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[testpilot-hal.livejournal.com]

Hal was already through the front door, seated at the Bar and halfway through his first cup of coffee when he realized what day it was.

Of all the days for a green-clad hero to show up in uniform, St Patrick's Day might just be the worst.

"Bar. More coffee please. And a t-shirt and a pair of jeans if you have it."

The coffee cup fills to the rim.

Also, a t-shirt and a pair of jeans appear, neatly folded. The jeans are green and the t-shirt (also green) says, Kiss Me, I'm Not Remotely Irish.

"Yep. Today is going to be a long, long day."

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[testpilot-hal.livejournal.com]

Hal ruminates for a while.

"Death. One of these days, I need to track that girl down and have a nice long chat, because I have a few questions ...

"You know, Barry, I don't believe I ever received the what dreams may come part of the death equation. I'm not bitter about it, of course, but my experience is so far removed from the norm ... I didn't do a lot of resting in peace, if you get my drift.

"So coming back feels more like paradise, actually. To finally come full circle and find myself back in ... well ... I saw them, you know. At the very end, I could've sworn I saw them all. Dad. Mom. Calling me to that great beyond ... but my heaven turned out to be a second chance at life itself. Something or somebody decided that I wasn't done yet, and I really don't think that Ganthet was the only one working the strings."

Hal shakes his head slowly, turns to the Bar and picks up his refilled coffee cup.

"You're the scientist, Barry. This is where you tell me that it was all a post-traumatic manufacturing of experiences, that it was just a trick of the dying or reviving mind, but it was real enough to me.

"Now ... does everyone deserve the second chance I have? It would be nice to think so, but I don't think you or me or Ray or anyone in this Bar (with the exception of the pretty pale girl with the black hair) can make that kind of decision."