# Until It Is Done

Title: Until It Is Done
Status: Complete
Characters: Anon
Rating: SFW
Classification: One Shot
Author: Anonymous
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For weeks after it happened, Anon had been shattered by the shock. Denial rotted into gut-wrenching pain, then anger - at himself, at Fang, at the world. He had bargained, he had fallen into the depths of depression, but in the final stages of grief he refused to accept what had happened.
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He found both solace and a sliver of hope, in a faith he had once mocked on his Bhutanese hang gliding circle. He returned to the church his parents had attended, and was welcomed. Days were spent in a series of menial labour jobs that left his arms bulging and his back on fire; nights were spent feeding the hungry in the company of other faithful, or as he grew older, counselling troubled youth. Any free time was spent at the shooting range, gym, or in church. In those times he was lonely even when he was with others, disconnected from most of the good deeds he did, though the occasional flash of anger or sentiment shone through when he was reminded of her. He never married, and never sought or found love from another.
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He died early, in his late thirties. They said it was stress, loneliness, and sorrow; that his heart just gave out from carrying the weight of his past. His funeral was small, as he had no friends outside his fellow faithful and those they had ministered to, but he was genuinely missed. Some boys and girls he’d counselled as children cried for him as adults. The congregation left a handful of small trinkets and photographs on his grave, beside the flowers the funeral home had delivered. Nobody who had attended Volcano High with him showed up, or even knew.
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They all agreed he had been a good man, at the reception after the funeral, but nobody said he had been taken too early. They didn’t want to disrespect him by saying it out loud, but his death had been a blessed release, not a tragedy.
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~~~
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Anon stood in front of the pearly gates, staring at Saint Peter with a face like granite.
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The big guy said “You can come in, you know. You’ve well and truly atoned.”
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Anon shook his head.
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Saint Peter looked at him with sad eyes across the desk. “All you ever had to do was really, truly, regret what you did, and embrace Him. You didn’t throw your life away, you did good in the world, but you had an opportunity to move on from it. You still can. You’ve still got your whole immortal life in front of you.”
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Anon shook his head again.
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The disciple sighed. “And now, you want to go to hell. You want to find her, and you want the heaven-sent powers necessary to ‘restore her in light’.”
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Anon nodded.
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“And you’ve taken an oath of silence until you find her, probably because you know I’ll have a harder time talking you out of this idiocy if I can’t ask you to speak.”
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Anon nodded and crossed his arms, then mimed looking at a watch and began tapping his foot.
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Saint Peter massaged his temples with the ball of his thumb and his forefinger. Some days, it was really hard to deal with the dead.
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~~~
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Anon pulled the straps tight on the boots, and shrugged on the armour. Biceps and powerful abdominal muscles bulged against the green breastplate.
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Saint Peter had explained it all to him. “Cultural expectations inform your view of hell. Everyone sees what they expect to see. If you were living in Florence in the time of the Medicis, you might see Dante’s Inferno. Since you lived in America at the start of the 21st century...”
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He pulled the helmet down over his bald head, picked up the shotgun beside him, and set off into the tunnels. She was out there somewhere, and he had all the time in the world to find her.
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For his Fang, he would rip and tear the guts of hell apart, no matter how huge they were.