Title: Final Jeopardy (formerly titled The Waiting Room)
Author: Cinder
Archive: Sure! Just ask.
Rating: PG (sorry)
Summary: Doyle has an interesting encounter in the netherworld.
Author's Note: I was just sitting there and this sort of came into my head.  
Everybody should know at least one character in here.

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Walking through the encroaching mists, kicking up little clouds in front of
him, Doyle was disappointed to see that heaven was mostly a simple set of
mirrors looking out on the mortal world.  Sighing, he sat down on a nice,
rather fluffy looking cloud next to a long haired man.  For a while he
watched Angel, but the vampire was sleeping, and then he switched to
Cordelia, but she was filing her nails while the phone rang helplessly
behind her.  With a grunt he scratched himself and thought briefly about
TNT Monday Night Nitro, before a loud noise next to him grabbed his
attention.  It was the big, long haired man pounding his fist into his
other hand.

"Hey, careful with that thing."

"What?  Oh."  Frowning, the man shook out his hands.  "Sorry, just hard to
hold onto serenity when you're watching mistakes like that.  Look at that!
Just look at it!"  He jabbed his finger at the mirror where a young man and
a boy were waving their hands around like ninnies in time to silly looking
kicks.

"Oh, yeah, bad, huh?"

"Awful, terrible, no good, very bad!"  He continued to expound as Doyle
slowly edged himself away.  "It's bad enough that he can't teach the boy
well enough to prevent him from destroying the universe and slaughtering
all of our friends and associates in about twenty or so years, but look!"
He jabbed his finger at the mirror again to make his point.  "He's not even
noticing that turn-out.  Flaw like that and the boy will be limping by the
time he's thirty!"

Two red-heads grabbed his hands and pulled him away just in time, before
the long haired man could begin ranting again.  Luckily, the man didn't
seem to mind, as he pontificated into thin air.  "Just look at that
over-extension!  Look at that!  Amateur!"

"Wow, who was that guy?"

Red-head number one smiled, his freckled cheeks and green eyes almost
impish.  "He's just upset because he took a Sith saber to the chest before
he could train the chosen one."

"Good for the kid, I say," the other red-head added.  "Teachers are nothing
but trouble."

"Excuse me, but is this heaven?" Doyle asked.  "Because if it is, I am
seriously disappointed."

"Oh, no," the first red-head smiled, "this is character death denial Hell.
People out there in the real world like to deny that our character died, so
we can't go all the way to Hell.  This is more of a waiting room."  He
grinned again, bouncing on his toes.  "I'm Pendy by the way."

"Pendy?"

"Agent Pendrell, but that's just a little too formal."

"What's your first name then?"

"I never got one."  He sighed.  "They killed me off before we could learn
it."

Doyle shrugged.  "Well, I guess that's okay.  I go by my last name too,
Doyle."  They shook and he turned to the second red-head.

"Richie."  They also shook.

"So, does anybody ever actually get out of here?"  He rocked back on his
heels.

"Sure," Pendy enthused, "Mulder has been here like three times and he
always leaves.  And Blair left and Sherlock..."  He frowned a little, but
it was very cute on him.  "Not a lot."

"Truthfully," Richie guided their little group over to a convenient fluffy
cloud to sit on, "the problem is that when the writers decide to kill off a
character in order to raise ratings, or because they're so confident in
their ratings that they think they can, they almost always choose the wrong
one.  The show is soon after cancelled."  Richie blew on his nails, rubbing
them against his chest.  "Like mine for instance."

Pendy frowned.  "My show is still running."

Wanting to make him feel better, Doyle leaned forward and patted his hand.
"But I'm sure the fans miss you terribly."  Pendy smiled again.  Richie
just shook his head.  "So, umm, what happens to those of us who don't get
out?"

Shuddering they both pointed to a moss and cobweb covered figure hunched
over in the corner.  "That's Captain Christopher Pike.  He's been here
since the very beginning of Star Trek...the first one," Pendy hissed.

They all gave a group shudder.  "Are we going to end up like that?  I
really need a drink."

One appeared at his elbow along with a rather wispy looking blue-eyed man.
"Here.  This'll help.  Careful -"  he tried to warn, but Doyle had already
thrown it back.  "That was straight scotch."

"Great man. Thanks."  The half-demon wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
"Another?"  Marvelling, the young man poured another.

"Get outa' here, Spender!"  Richie growled pushing the other man's
shoulder.  "You're not wanted."

"You trying to start another fight, Ryan?"

"What if I am?"  As has been the style since time out of mind, the two got
in one another's faces.

"Stop this right now," a little, blonde, elfin woman admonished.  "You're
both above this."

"I don't like this life-er hanging out with us," Richie taunted.

"Stuff it, Ryan, or can I stuff it for you?"

"Richie is calling Jeff that because we've never seen Jeff's body," Pendy
hissed in Doyle's ear.  "Technically, Jeff could still be alive.  Nobody
puts anything past the guys who do that show."

"Man, there's no reason to be cut up about all this," Doyle asserted,
pressing forward.  "Let's just all have a drink and be friends, shall we?"
He raised his glass in toast and then drank it down.  Behind them the long
haired man began another loud argument with the mirror, this one apparently
about hair.

"I am not drinking with this life-er!"

"Now, Richie," the blonde woman admonished in measured tones, "you know
that you're just jealous because they announced that you're probably not
going to be in the movie, but you can't be taking that out on your
friends.  If you persist I'm going to get Kendra and have her get mean with
Mr. Pointy on your ass.  Do I make myself clear?"

"Is it just me or was that last statement really open to
misinterpretation?" Doyle asked Pendy with a smile.

"Oh, that's just Kes.  She's too nice to know what she's saying.  Poor
girl.  She was dropped in favor of a 44D."  He shook his head slowly.

"44D?"

"Yeah," he winked, "a pair of them."

"Ooo," Doyle poured his new friend a glass of his own from the pilfered
bottle, "you have a definite devious side."

"Yeah."  Pendy ruined the whole thing with an "awe shucks" shuffle and
smile.  "It's part of my new look.  See, I figure that if I can convince
the powers that be that I'm really a bad guy spy they'll bring me back for
a cool twist."  He shuddered involuntarily.  "Nobody wants to end up like
Pike over there."

"Oh, yeah, I'll bet."  He looked around.  "So, is there anyway of telling
how well we're doing?"

"Unfortunately not.  Just...hey, look, you're fading!"

"What does that mean?"

"You're being called back.  Wow.  Hope it lasts!"  Pendy waved cheerfully
before completely fading out of view.  Doyle blinked.  One moment that
weird cloud place and the next Angel's apartment.

"I just had the weirdest dream."  He sat up, rubbing his head.

"Were we all there?" Cordy's sarcastic voice called from beside him.

"No.  Anybody got a drink?"

"See, I told you those would be his first words.  Didn't I tell you?
Didn't I?"

Angel sighed while pouring a brandy.  "Yes, Cordy, you told me."

"Kudos to me," she enthused.

Greatfully, Doyle grabbed the glass and gulped it down.  "So, who's the
red-head."  He leered at her.  "And a mighty pretty one if I might say."

"That's Willow.  She brought you back.  Willow, Doyle."

"Nice to meet you."  The grin she sported practically split her face in
two.

Cordy snatched his glass away.  "You and I are going to have a talk, a long
talk.  I do NOT lose any more men to Willow."

"Can I have my drink back please?"

"And no more drinking."

"What?  No fuckin' way!"  Behind him he could see Angel and Willow laughing
into their hands, trying not to be obvious.

"Don't you love me?" Cordelia pouted.

"Well, yes, but - "

"Fine then."  She dumped his drink in the sink and then fixed a huge smile
on her face.  "As soon as we get home we're doing something about your
wardrobe."

Arghhhh!, Doyle thought internally, but semi-happily followed her out the
door.  After all, if this didn't work out, he could always convince the
powers that be to make him a bad guy.  That Pendy was one smart fella.
Thinking about Pendy, he turned back for just a second.

"Oh, hey, Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"Could we like use a lab assistant around here?  You know, to do forensic
stuff?  I know a great guy."

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