4. Mark: Bist du Bei Mir

Mark had never cared much for painting while alive, but in the afterworld, it was strangely fun. For one, he was good at it. Somehow his body recognized the colors in a new light, and it was easy for him to mix the exact shades in his memory to create the fire pits he'd once flown over and the castle looming over the lake of fire. He even painted in six small figures at the foot of the castle, each with the distinctive features of the Hyde Club members. He bet they'd appreciate that next time they had to come to Limbo for a delegation.

Spending time with the Seraph was also fun. He'd assumed Jinyoung would be stuck up, but the angel had apparently retained whatever playful personality he'd had as a human. Heaven had made him serious and cautious at times, but when those barriers fell down, he had a lot of charms. He smiled and laughed a lot, and was full of interesting thoughts. On the day he began painting in The Divine One's palace, he even confessed to Mark that he wished he'd had the opportunity to spend some penance years in Limbo.

“It's not that I hate being Seraphim,” he'd said, his forehead wrinkling. “It's that I agreed to it without thinking. This is my eternity now. Other than this little interlude here, I'm spending the rest of all existing time in Heaven, working under a figure who never even deigns to meet his people. When I think of it like that, sometimes I wish I had chosen to pass on.”

Mark had sympathized, even though he hadn't even been given the luxury of a choice. It made him sad to think that at the end of a hundred years, Jinyoung would be back in Heaven and they would most likely never see each other again unless Heaven and Hell continued to battle over the assignments of souls and fate assigned them to the same case a second time. If the Hyde Club summoned him back to Hell, he'd also spend the rest of existing time there with nothing worthwhile to break up the monotony. Even if he got to see other Seraphim from time to time, he doubted they'd talk to him as openly as this one did.

When they weren't painting, the two of them mostly spent time with the Median and his new pet (or Jaebum and his pet Median—they were always arguing over which one was technically correct). The day-to-day activity of Limbo wasn't terribly exciting, but Youngjae's responsibilities were more interesting than his workers'. It amazed Mark how many fresh souls he dealt with each day, waking them up and dividing them among Heaven, Hell, and Limbo, and hearing out the petty disputes between the Demonkin and Seraphim as their leaders amassed their armies.

“He never rests, does he?” Jaebum asked, his eyes trailing after Youngjae as the Median went to speak to someone in private. “With as hard as he works, it's not fair that no one's speeding up his sentence in Limbo.”

“If someone did, they'd have to train whoever they elect to replace him, I think,” Jinyoung said. “I bet it wouldn't be easy to get someone as efficient as him. I'm sure they want to keep him as long as possible.”

“So you know how this whole business works.” Jaebum looked at Mark and Jinyoung solemnly. “You two saw my file. Do you think I really belong in Hell?”

Jinyoung blinked. “Not at all. If anything, your actions could have earned you a fast track to Heaven.”

Jaebum shook his head. “But I've seen some of the things that get these people sent to Hell, and they're not all that bad. They can be damned for things they did when they were younger but repented when they were older, robbing to feed their children, suicides... what I did should have earned me a spot in Hell, if all those people are there.”

“But you saved the lives of two children.”

“Yeah—I saved them from a cult that I had been personally supplying. All the equipment they used to spread those fires? It came from me. That was how I was earning money after I ran off from home. Selling black market goods to horrible people like that. And out of all the people who died? I just saved two. Two.”

Mark looked at him solemnly. “You didn't light the fire. You can't be held responsible for the evil actions of others.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But my actions played a role in what happened all the same. I broke the law and made it easier for people to break the law along with me. And people died because of that.”

“But you were horrified at what happened,” Jinyoung said gently. “In these realms, intentions are just important as actions.”

Then why wasn't I forgiven?, Mark wondered to himself. In both life and death, why did no care what I had meant to do?

Jaebum nodded, though Mark could tell he wasn't all the way assured. “I guess it doesn't matter. I'm not going to Hell even if I deserve to go. I'm sticking it out with this kid.” He jerked his thumb towards Youngjae. “He's going to get himself in a lot of trouble one day, and I'm going to make sure he doesn't suffer for it.”

“What do you mean?” Jinyoung asked.

“I've been paying attention to what's going on. All these Demonkin and Seraphim coming to fight over souls isn't supposed to happen. They're preparing for conflict, and they're not just going to let Limbo stay neutral. And Youngjae's the Median. He's by nature going to take the middle ground, but if he stands in the way of someone important, they're going to demolish him. And if that happens, then I'm going to be around to stop them. Did you even know that along with the delegation of you two, Youngjae received bribes from both Heaven and Hell for my soul, bribes that would have shortened his own sentence in Limbo? But he chose not to take them so I wouldn't be a pawn in their war games. And I'm not about to forget that.”

Mark had never considered that. Limbo had always been safe territory due to its lack of importance to Heaven and Hell—the souls there weren't good enough for Heaven and not bad enough for Hell. If that changed, the Limboites could end enslaved by either The Corrupted One or The Divine One and be stuck with a fate they hadn't earned or asked for. There was no question in Mark's mind that the Median wouldn't stand for it and would have to be subdue.

After Youngjae came back, Jinyoung and Mark retreated to their room to rest.

“I was thinking about what Jaebum said,” Jinyoung said quietly when he'd settled down into his bed. He had such an awkward way of sleeping, as if he still had no idea how he was supposed to do it with wings. Mark found it kind of cute. “Are you like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like the people he mentioned, who got sent to Hell for sins that could have been forgiven.”

Mark bit his lips. Yes, he wanted to say. What I did was no big thing. It was what I had to do. I couldn't live otherwise, not when I already felt dead. In truth, he'd always felt like he'd deserved to go to Hell. It had just infuriated him that he'd been sent there for a sin other than his genuine sin. The one thing he and everyone else had held against him had been forgivable, but when he'd done exactly what everyone had wanted of him, he'd wound up damned for it. That rankled him the most. He didn't want to be in Hell for that 'sin,' or to have no access to forgiveness or closure to his genuine sin.

“No,” he said finally. “I know your Divine One's rules, and I'll agree he's being overly harsh on some of them, but there's no way to get out of the one where he considers life to be sacred. If you take a life, you end up in Hell.”

Jinyoung froze on his bed, raising his eyes to meet Mark's. “You killed someone?”

Mark nodded. “I took a life. That's not something I can ask lenience for.”

Still, when he saw the heartbroken look in Jinyoung's eyes, he wanted to justify himself. The person who died wanted to die. That wasn't my sin. I did something worse, far worse than taking that life... But he didn't want to see the heartbreak in Jinyoung's eyes when he confessed to that either, so he kept his mouth shut.

All of a sudden, Jinyoung cleared his throat. “I think...I think there must have been a good reason.”

“Excuse me?”

“Why you killed someone. Maybe it was self-defense, or... I don't know, something...but I can't see you as the kind of person who would willingly hurt someone else. You're too kind.”

Mark smiled wryly. “As flattering as it is to hear a pure Seraph say that about me, you don't actually know me all that well. I've been both alive and dead for 42 years, and you've only known me for... however long we've been here now.”

“I don't need to know every little detail of your life to know what kind of person you are,” Jinyoung insisted stubbornly. “You've been nothing but respectful to Youngjae and Jaebum. You made a truce with me after only knowing me for an hour, and haven't harmed a hair on my head since.”

“Maybe you just don't trigger my dark side.”

“Maybe your dark side isn't half as dark as you think it is.”

Mark sighed, burying his head in the pillow. He didn't want to think about any of this. He didn't want forgiveness to be dangled like a treat in front of his face only to be snatched back later. “This is why we're supposed to stay away from Seraphim,” he grumbled. “They're so preachy and goody-goody, the stink of purity makes you dizzy.”

Jinyoung's feathers bristled. “Am not.”

“I think it's great to believe in goodness,” Mark said, seriously this time. “But don't go looking for it where it isn't.”

“I won't,” Jinyoung said firmly. “I'll find it exactly where it is.”

Their paintings on the ceiling were progressing quite nicely. Mark loved looking at Jinyoung's landscape of Heaven and taking in all the beautiful things that existed in the Elysian Fields. Even though life in Heaven sounded as dull as life in Hell (minus the being able to sleep part), it certainly was beautiful. Mark could imagine Jinyoung perfectly in those fields, his white wings unfurled and the breeze tickling his soft feathers. Mark still hadn't touched them yet, but he was thinking of it with increasing fascination. Mark had sensory nerves in his wings, so he had to assume it was the same for Jinyoung. Touching Jinyoung there might send him into a second fit of shivers, something he desperately wanted to witness. Still, he wouldn't put it past Jinyoung to send him hurtling down from the ceiling if he tried, so he held back for his own preservation.

Instead, he contented himself watching Jinyoung work. He had such a pretty look of concentration, and was expressive during every step of it. He'd look upwards and wrinkle his forehead when he was pulling up his memories, then hesitate once or twice before committing to putting the brush on the ceiling. When he actually painted, his mouth would fall slightly ajar until he removed the paintbrush again, and then he'd exhale as if he'd just executed the most exhausting thing in his life.

At one point, Jinyoung finally glanced over. “Aren't you supposed to be painting, or are you just practicing your ert power again?”

“I don't know,” Mark said innocently. “Do you feel flushed all over?”

“No, but your stare is making my skin itch, so there's that.” Jinyoung frowned up at his work. “Is my technique inferior or something?”

“Did you notice you hum a little when you paint? I was just listening to you.” That was partially the truth. Jinyoung did hum, but Mark had been more immersed in Jinyoung's expression on that particular occasion. “What song is that? One of the songs you sing in Heaven?”

Jinyoung nodded. “It's an old religious aria. It's a favorite of the female Seraphim, but there are arrangements for lower tones. Still, what's an angelic aria without some incredibly high notes?”

“So there are words?”

“In German.”

“Well, are you going to sing it for real?”

Jinyoung stared at him like he was crazy. “And disrupt everyone below us?”

“An angel singing may be the loveliest thing any of us ever hear. Why not?”

“I'll feel self-conscious.”

“What for? I'm sure you have a beautiful voice.” He leaned into him, fingers brushing against Jinyoung's hair. “I'm sure you have the most beautiful voice.”

Jinyoung flushed a little, but nodded. in his breath, he closed his eyes and began to sing.

Mark didn't know German, but the words were simple and repeating:

Bist du bei mir, geh ich mit Freuden

zum Sterben und zu meiner Ruh

zum Sterben und zu meiner Ruh

Ach, wie vergnügt wär so mein Ende,

es drückten deine schönen Hände

mir die getreuen Augen zu

More than that, they were beautifully sung. Jinyoung had a crystalline voice, one that pierced directly at his heart. Mark had never before tried to imagine what an angel's voice would sound like, not even during Christmas with all the Glorias and angels heralding a sacred birth, but now he understood. It felt like his soul was being cleansed, as if forgiveness was at long last in reach. Tears filled his eyes, and for once he let them fall.

Once Jinyoung finished, Mark could hear a burst of clapping beneath, Youngjae's hollering the loudest of them all. Mark couldn't keep himself from beaming. This Seraph was special. Maybe all the angels could sing like this, but he doubted any of them would have sung for a room full of Limboites and a demon and performed as earnestly as he would have in Heaven.

“What did you sing?” Mark asked once the cheering had died down.

“If you were with me, then I will go gladly unto my death and to my rest, unto my death and to my rest. Ah, what a pleasant end for me, if your dear hands be the last I see, closing shut my faithful eyes to rest.” Jinyoung swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “I wish the God those words had been sung for had been in Heaven instead.”

Mark lifted an eyebrow. “So...The Divine One isn't that God?”

Jinyoung nodded. “I've heard that he's like us, like the Median. Rumor has it he's a human soul who was elected to guide the souls of Heaven and got too big for his britches and thought he was God, and that's why he never shows his face to us. If the God of that song exists, I think he exists somewhere higher than Heaven. Somewhere as beautiful as the thought and intentions in those words.”

“Then The Corrupted One must be the same,” Mark whispered.

“Yes. I think so, too.”

“That's the worst. Being ready to go gladly into death, and this is what it ends in.”

Jinyoung nodded. “I know.”

Mark's soul still felt strengthened by Jinyoung's song, but at the same time it was incredibly unsettled. There was something wrong with both Heaven and Hell, and it was only getting worse. It wouldn't matter so much if he was the only one caught in the crossfire, but that would no longer be the case. Youngjae and Jaebum and all the other Limboites would be hurt. Jinyoung would probably be hurt most of all.

He didn't want to reach Heaven or forgiveness or rebirth by hurting someone he cared about. That was no longer a solution. Whatever he did now, he wouldn't be doing it for just himself. He would be doing it for all of them.

A/N: Everyone, thaks for your support thus far :p