the dreams we didn't need

part one - James

James hated his job. Well, it wasn't a job, as such, but he hated it nonetheless. He hated having to look into their confused, lost faces and telling them that they might not ever see their loved ones again, that they would never again enjoy their favourite parts of life. That they were, in fact, not alive.

He especially hated the children. Most of the older ones already knew, could already guess that they were dead, and a lot of them were at peace with it. But the children- the children were confused. The children didn't understand death, didn't understand that they were alone, that they couldn't see their parents again for a long time.

This one seemed to be just the same, and he took a deep breath before putting a smile on his face as she let him into her house. The afterlife looked the same as life, with the same countries, same streets. The only difference was that the people in the afterlife were, obviously, very dead.

"So, what's your name?" He asked the young girl, who hovered awkwardly. He plonked himself down on the sofa, and she sat beside him.

"I'm Maisie." She said anxiously. "Are you a friend of my Mum and Dad's?"

"Not quite." James told her. "But I hope that I'm going to be your friend. I'm James, by the way. It's nice to meet you."

"Oh. You too. But-" She stopped, and James nodded at her to go on. It was never easy, never, but he found it easier to let them ask questions first, let them warm up to him, until they felt safe. "Why are you in my house?"

"I have something to tell you, little flower." He said, the nickname rolling off his tongue before he realised it. She reminded him of Lily.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Well, do you know what heaven is?"

"Of course I do. I'm eleven, not three."

"Right. Silly me, of course you do. We don't really call it heaven here, just the afterlife, but I'm sure you understand the idea." This was the worst part, the part where they heard him, and they didn't believe him. They did everything they could to prove him wrong.

"What? Are you telling me I'm dead?"

"We all are, up here."

"No, no, that isn't right." She turned away from him. "Mum and Dad are just upstairs, sleeping!"

"No, they aren't. You won't be seeing them for a while." He said gently, putting his hand on her shoulder as she turned back to him.

"But- I can't be dead! I haven't done anything with my life!" She started, becoming more and more agitated by the second. He hated this part the most. The moment they all realised they were dead and had never had a chance to do what they'd wanted to.

"I know the feeling." He said, squeezing her shoulder. "But it's okay. There's nothing to be done, little flower."

"No!" She started to cry. "I don't even know if Ash is okay! And Buttercup! Who will look after Buttercup!"

"I'm sure your Mum and Dad will look after Buttercup. And we haven't had anybody named Ash arrive up here, which means they're perfectly alright." He was glad to at least give her the comfort that her loved ones would be okay.

"But-" Her words were breaking up, her eyes blurred. "I don't know anything! There's so much to know, and I don't know anything. Even my hair doesn't know if it wants to be brown or blonde."

James knew when was the right time to pull them into hugs, and now was it. He pulled her close, and hugged her just tight enough to show her that she was safe, that she was okay, or that everything would be okay.

"I tell you what." He suggested. "How would you feel if I told you a story?"