Rating: PG

Note from Jen: Although, seemingly, this has nothing to do with Pacey or Joey, it in fact does. Patrick is Pacey as we know him, Jorie is Joey, and as you'll later find out, David is Doug. Stick around, and you'll eventually figure out what's going on.

Prolouge

1946 - Somewhere in Connecticut

"Mom, I swear, I'm fine," Patrick Williams told his mother through the pay phone at the truck stop.

"Are you sure Pat? I want you to be okay in Los Angeles." His mother was home in Worcester, Massachusetts, where Patrick had grown up.

"Mom, I was in the Army for three years, I'll be all right. I promise. I've got to get going."

"All right, call me when you get there."

"I will. Bye Mom." Patrick hung up the phone and jumped into his '40 Chrysler Plymouth and took off down the road. He was going to Los Angeles jobless and with little money. He was hoping to get a good job with his WWII veteran status, but he would settle for anything that offered money. At only twenty-two, he could learn anything. He was sure there'd be all the time in the world to do everything he had ever wanted.

Stopping in a town some five hours later, Patrick ambled over to the river, where a few families were picnicking. He observed for a while, then started to walk away when he heard screams for help. He turned, and one of the women and her two children were caught in a current. Not thinking twice, Patrick jumped in to help them to safety. He grabbed the children, swam them to safety, then went back for the woman. He got her to shore, then was swept away in the current himself. The last thing he did was yell for help before his lungs filled with water and he drowned.

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1946 - Heaven

"Patrick. Come on, Patrick, wake up!" A woman yelled at him.

He opened one eye and looked around. He was in an empty room, aside from the woman and the bed he was laying on. He had just been in the river, now he was in a room. He jumped up off the bed, scared. "What's going on?" He looked at the woman. She was short, with graying brown hair. "Aunt Judith?"

"Hello, Patrick."

"What's going on? Where am I? You're - you died."

"Patrick, you're dead, too. You died."

"I'm - this is - we're in heaven?"

"Yes."

"This is heaven?"

"Yes, Patrick, this is heaven."

"Can I meet...you know, him?"

"He doesn't like to meet with new arrivals. Come on, let's get out of here." She led him out, but they didn't seem to walk out, but fade out. The next thing he knew, Patrick was in a room full of art. "This is my house."

"Is this your art?"

"Like it? It's mine. I guess being creatively challenged on earth has its benefits here. I don't know how, I just picked up a brush one day, and I could paint. Amazing. And here is your room. You can stay here as long as you like. I suggest getting some sleep. I slept for days when I arrived."

"Thanks, Aunt Judith, but I'm not tired."

"All right, then. So Pat, anyone you want to see? Any friends?"

"You mean-?"

"Dead, of course."

"Oh, yeah. Larry Polsky. I'd like to see him. He was with me in Normandy."

"Okay. Imagine him. Imagine being somewhere with him."

Patrick imagined being in basic training with Larry, in Texas. They had gone to Larry's house for dinner. Patrick imagined so hard he landed on the floor in a room where a girl was playing a piano, a boy eating a sandwich, and a man and woman reading.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm looking for Larry Polsky." "You must have the wrong house. Happens all the time," the man told him.

"I could help you, if you want." The girl at the piano had stopped playing and was now standing beside him. She was tall, and had long brown hair and green eyes.

"You can?"

"I help the new ones. Help them adjust, find people their looking for. I'm Jordan Porter, but everyone calls me Jorie."

"Patrick Williams."

"Nice to meet you. Now, take my hand. Bye mom, dad. Concentrate. Think of this person."

"Larry Polsky."

"And we're here."

Patrick looked around, and sure enough, he was outside a house that looked like Larry's. But it wasn't. "This isn't it."

"No problem, we'll just go to the school. I'm sure we can find him from there. Come on." She led him down a street, full of multi-colored buildings and houses. Finally they came to a large building painted various shades of pink, blue and green.

"This is school?"

"Yep. Go on in."

"Okay." He started in. "Aren't you coming?"

"Nope. There's other new arrivals I need to help. But we'll meet again. If you ever want to see me again, just think of my face."

Patrick went into the school. There were children in one room playing instruments. In another, they were in a place that looked like the jungle. In another, the one Patrick stopped in, they were playing with devices that looked like televisions hooked to typewriters. A tall colored man in a suit came out to speak to him.

"Hi there. Calvin Worcester. Can I help you?"

"Patrick Williams, new arrival. I'm looking for Larry Polsky." Patrick was amazed by those machines.

Calvin pulled a tiny one out of his pocket and pushed some buttons. "Polsky. He's gone back."

"Back? Where?"

"Back to earth."

Patrick looked at Calvin dumbfounded. "We can do that?"

"Sure can. But it never happens when you want it to. Always happens at the most inappropriate time."

"Wow. What are those things?" Patrick pointed to the devices. "Computers. The next big thing on earth. We make everything here, and hopefully one of the reincarnates will take back some of the knowledge and invent these things on earth. I have to get back to my class. Say, we should get together some time, play some golf."

"Sure." Patrick was genuinely replying, for golf had been one of his favorite pastimes.

Calvin returned to his class, telling them to have a new program ready in an hour. Patrick laughed, not having any idea what any of the talk was all about. He returned to the yard from which he had come, and found Jorie sitting at a piano.

"You enjoy school?"

"Yes, very much. The kids do this all the time?"

"Not all the time."

"But I was under the impression that we got to do whatever we wanted."

"We do, in a sense. But children still must go to school."

"Ah, I see."

"Well, I better be going. You can get home all right?"

"I can manage."

"Good-bye." Jorie vanished and Patrick soon vanished as well. He arrived in Aunt Judith's studio.

"So, how was your day?" Aunt Judith asked, preoccupied with her painting.

"Wonderful," Patrick replied grinning. He had just met a wonderful woman, and he was happy. He left his aunt to continue with her painting and headed for his room. There he found a shovel. He had no idea what it could mean, so he just left it and went to sleep, feeling unusually tired.

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1946 - Heaven

Weeks later, Patrick was out roaming the streets with Jorie. They had become great friends and, spent a lot of time together. Patrick, whether he be dead or not, still thought Jorie was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. Jorie thought Patrick was a pretty good looking guy, and very intelligent, with always something to say.

Patrick looked at the houses as he walked by, and noticed one in particular. It was a white Victorian with black shudders. He knew that house, but couldn't place it. Finally, it came to him.

"That's my house! That's the house I grew up in."

"Want to go in?" Jorie asked, noting his obvious excitement. He nodded, and they headed up the walkway.

Once inside, Patrick remembered everything.

"I bought this couch for my mom, from Texas. And the cedar chest, that has my baby clothes in it. The dining room table, we ate dinner together all the time."

Jorie looked around, scanning the pictures over the fireplace, one containing a younger Patrick and two people, obviously his parents. Another held a young boy with a ball, who looked similar to Patrick, but had a different look in his eyes. More mischievous, Jorie thought.

"Who's that?"

"Who? Oh. That's David, my twin brother. He was killed when he was five."

"Then he's here. We could find him."

"Maybe we could." Patrick seemed to dismiss the thought of David too easily, like he was avoiding something.

"Is something bothering you, Patrick?"

"No, not really. It's just that David and I were never very friendly. In fact, we hated each other. When he died, I was actually glad, but now I'm ashamed of myself."

"Don't be. You were young, it's understandable."

"You're too accepting, Jorie. But I like you for it." Patrick boldly took Jorie's hand and kissed her.

"What was that for?"

"Nothing." Patrick looked slightly embarrassed. Jorie reached up and kissed him again. When she pulled away, Patrick looked deep in thought.

"What are you thinking about?"

"When I'm reborn, I want to have a brother again. Only next time, I want to get along with him, be friends with him."

"Patrick, I'm sure you will. Come on, it's getting late." Jorie pulled Patrick through the house to the door, and they both returned to their respective homes.

"Aunt Judith, I think I'm going to get my own place."

"That's nice. Someone is at the door to see you Patrick," Aunt Judith said when he appeared in her studio.

Patrick went to the door to find a mid-sized red-headed man smoking a cigarette.

"Hi Patrick," he said in a scratchy voice with a New York accent.

"Hello."

"I came by to see if you had any questions. About being here."

"Actually, I do." Patrick went back to his room, and brought out the shovel. "What does this mean? It keeps appearing in my room."

"It's probably significant. When you're reborn, your mind keeps thoughts, not whole ones, but partial ones. This might be what you're going to keep with you."

"But a shovel? Why a shovel?"

"It could just be a stand-in for another object, like a trumpet, or a gun, or hey, a computer. I don't know. You put it there, so I can't tell you what it's for. I better be going now. You come see me if you have any questions."

"I will." Patrick thought it strange that the man hadn't introduced himself, but he passed it off as bad manners, or that he just forgot. He had a lot to get ready for his new house.

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1946 - Heaven

Patrick had asked aunt Judith how to go about building a new house, and she told him to build whatever he wanted. She said he should think of a place, and a house, and he would be there. So Patrick thought of a log cabin, in a valley with mountains all around it, and he was there. The house was exactly like he'd always wanted. He couldn't wait to show Jorie.

He imagined her face, and was taken to her house. She was again playing the piano. "Hi, Jorie, come see my new house."

"One minute. Mother, father, I'm going with Patrick." She took Patrick's hand, and he once again imagined his house. Jorie looked around, and gasped. "This is beautiful."

"I know. Jorie, I want to ask you something." He kneeled down in front of her. "Will you marry me?"

She reached down and ruffled his hair. "Of course I will."

"Wonderful." He stood back up and kissed Jorie, already mentally planning their wedding.

**********************

1946 - Heaven

"Do you, Patrick Williams, take Jorie Porter to be your wife?"

"I do," Patrick grinned.

"And do you, Jorie Porter, take Patrick Williams to be your husband?"

"I do," Jorie smiled back as Patrick slipped a ring on her finger.

"With the power invested in me by, well, you know who, I know pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Patrick did just that as Calvin, Aunt Judith, Jorie's parents, and all the other friends the pair had made throughout their time in heaven ooh-ed and ah-ed.

"Congratulations Patrick and Jorie, and may you be together for eternity," Calvin toasted at the reception.

"I agree. May you be together forever," the red-haired man said, who Patrick had come to know as George.

"I love you, Jorie," Patrick whispered.

"I love you, too, Patrick," Jorie whispered back.

Later that evening, at their home, Jorie was playing the piano while Patrick hummed along. "Jorie, I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed."

Jorie, knowing she had to tell him before it was too late, decided now would be the best time. "Patrick, I need to tell you something."

Patrick, sensing the sadness in her voice, sat down on the piano bench beside her. "What is it?"

"I'm going back. I'm going to be reborn."

"What?" was all Patrick could manage to breath out.

"I'm going to be someone's baby."

"So soon?" He knew she'd died when she was eighteen, and had been here three years, but it was still soon for him.

"Yes. I can't do anything about it. And I think it will happen tonight." Jorie had started to cry.

"Oh Jorie. I'll find you. I'll come to earth and I'll find you."

"Patrick, I don't think you can."

"I will, no matter what. I love you." Patrick kissed her tearstained cheek and took her to bed.

Later that night, Jorie awoke with a strange feeling; it was time. She remembered everything that had happened in all her twenty-one years, eighteen on earth, three in heaven. She had lived a wonderful life as Jorie Porter, but now it was time to be a new person. She kissed Patrick's forehead, and she was gone.

Patrick awoke the next morning with a feeling in the pit of his stomach. Without even moving, or opening his eyes, he knew Jorie was gone. The one person he loved the most had left, but he was determined to get her back.

He dressed quickly, and imagined George. But he couldn't get to him. George was blocking him out for some reason. No problem, Patrick would just find him the way you'd find someone on earth. He looked everywhere, knowing he'd find him soon enough. Finally, after hours of searching everywhere he could think of, he knew what to do. He imagined a cigarette, and he was at George's side.

George looked up from his newspaper surprised. "How did you find me?"

"You blocked me out, and I looked everywhere. Then I thought of a cigarette, and found you. Your the only one up here who smokes."

"I knew I needed to quit for some reason. So what is it you need?"

"I want to go back. I want to be reborn."

"I can't do that."

"Please. I need to find Jorie. I love her. If you send me back, I promise I'll find her."

George knew what Patrick was feeling, and was sympathetic. "Fine, I'll give you fifteen years." George paused. "If you don't find her in twenty years, you'll both be miserable for the rest of eternity." He paused again, seemingly deep in thought. "If in twenty-five years, you haven't found Jorie, you will be cursed to never have a relationship that works for the rest of time."

Patrick was so ecstatic, he tripped over the chair behind him. Climbing back up, and righting the chair, he was glad George had given him twenty-five years, instead of the initial fifteen. "Thank you so much. I will find her, I promise you. I will find Jorie."

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To Be Continued

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