or talk. He came and picked me up. Fixed me. Again," she stressed. "God only knows what he and Val and the fellas did ta that gangsta. And again...I left. I couldn't even face him."

Timothy's teeth hurt from his painful clench. He worked hard to control his anger. "You're a strong woman, Jude. You were independent. Johnny knew that. Understood that. He respected you."

"I was so stupid!" She wailed now, clutching his jacket. "If only I'd stayed with him..."

And Timothy wondered what would have happened if Jude had stayed with Johnny. Would he have found her? In Johnny's bar? Would he have heard her sultry song? She certainly wouldn't have needed to pimp herself out for a meal. Would she have even known Timothy Howard existed in this afterlife? He doubted it.

"He loved you. He recognized your fire, Jude. I think he - he didn't want to snuff it out."

"And then you!" Her angry hands slapped at his chest - not hard. "You show up here talking about forgiveness and - and love like anyone could love a stupid fucking whore who -"

"Stop it!" He grabbed her jaw, just hushing her. His hands shook. He forced her to face him. "Don't you dare call yourself any of that ever again, Jude. Never again. My life belongs to you. My heart. If you cannot recognize your own value then you will not recognize your value to me. Johnny saw it. Val sees it. Why can you not look past your past and into your future?"

She kissed him. Deeply and roughly and carelessly. And he kissed her back, tilting her head to ease the onslaught and whisper in her ear. "My Jude. Let me be here for you. However you need me. Let me be to you what you once could not allow Johnny to be. Please. He would have me care for you as I wish to. He...was my friend."

Her face fell into the crook of his neck. She breathed heavily. Minutes passed. Her clutch on his jacket eased. She slipped back and away at last. There was an odd peace on her face. "Drive."

"Jude."

"Let's go. We're already running late."

It was a graveside service only. Mutually agreed that Johnny had no use for churches in life, so why use one after life? There were tents and that was good because -

"Of course it's fuckin' raining." Val groused.

Missy patted her back. "You're just mad cuz you're wearin' a dress, darlin'."

"You look lovely." Timothy smiled at her awkwardness. It was a little dig - a little offer to lighten the heaviness.

"Shut up, Nancy."

Jude joined him - poked her friend's rib. "Ya got no hips, Val."

"Yeah? Well, you got no torso, so what?"

Jude looked down. "I do have a torso," she insisted.

"Not really." Missy shrugged. "Pretty much legs, ass, and tits."

Jude gasped, a put-on hand to her chest. "Well, you must be lookin' pretty hard."

"Who isn't?" Missy shot back, a grin breaking.

"This is a funeral," Timothy hissed, flabbergasted that the women would be so coarse at a time like this.

"Not like any funeral you've evah seen." Jude nudged him. "Come on. Let's sit." She wrapped her coat tightly around her shoulders when they sat - in the middle of a sea of laughing, smiling faces.

It was true the ex-priest had never attended such a service. Jazz musicians played while those close to Johnny took turns at the podium, telling stories of times past. Drunken bar fights. Loose women. Late night advisory sessions. A copper still. Drag racing. Tales more suitable for...well, a bar.

But, Timothy mused between bouts of laughter, Johnny would have loved it. And he would have loved the way Jude hid her laughter and her tears in the crook of Timothy's neck; and the way he wrapped her in his coat and pulled her close. Johnny would have loved seeing her smile. Seeing her cared for. Seeing her happy.

And without a doubt he would have especially loved Val's testimonial.She cleared her throat nervously at the podium, smiling at Missy's thumbs up. "Hey." A rather shy start. "Um. A million years or so ago, I was uh - doing some construction work for ol' Ms. Lundt - Hey, Ms. Lundt!" A wave into the crowd. Timothy turned to see the bookstore owner blowing Val a kiss. "And uh - John Hathaway comes into her shop to buy some car magazines. I think he was workin' on that Model T he had fer a while. And uh - he sees me hammerin' away at a bookshelf and asks would I do some work at his bar. So I show up next day ready to build some shit, ya know? I'm thinking stools, tables, shelves...bar shit, right? I sidle my ass up to the bar. Johnny sidles his ass down the bar. I ask what he needs done and he says, 'Oh, I just needed a tough ta run the door tonight.'" Raucous laughter. "Next thing I know, I'm a bouncer and Johnny's the best damn boss I evah knew." She nodded. "I'm gonna miss him." She patted the coffin nearby - closed. "I miss ya, Johnny!"

Murmurings of agreement. Missy hugged Val when she returned to her seat. "Judy. Ya oughta go up there. Say somethin' for Johnny."

Jude shook her head. "I wouldn't know what to say."

But a chorus of sorts had begun. A chant rippling through the crowd. "Judy! Judy! Judy!"

Eyes wide, Jude turned to Timothy. "Go," he said, kissing her temple. She rose unsteadily, made her way to the podium, fingers stroking Johnny's lacquered box as she passed it.

At the mic, she choked up a bit. "I'm so happy to see so many people here today ta say good-bye to Johnny." A cheer. "And you've all had such great stories and times to remembah. But...I don't really have just one story to tell ta really express how much I loved this man. I guess...I don't really know what ta say." She bit her lip.

Timothy watched her flounder. "Dammit," he muttered. It was so obvious. He stood, felt Val's eyes on him. "Sing!" He shouted. And predictably, the crowd supported his suggestion. Vociferously.

Jude stared at him, cheeks pink and eyes moist. A slow smile formed as her bandmates gathered around her. A quick tuning session. A quick conference. And then...music.

I've been so many places in my life and time

I've sung a lot of songs I've made some bad rhyme

I've acted out my love in stages

With ten thousand people watching

But we're alone now and I'm singing this song for you

Everyone stood. They swayed. They held hands. Many sang along. Jude stared at Timothy as she sang.

I know your image of me is what I hope to be

I've treated you unkindly but darlin' can't you see

There's no one more important to me

Darlin' can't you please see through me

Cause we're alone now and I'm singing this song for you

And he hadn't realized until he heard her voice that it wasn't just music he'd missed these last days. It was Jude's music. Her mellow, rich tone. The confidence in her throaty croon. The way her eyes closed and her hips swayed and she lost herself in the song...

You taught me precious secrets of the truth withholding nothing

You came out in front and I was hiding

But now I'm so much better and if my words don't come together

Listen to the melody cause my love is in there hiding

He could see tears on her face, could even hear an occasional catch in her voice. He knew she sang this song for Johnny, yes. But he knew she sang it for him, as well. And like all of the other songs she'd used as a weapon or a letter to his soul, it hit home. He wanted to go to her, to hold her like he had for nearly three days now.

I love you in a place where there's no space or time

I love you for in my life you are a friend of mine

And when my life is over

Remember when we were together

We were alone and I was singing this song for you

The band, so practiced with their leading lady, knew when her control was lost. They knew when emotion won out. They played on even as she rushed from the podium, fought her way through the mourners to hurl herself into Timothy's arms.

He kissed the tears from her face. "Beautiful," he said. "A perfect choice. I -" She kissed him, and he hushed.

The service had run long. Strong until the rain turned to freeze. Cold and numb through, parties had slowly departed. Jude, Timothy, Val and Missy had stayed to watch Johnny lower into his grave. They'd dropped the first dirt on his box together - as a family. They'd sniffled in sadness and in cold. They'd embraced, too numb to feel the comfort.

But the reluctance to part was warming. "How about breakfast tomorrow?" Jude asked, shaking in Timothy's arms.

"Sounds good." Val gave a loud sniffle. "I'm gonna get this one in a hot bath." She squeezed Missy.

"That sounds good, too." Missy smiled. "See y'all in the mornin'."

They were mostly quiet on the ride home. Both frozen through. Timothy broke the silence. "It was a wonderful service."

"It was." Jude nodded, staring out the window.

"I think it was appropriate. Exactly what Johnny would have wanted." She didn't reply this time, so he let the silence settle.

But even at home, silence.

"Would you like a tea? Coffee? Something to warm us up a bit?" He hung his coat on the rack, followed by hers.

"No." She rubbed her arms now, watching him build a fire in the stove.

"Would you like me to draw you a hot bath? Follow Val's example?"

"No."

It unnerved him, how withdrawn she seemed to be standing in the bedroom door like that, fiddling with the zipper on her dress. He moved to help her, unzipped the long zipper and patted her shoulder. "Would you like to eat something?"

"No." She unhooked the clip on the snood and curls tumbled free.

"Would you like the TV on? The radio?"

"No."

Her bare back was cool to his touch. He sighed heavily. "Jude. I'm sorry. I hardly know what to -"

"Timothy."

"Yes?"

She closed her eyes, leaned against his hands until he cupped her ribs inside the cold wet dress. "I'd like ya ta make love to me." Her voice - so strong and confident and sultry - was small and uncertain in their dim, warming house.

But he didn't trust his own voice, either. So he answered her with his touch, instead. He swept her loosed curls aside, kissing her neck up to her jaw, to her ear. She whimpered at his ghosting fingers pushing slowly at her dress, baring her to the cool. Seeing his intentions, she turned in his arms. The grey, dying light cast a serious shadow on his face and she stroked the expression softly. "If you're ready," she whispered.

Truthfully, he'd been ready. He'd been ready to take her three days earlier - when the call came that broke their reverie. It wouldn't have been his first expectation, but he saw the sense in this: the need to feel alive in the face of death. The want of warm in the bleakest cold. And yes, he wanted those things. He wanted her.

His throat felt too tight to answer. Her vulnerability in that moment, gooseflesh in a black bra and half slip, the moisture in her eyes. The pain in her soul matched his own. He nodded.

They kissed as she undressed him, easing the tie through his collar, shaking fingers unfastening buttons. He flinched when her touch drifted beneath his undershirt, grunted in her mouth. He hadn't realized his own fingers were working until she broke their kiss on a gasp.

He'd imagined this would be a magical, hushed experience - the two lovers joining for the first time. Muted murmurings of love. Breathless, quiet moans. But, her ribs were sensitive and the bra's clasp was an infernal mystery. So there was a surprising tiny yelp followed by chuckling.

"Sorry," he winced.

"Here." She reached behind herself and loosed the clasp.

He stopped her from removing the undergarment. "Let me."

"Mm-hm." She nodded, biting a lip shyly.

She was so very pretty undressed. Curls caressing shoulders and breasts just heavy enough to be satisfyingly cupped in curious, eager hands. She encouraged his explorations, shifting against him when he worked at the slip, garter, and panties together. They pooled around her ankles like the last vestiges of innocence between them.

He heard a shoe fly when she flicked them off, hands back at his waistband. She was determined to bare him, too. But his tummy was sensitive and when he lurched at the tickle, there was another chuckle. "You okay?"

He was more than okay. Smiling against her lips. "You feel...wonderful," he chuffed.

"You do, too." A sweet hum when her hands dipped beneath boxers.

He groaned. "God help me."

He'd also imagined this encounter would be tempered by grief. That lust would give way to wonder. That passion might pause for purity. But in hindsight he supposed (as he squeezed her behind) sex was simply sex no matter the metaphysical state, and his body responded to hers as if grief was already forgotten.

His erection bobbed thickly when she tugged his trousers and pants free. He stepped out of his shoes as she toed off her stockings, bodies awkwardly moving to the bed. Timothy sat on the bed's edge, struggling to free one foot from his last sock while a naked woman straddled him. He soon forgot the sock, completely distracted by breasts and curves and kissing and cool skin. He pulled her into the bedding with him. "You're cold," he murmured, stroking her back and shoulders.

"I'm warming up."

"You certainly are." He could feel the hot core of her stroking his cock. The pressure of her body wreaked havoc on his control and he closed his eyes, jaw tight - the briefest flash of similar blonde locks and a red slip on wrong woman.

"Okay?" She cupped the taut jaw.

"Yes." When he opened his eyes, he caught Jude studying him intently and gulped. "What?" He whispered.

She said nothing. Kissed his lips lightly and twisted them until she lay on her back and he rested between her thighs. "Jude," he groaned, nuzzling her neck. She knew; knew the pain of losing the luxury of choice, the shame of being taken against one's will. She gave him the power - the control. But the acceptance in her eyes, the tenderness, reminded him this would not be about power or control. That this would be about love. He stroked her temples. "Jude, I love you."

"Shhhh." She pulled his forehead to hers. "Timothy." She shifted against him and he took the hint.

"Oh, God." It felt...like sliding into the grip of perfection. She was wet, hot like hell and tight. He watched her face, recognizing the moment when pain turned to pleasure. A grimace, a bitten lip, gave way to a smile that reached her slit eyes. "You're beautiful," he choked.

"You too." She watched his expression as he'd watched hers. Monitored his reactions. "Breathe."

"I can't. This feels..." He moaned, burying his face in her breasts and clutching her so tightly breath wasn't even an option. "I want..."

"What do you want?" She was thrusting against him - little undulations that made his sanity waver.

"I - I don't know," he panted.

"I want you to move, Timothy." Her nails scraped the nape of his neck, his scalp.

The touch was electrical. He growled. "Jude." His body tensed, hips thrusting automatically.

"That's it," she whined. "Yes, Timothy! That's so good!"

"Fuck," he hissed and gave up the control. They moved together, his body following her body's lead, picking up its cues. Their breathing pattern melted into a smooth flow. Bedsprings creaked. Headboard shuddered like his grip on her hips. "Amazing," he spoke sloppily into her mouth.

"Yeah." Her neck arched. She thrust harder against him, heels dug into mattress. "That's - that's it. Shit, I'm close. Faster, Timothy."

"If I -"

"Faster!" She snapped. A hand clawed on his buttock. Sweat slicked them. "And harder," she gasped. "God. Please..."

It felt too much like praying - begging for this release, this closeness. Felt too much like absolution - her arms gripping him so tightly. Felt too much like Heaven - the sublime tickle of pleasure that started in his bollocks and spread wildfire through his body.

His mind shut down. For the most fleeting second, he was afraid he'd died, pumping heat and sticky essence like life's blood. Weak from the overwhelming moment, he breathed hot breaths onto her hot neck. He could feel Jude's pulse fast beneath his lips. He kissed the little ripple in her throat, still enjoying the little ripples around his softening cock. And that was rather amazing, too.

The whole thing was amazing. Just damn...awesome. He felt a helpless, lunatic grin spreading and he imagined Jude felt it, too, against her skin. "Jude..."

"Mm."

Her fingers were tracing soothing designs on his back and shoulders. He suddenly felt an aching need to talk. A lot. "How - how - how is that a sin?" It was a wonderment, really. "I mean that was...that was the best fucking thing that has ever happened to me in all of ever. Really. Honestly." Her heartbeat was slowing beneath his. One of her thighs trembled before stickily sliding down his. "And I think we can only get better. Honestly. The two of us. I mean, I know I'm new to this but God...I have the most remarkable ideas." Finally having caught his breath, he propped up to share his ideas with her. "I can only imagine - Jude?"

She was crying. So softly he'd not heard her. But there were tears streaking her temples. His thumbs stopped them. "Jude. What's -"

"I love you!" She wept, shut her eyes tight, threw a hand over her face. "I always fucking loved you! Goddamn you! Even when I wanted to hate you, I loved you so much!" Her other hand joined the first, pushing his fingers from her face. "You made me so weak! So desperate and blind and crazy! And even when you destroyed me, even when you left me to rot, I fucking loved you!"

"Jude!" He grabbed her hands, rocked by her sobs. "Look at me!"

"No!"

"It was I who was weak, Jude! Who was desperate and blind and crazy! I was weak with my feelings for you and blind to love and desperate for the wrong things and then -" He managed to wrestle her hands from her face, staring into her eyes -" - and then I was crazy to leave you. Crazy to disbelieve you, not to trust you!" His own tears choked him and he swallowed them down painfully. "But I have the rest of this eternity to show you the love I wasted. If you'll just let me, Jude. Please." He stroked her templess again. Kissed her chin softly. "Please," he whispered. His eyes closed on a prayer.

"Timothy." She turned his face back up, brushed her fingertips across his eyes until they opened.

"What?" He sniffled wetly.

She tried a trembling smile. "You wouldn't be inside me right now if I wasn't gonna let you love me."

He nodded slowly, returning the smile, then blinked. "Oh. I am still inside you."

"Mm-hm."

He looked down between her breasts, between their glistening bodies. "I'm...inside you."

"It's a requirement of most sexual encounters between men and women."

"Sexual encounters..." He murmured, looking up again. "More than one?"

"There's no particular set limit."

"That's...splendid." She chuckled. He shifted his hips. "I suppose I should um...get out of you?"

But she wrapped him in her arms and legs suddenly, vehemently. "Maybe not yet." Their foreheads pressed together. "Besides." She patted his back. "There's gonna be a mess when you pull out."

"Oh. I suppose that makes sense." He shrugged in her embrace. "Entirely worth it."

They were eventually driven from the bed. The calls of nature and hydration were impossible to resist. Wrapped in sheets and blankets they fed each other chicken and grapes and cheese, shared a glass of tea and stoked the fire before stumbling in an embrace back to the mattress and ensconcing themselves again in the safety of lust and the reminder of life.

"It is...deeply remarkable." Timothy muttered in the crown of Jude's head.

"What is?" She asked, passing him the cigarette.

He took a drag, flicked the ashes into the tray balanced on her bare knee. "This." He tightened his hold on her in the blankets. "Us."

Jude grinned, stretching back to kiss his jaw. "You're just in the grip of yar first afterglow. It'll pass."

"I am very fond of sex, apparently."

"You most definitely are." She took back the cigarette, laughing. "Thank God I am, too."

"There is strong evidence to support I could make round 4."

"Yes, I feel the evidence in my backside." She stubbed out the cigarette.

"Cheeky." He took the ashtray just in time for her to turn in his arms. "Jude."

She paused, straddling him, arms draped across his shoulders. "Timothy."

"I know that...this is a distraction. That you are grieving. I know that Johnny is - was - an important figure in your life. Or...your - our - afterlife. And I want you to know that I would never take advantage of your sadness to achieve...this...between us. I will share in your grief as I share this bed. I will never let you -"

"Timothy." Her hand slipped over his lips. "Yar rambling." His eyes went puppy and he grunted behind her fingers. "We've got eternity to talk and feel all kinds of shit. So..." She shifted on his lap. "Shut up and fuck me."

She set the pace this time; a slow, grinding one. She clung alternately to his shoulders and to the spindles of the headboard behind him. Her kisses, nips, moans and breathy cries made him nsane. "Jude, please."

"Ya feel so good," she hissed in his ear. "I just don't want this to end."

"It won't." He cupped her jaw in his hands. "But you're the most diabolical goddamn creature I've ever known and I think I'm about to come inside you."

"Yeah?" She swirled her hips, snakelike.

"Yeah," he groaned painfully.

"Watch this." She leaned back, body arcing gracefully. HIs hands sleeked over her sweaty skin until he gripped her hips. She braced on her knees and pulled his hand to her fevered center. "Now. Touch me."

"Mary Mother of God..." He braced on his own knees, fingers plying her swollen clit, matching her rhythm of thrusting. "Jude, this feels -"

"Perfect! Yeah! That's it." A guttural growl. She thrust her hands above her head, pushed up on tense palms. "Oh, fuck, Timothy. Yes!"

He was convinced that there was nothing in life or the afterlife more beautiful than Judy Martin in orgasm. She smiled through the convulsions, curls trapped between teeth and lips, gasps turning to breathy laughter and he couldn't help joining her in the joy. He braced on an arm above her, watching her watch his own surrender unfold until he collapsed on her, completely winded. "Jude," he moaned.

"Mmmm." She stroked him. Gentled him. Mustering the last of his strength, he pulled the discarded duvet from the floor and over their fast-cooling bodies. "Timothy. Tell me you love me again."

"Jude." He propped on an elbow to meet her tired, satisfied eyes. "My Jude. My rara avis. I love you more than I ever loved myself in our sordid, earthly lives. You have made me a better man in this life. You are my strength and my sole reason for being here." He swiped a tear from her cheek. "Do you believe me now?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Jude."

"What?"

"Will you tell me again? That you love me, as well?"

The woman who could own an entire club with her powerful voice couldn't find that voice. It was swallowed by the emotion she accepted at last. She stroked his stubbled cheek, tone low and cracking. "I know that...no one can break you into more pieces than the person ya love. And you broke the hell outta me. You know that. And I couldn't let go of that because... it nevah made me stop lovin' ya. I hated it and I couldn't understand it but there it is." She shrugged. "And now...it's like you've taken all those pieces you broke and...put 'em back together into something stronger and more beautiful than it evah was befar. So I went from being this smoldering, busted bottle to this...precious thing?" He nodded. "And you put the fire back into me. And I know that right now...I couldn't do any of this without you." She kissed the top of his head when he hid his face in her neck. "So. I love you, Timothy."

It was a formidable feeling - this woman's love. "I don't deserve you."

"Oh, yes you do." She snuggled into his sticky embrace. "We deserve each othah." A sniff. "Even if we smell disgusting right now."

Grateful for the lightened mood, he sniffed too. "Oh, God!"

Jude chuckled deeply. "Let's have a bath."

"And then a nap?"

"And then a nap."

But a nap turned into a deep, dead sleep. Clean and loved and completely exhausted, they curled in each other's arms and bastioned themselves in blankets and slumbered. In two healed hearts, ardor ruled dominant; and death held no dominion. The night cradled them in starry peace.

Morning, however, was a giant reality filled bitch. It started with knocking. The lovers stirred simultaneously, lust hangovers clouding their reactions. "Mrph." Jude burrowed into pillows.

"Mm?" Timothy burrowed into Jude's breasts.

More knocking. Jude's head popped up from pillows. "The door," she croaked, voice not quite functional yet.

"What door?" Timothy popped out of breasts.

"Val!" She gasped, scrambling in sheets. "Breakfast!"

"Oh, hell." Timothy groaned.

"Get dressed." Jude was tossing clothes out of the closet.

A shirt smacked him in the face. "I can't," he muttered.

"What are you on about?" She was buttoning a red-brown calico dress.

"I can't move." Outside, Val's truck horn sounded. "That better be Gabriel's horn."

Jude laughed, skittering barefoot out of the bedroom. "Just get up! I'll take care of Gabriel." She closed the door behind her to give him some privacy.

He rolled like a slug to the edge of the bed. Absolutely every part of him ached. "This is my punishment," he muttered to himself. "This is the price for my unchecked lust. Agh!" When he stood, his back sent a hot zing of pain into his shoulder. When he bent into the blankets to retrieve the clothes Jude had hurled at him, he caught the unmistakable scent of Jude. And sex. A slow grin spread at the same rate as the pain in his thighs. "Entirely worth it."

When he finally managed to limp into the kitchen, he found Val and Missy already at his table and Jude making coffee at the stove.

"Mornin', Tim!" Missy chimed sweetly. Her eyes were tired, but smiling.

As were Valerie's when he caught her sussing stare. "Good morning, Missy. Val." He nodded.

"Nancy." Val squinted at him. "Little sore this morning?"

"Ah..." He felt the hot blush spread across his face. "Um." Jude turned to him from the stove. She'd misbuttoned her dress.He winced.

Missy lit a cigarette. "Funerals can really wear a person out, honey. Isn't that right, Tim?"

"Yes. Definitely." He appreciated Missy's interference.

"You're right." Val nodded. "Do they uh - give you hickeys, too, Judy?"

"Goddamit, Val!" Jude whipped from the stove, but her hand went to her neck. She clearly hadn't thought to check for damning evidence. "For fuck's sake we just practically lost our father. D'ya think he'd want to see us picking at one anothah the day after his funeral? What would he say if he was here right now?"

"He'd probly tell ya ta put yer clothes on right, ya slut."

Jude looked down at her buttons and gasped. "Shit." She scurried past the table to fix her attire in the bedroom.

Timothy had taken over the coffee preparation, keen to avoid any further ribbing. But he wasn't safe. Val joined him, elbow nudging his as she retrieved four cups. "How was it?" She whispered. And again he couldn't stop the hot blush. But he avoided her question with a pointed glare. "Yeah." She nodded. "Us, too. I swear, after funeral sex is the best." She spoke to Missy over his scandalized stare. "Baby! You want cream and sugar?"

"Yes, please." It was Jude who answered, swaying back into the kitchen. Dress affixed and shoes on, she was far more prepared for teasing. She kissed Timothy's cheek before retrieving cookware. "Now. Who wants eggs?"

The hosts' sex life aside for breakfast, they talked about the funeral a bit; recalled te joyousness of it, the many friends and patrons who'd attended. And of course, they spoke of Johnny; of how different it would be without him - without Hathaway's. The subject brought a hush to the table. They stared into their coffees, frowning.

"That's enough mopin', already." Missy rose. "Gimme these dishes. I'm gonna get ta washin.'"

"I'll help." Timothy stood, too. Jude and Val cleared the table, and when the next knock came at the door, it was Val who went to answer it.

"Who could that be?" Jude asked.

Timothy shrugged. "At this point, who the hell knows?"

"Holy shit!" Val turned from the door, holding the curtain there closed with one hand. "Tim! Judy! There's a little nun on yer stoop!"

"A nun?" Jude asked. Her eyes locked with Timothy's. "Is it..."

"Should I let her in? She's got some man with her."

"A man?" Jude went to investigate. "Yeah, Val. Let 'em in."

Val stood aside, holding the door for Mary Eunice to enter, followed by Max Boardman. "Judy." The nun smiled.

"Eunice!" Jude flung her arms around her friend. Their embrace melted them together. "What are ya doin' here?"

"Mmm." Eunice relished the embrace for a moment, stroking Jude's back. "We've got some business to take care of."

"Business?" Timothy accepted the next hug.

"Business!" Max Boardman extended a hand and Tim took it. "Mr. Howell. Good to see you again. You seem to have done well for yourself here."

Timothy cleared his throat. "I've tried."

"You've tried very hard." Eunice commented, rocking on her heels. She elbowed Jude. "Did he try very hard?"

"Eunice!" Jude hissed.

"Oh, dear. We've missed breakfast, Sister Mary Eunice." Max was making himself at home or...at office...at the kitchen table, popping open his sleek briefcase. He sat. "Is there a chance of coffee?"

Missy stirred, nearest the stove. "Um...sure. Mister?"

"Boardman! Max Boardman. And you must be Missy?"

She turned, surprised, a spoonful of coffee suspended above the percolator. "Yes, I am." She looked to Timothy and Val, still frozen in the middle of the living room.

"Fortuitous that you are all gathered here." The steely haired 'lawyer' extracted a pair of wire rimmed glasses from the pocket of his neat, gray suit. "I have been assigned as the executor of Mr. John Hathaway's last will and testament and it seems you are all included in that will."

"Wait." Val drew to attention. "Johnny had a will?"

"Did he not request a pen and paper before his unfortunate lapse of consciousness?" Max asked, peering over his glasses.

"He did." Missy replied calmly. She poured the gentleman a cup of coffee.

"Thank you, my dear. Fine Southern hospitality."

"You're welcome." Missy sat to the table.

Val came to stand at her side. "I don't understand. John had a lawyer?"

"I have always been Mr. Hathaway's solicitor, so to speak." Max's lips pursed as he rifled through papers. "Well, let's see here now." He cleared his throat. Timothy pulled out a chair for Jude, stroking her shoulders as she sat. Eunice had taken up residence in the recliner, feet at the head and head on the foot rest. Her wimple dangled to the floor and she giggled. "Just to make you all aware this is an official reading of the last will and testament of Mr. Jonathan Murray Hathaway, who is survived by no blood relative. Understood?" Nods around the table. "Miss Valerie Watts?"

"That's me." Val whispered.

"Hm." A paper flipped. "Congratulations. You are now the proud owner of a slightly fire damaged nightclub."

"What?!" Val's hand flew over her mouth, eyes immediately tearing. "Hathaways? Hathaways is - is mine now?"

"I believe that is the name of the establishment in question, yes." Max nodded.

"Baby!" Missy shifted, wrapped an arm around Val's stunned form. "You were just sayin' last night that you were gonna rebuild Hathaway's! He knew! Johnny knew how much you loved that place."

Jude grabbed Val's arm, steadying on her chair. "You wanna rebuild Hathaway's?" The hope on her face was naked and glowing. At Val's nod, she bowed her head. "Oh, Val... John would be so happy."

"Quite a project." Max was the unbiased voice of reason.

"A project for all of us," Timothy assured, smirking.

"I see a building montage!" Eunice sang from the living room. From behind the couch, they could only see her finger swinging in mid-air. "Woo-hoo!"

"Melissa Boodle?"

Eunice snickered. "Boodle."

"Me?" Missy gestured to herself. "Johnny left me something?"

"Yes. Let's see." A paper flipped. "Oh, that's right." He reached into the briefcase and extracted a small box. "These."

Missy's hands shook as she flipped open the jeweler's box. "Oh, Johnny..." Shining and simple, a pair of slim gold wedding bands. She looked up at Val. "These must have been his and Carolyn's."

"Carolyn?" Timothy asked.

"Johnny's wife," Jude murmured, smiling at Missy. "She died years ago."

"Johnny knew we'd be togetha forever, doll." Val kissed Missy's forehead.

"He knew nobody else would want ya, ya pain in the ass." Jude poked Val's rib.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yer one to talk!" Val shot back.

Jude was volleying when Max spoke. "Miss Judy Martin?" She froze, eyes wide as she turned to the older man. A page flipped. Timothy's hand tightened on her shoulder. "The remainder of Mr. Hathaway's estate goes to you, my dear."

"The...the remainder?" Her voice broke in her throat.

"Yes. A car, I believe?" He reached into the briefcase and extracted a set of keys. "A Triumph. Good lookin' set of wheels, that. And..." Jude caressed the car key - a wooden bottle opener keychain worn smooth. Max extracted another set of keys. "His house."

She blinked at those keys before her fingers wrapped around them. "His house..." She whispered.

Max cleared his throat. "Yes. In fact, his only note beyond dedications of items reads as follows: Judy - It was always your home."

Timothy's hands slipped down her back when she stood. "I need a minute!" She gasped, fleeing to the bedroom and slamming the door.

"Jude!" He made to follow her, stopped by a black-clad arm.

Eunice had appeared silently as a ninja. She patted his chest, smiling smug reassurance.. "This is why I'm here. I got this." She opened the door just a crack, slipping in quietly and clicking it shut.

"Oh, Judy..." Val wiped tears from her face. "That's gonna be hard for her."

Timothy's throat hurt. He chewed at his lip, staring at the bedroom door. "Mr. Howell?"

Distracted, he looked back to Max Boardman. "Yes?"

"This is for you." The lawyer set another, smaller jeweler's box on the table.

"For me?" He looked at Val.

"Looks like you were adopted." The brunette shrugged. "Bet I know what it is."

The box was old. Its hinges made a creaking sound as he opened it. His eyes closed at the sight of the single diamond ring. The box snapped closed and he wrapped his fingers tightly around it. Missy touched his arm when he looked back to the bedroom door.

***

"We have to stop meeting this way." Eunice leaned against the door when It closed behind her.

"I can't do this right now, Eunice." Jude sat on the edge of the bed, head cradled in her hands.

"Do what?" The little nun meandered over.

"Whatevah deep, philosophical conversation you have in mind about forgiveness and love and acceptance and..." She waved dismissively. Sniffled. "Whatevah else ya got."

"I just wanted to congratulate you on your new home."

"I'm not ready for this, Eunice!"

"Nonsense." Eunice shifted. "I'm feeling a little weird about sitting on the bed with you. I'm pretty sure there's been sin all over those sheets."

"Dammit, Eunice!" Jude looked up, eyes red. "Help me!"

"Help you what? Change the sheets?"

"Agh!" Jude stood, pacing. "A house? What the hell am I supposed to do with a house?"

"You...live in it?" Eunice folded an edge of duvet up, gingerly making an untainted seat for herself. "You and Timothy."

"Me and Timothy." Jude chuffed, peeking out the window at nothing. "Me and Timothy are just now coming to terms with the fact that we apparently...love each other."

"Wow. Don't get too sentimental on me."

She paced again. "I just feel like everything is happening so fast! First, Timothy shows up and...shoots everything to hell. Then the fire and...Johnny." She choked back tears. "And now a house? Johnny's house? Some big life togethah?" An airy gesture. "It's just crazy, Eunice. So far from who we used ta be. Who I used ta be."

"We're not still on this 'I don't deserve to be happy' kick are we, Jude?"

"No! I'm not saying that. It's just..." She sat again. Dropped her head on Eunice's shoulder. "I don't know what's next."

Eunice bit at her lip. Stroked Jude's cheek. "Well...there is something kind of...in the works. If you're willing."

"What do you mean 'if I'm willing?'"

"It's kind of a 'your assignment if you choose to accept it' thing. Jude." Eunice turned her older sister to face her. "I know that we don't talk much about...the past. Or death. Or...moving on much. Past this place, I mean. And if I'm totally honest with you, it's because there's a reason. There's a purpose for you here."

"What purpose?" Jude hadn't seen Eunice this serious before. She seemed almost frightened, and that frightened Jude.

"Something is coming, Jude. Coming to God's creation. Something evil."

"Like...a demon? Like one that possessed you?"

"Worse. The devil's own creation."

"You mean...an anti-christ?" Jude asked. She wanted to disbelieve, but she was so far beyond that ability at this point.

"Exactly." Eunice sighed. "There's quite a buzz about it. It's going to be big."

"Eunice, you act like the apocalypse is coming." Jude laughed ruefully, but sobered when Eunice didn't argue. "Oh my God."

"Is a construct," Eunice added. "But the point is - we need a weapon. A tool to use in the coming storm. The proper factions need...bolstering."

"A weapon," Jude murmured.

"Remember the Seraphim?"

"The highest order of angels." Jude nodded. "Yes, I remember reading about them."

"Well, we need one."

"I don't know any angels, Eunice." Jude nuzzled Eunice's shoulder. "Except far you."

"Jude."

"Hm?"

"We need you...to make one."

"Make one?" Jude sat up again. "I don't understand."

"Know how you always wanted a family? To be a mother?"

She swallowed, shaking her head. "What are you saying, Eunice?"

"Seraphim are born of special souls in special circumstances. They're born of strife. Of love. They learn strength against any adversity. They learn light. Life. They're...special. They have...certain capabilities - seven, specifically, but we can get into all that later - beyond any we might understand. And when their soul is ready - when it's learned all it can - it goes to its purpose."

"Its purpose," Jude repeated numbly.

"In this case...to save mankind."

"That's a tall order."

"We think we have the right cooks." Eunice looked on the edge of begging. "Please, Jude."

"Eunice. I don't know if you're aware of this or not. But even if I wanted to...make an angel baby far ya? And I do, don't get me wrong!" She shook her head sadly. "I can't."

"In life you couldn't, Jude. That miserable life that disappointed you at every turn. That made you beg for death. That broke your heart, your mind and your body." She grabbed Jude's hands, her own emotion taking over. "But now...you can have whatever you want. We can make it happen. You can make such an impact. Jude. Don't look so shocked. This is your fate."

"Fate?"

Eunice shrugged. "It's a thing."

She had to process for a moment - Jude did. She stared at her hands in Eunice's, thinking. "You're saying...I could have a baby."

"Yep. Easy peasy."

"I'm too old for this, Eunice!"

"Age is also a construct."

Jude sighed. "You just...give me a baby, you mean. And I get to be its mother."

"Nope. Gotta get that bun in the oven, so to speak." A nudge. "You're already practicing, so it shouldn't be a problem."

"Eunice!" But she was beginning to smile, cheeks pinkening. She touched her belly. "I could have a baby." She looked up suddenly. "But Timothy..."

"I don't think he'll mind being a father."

"Should I tell him? Any of this? I - I have to tell him, Eunice."

"I'll take care of that." Eunice stood up. "Lay down."

"Why?" Jude scooted back into the pillows, kicking her shoes over the edge of the bed.

When she was prone, Eunice cracked her fingers. "Magic," she winked. Her hands hovered over Jude's stomach for a moment before she giggled down at her former sister. "By the way, I've always wanted to do this."

There was warmth - like opening the hot oven. And then, Jude slept.