You're in Limbo, mate. It's neither here nor there.

The Mighty Boosh

The next morning, Julian feels slightly better, or at least slightly less terrible, when he wakes up. He is allowed to bathe himself, soaking in a deep tub of hot water imbued with some sort of herbal essence that allays much of the pain in his aching limbs.

He is given pyjamas to change into, blue and white striped ones, instead of the green nightshirt he's been wearing. Mary brings him boiled eggs for breakfast with thin strips of toast to dunk into them, and best of all, a mug of tea. A mug of really strong, hot tea, just the way Julian likes it. It is, in fact, the best tea he has ever drunk.

Julian takes a nap after breakfast, already fatigued by washing and eating, but this time it feels more like a normal sleep, and less as if he's been drugged. When he opens his eyes in the late morning, Mary brings him another cup of the cold fluid, and wipes his hands and face with a warm, damp cloth.

"I have a visitor for you," she smiles.

Julian has an intense, foolish hope it will the boy he saw fleetingly in his mind. Instead it turns out to be a man with a high forehead, a pointed black beard on his chin, and a grave, searching expression. There is nothing handsome about him, yet he has what Julian can only think of as an intellectual beauty. He is dressed in a dark blue uniform, and carrying what looks like a notebook.

"Good morning, Julian," the man says. His voice is quiet, but compelling. "My name is Marcus Hoffman." He comes to the bedside and offers Julian his hand.

"Are you my doctor?" Julian asks, shaking the man's hand. His handshake is firm and reassuring.

"What makes you think I'm a doctor?" Marcus asks, sitting in the chair beside the bed, and fixing Julian with an eagle-eyed gaze.

Julian wonders that too. "Well ... I sort of thought that Mary was my nurse, so I thought you might be my doctor or my specialist," he says at last.

"Mary isn't a nurse, she's a very gifted Healer with a great amount of skill and experience," Marcus says. "You've been assigned one of the best Healers we have, and are receiving excellent treatment. The fact you are making such a rapid recovery is testament to that."

"Um, sorry," Julian says. "It's just different to what I'm used to."

"I'm your Case Worker," Marcus says, opening his leatherbound notebook. "I'm here to assist you through the Afterlife process. First of all, can I check your name? It's Julian Barratt?"

"Yeah. Well, Julian Barratt Pettifer. I use Julian Barratt professionally, because there's already a Julian Pettifer, if you get me. I mean, I used Julian Barratt. Not that I did much professionally, anyway."

"Julian Pettifer, good. Date of birth?"

"The 4th of May, 1968."

Marcus writes this down. "Do you have any questions?"

"Would it be too much of a cliché to ask where I am?"

There is a thin smile from Marcus as he says, "It's natural, at least. You have reached the Afterlife, and this is a Waystation where people can rest and recover before they go on."

"How long have I been here?"

"According to the notes Mary has given me," Marcus says, reading from a sheet of paper, "you were brought here by taxi, and were completely unconscious for two days, then had moments of lucidity yesterday. So today is your fourth day."

"Is that ... four days in reality? I mean, did I die four days ago?"

"There is no correlation between time here and time on Earth," Marcus says. "Four days here might be ten years on Earth, or five seconds, or no time at all."

"And I'm definitely dead?"

"Yes. I know it's a lot to take in, and it's quite normal to feel doubtful about that," Marcus says. "The transition from life to death can take a while to adjust to, and your Healer is the best person to help you through that."

Julian looks unsure, then says, "I keep hearing my mother. Not all the time, mostly as I'm falling asleep or waking up. I can hear her talking to me, and I can even feel her touching me. Is she ... communicating with me somehow?"

Marcus shakes his head regretfully. "Most likely they are memories. You died in a coma, and that can cause a significant rupture in your mental and emotional state for a while. Have you talked about this with your Healer?"

"Yes," Julian says. "Mary said much the same thing. They were dreams and memories getting confused in my mind, and to let go of them."

"Mary is very wise," Marcus smiles. "Anything else?"

There is a long hesitation, then Julian says in some embarrassment, "The other thing is even more nebulous. I saw a white face. A boy's face, I think. And it felt as if I knew him."

"Perhaps a memory of one of the Healers who helped you from the taxi?" Marcus suggests. "I'm sure there's a logical explanation, but it's best if you don't dwell on these things. Would you mind if I ask you a few questions now?"

"Alright."

Marcus looks Julian straight in the eyes. "Do you remember how you died?"

Julian glances away and mumbles, "Yeah, I do."

"You know that it was at your own instigation?"

"Yes."

Marcus looks down at his notebook, makes a mark on the paper, and says, "That's a very challenging way to arrive here, which is one of the reasons you're finding it difficult."

"Because it's a sin?" Julian hazards.

A slight look of distaste flashes across Marcus' face before he says evenly, "We don't use terminology like that here. We don't find it helpful. But cutting your life short has left you with some consequences."

"It was my life," Julian points out with a touch of truculence .

"Of course. Which means that you stopped yourself from living the life you should have, and achieving everything you were born to do."

"Why, what would have happened if I'd lived?" Julian asks curiously.

Marcus pauses briefly before saying, "Julian, I promise I will never lie to you. In fact, it isn't possible to lie here, as you will discover. But I won't answer your question, because you're not ready for that information."

Julian looks disappointed, but nods to show he understands.

"May I ask why you did it?" Marcus asks.

"Oh ... I felt such a failure," Julian says uncomfortably. "You know, I never got anywhere much with my band, so I went to uni, but the course wasn't what I'd been expecting, and I dropped out to do stand-up comedy fulltime. Everyone said I was mad. Maybe I was."

"It's a great act of courage to leave a safe path for something far more risky," Marcus tells him. "You followed your passion."

"Except I was a failure, just like everyone said I would be," Julian says flatly. "The night before ... I came here, I absolutely died onstage. I was heckled, and even my posters were vandalised. I couldn't do it. I'd failed. There was no one I could call, because I knew they'd all say, Go back to uni then. I was drunk and unhappy, and realised I'd been arrogant enough not to have any back-up plan. And, I don't know, I walked around and around in the dark and wet getting colder and more miserable, and ... I threw myself into the lake. The lake at my uni, ironically enough. I'd just had enough."

"So you killed yourself without forethought?" Marcus queries. "It wasn't something you planned, but did on the spur of the moment, while in a state of deep despair, not thinking clearly?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Julian agrees. 

Marcus makes another note of that.

"Do you think it's possible you had been suffering from undiagnosed anxiety or depression?" Marcus asks.

"I suppose it's possible," Julian admits. "I'd been pretty down for a while, but I never saw a doctor about it or anything."

"Well, I'll write it down. Never hurts to write it down," Marcus says, scribbling away. "Were there any other factors involved in your death I should know about?"

There is a long silence from Julian, who looks as if he is trying to reach a decision, before he says diffidently, "I'd realised a few years before that I was sort of attracted to other blokes. I mean, as well as to women."

"And how did that affect you?"

"Oh ... I wasn't sure what it meant, how it would fit into my life," Julian says uncomfortably. "It was confusing. And then, I had a sort of snog with someone at a party, someone I didn't really know that well. He wanted to take it further, but I ... I couldn't go through with it."

"And why was that?"

"I didn't really want my first time with a guy to be some drunken grope with a stranger I didn't give a shit about," Julian says.

"That's very noble," Marcus says in a voice devoid of all expression. "Being prepared to wait for a more meaningful intimate encounter."

Julian flushes. "I wasn't noble. Oh, all right. I was frightened, okay? I was scared I'd make a mess of it, or I'd hate it, or I'd like it too much, or I'd lose control, or it was all some kind of game, or a trap. I was bloody scared of everything."

"And when did this happen?"

"About a month before ... a month before the comedy gig. I'd failed at everything. Music, uni, comedy, sex. It just all ... it all came to a head at once, and just for that moment, I couldn't go on."

"I will make a note of that in your file," Marcus says. "Thank you for your honesty. I think it's going to help me build a case in your support."

"Wait a minute – what do you mean, a case? Am I in some sort of trouble?"

Marcus pauses, then says, "Julian, do you have any particular spiritual background?"

"I suppose you could say I'm a lapsed Catholic. I mean, I haven't been to church since I was fourteen, and most of my family's not really that religious. I didn't get much more from it than the usual Catholic guilt. And ... I don't know. I tell people I'm an atheist, but I think I do believe in something. I just don't know what it is."

"Try to leave all those labels behind, if you can," Marcus advises. "Catholic, religious, atheist – they're not very useful. You see, when people arrive at the Waystation, they are assessed to see what should be their next step. If they're ready, they move Forward."

"To ... Heaven?"

"That word gets mixed up with some very silly ideas," Marcus says, not quite pleased. "But it's a close enough analogy, I suppose. However, very few people are ready for that. Many of them will move ... Sideways. They will need further work and study, but eventually they will all move Forward too. When they are ready to do so."

"They just need more time?"

"Yes. More time than life on Earth allows. And some people will be returned to Earth for another lifetime, more earthly experience, before being assessed again. But no matter how many lifetimes it takes, how many years of struggle, the end point is the same for everyone. Eventually every single one of us will go Forward."

"So I'm here to be judged?" Julian says, starting to look frightened.

"No, no. Nobody here will judge you," Marcus says soothingly. "It's a review, an assessment, that's all."

"And who makes the final decision?" Julian demands.

Marcus frowns in displeasure before he grudgingly admits, "Well, a judge. But not a judgemental sort of judge."

"Oh my God. You're not my doctor – you're my bloody lawyer!" Julian shouts. "I'm going to be put on trial."

"I don't use those words with my clients," Marcus says stiffly. "It's not a trial, and I'm not a lawyer. You will be assessed, and I will be helping you put your case forward in support of that assessment."

"Yeah, the thing is Marcus, I'm fucking shit at being assessed," Julian says in agitation. "Exams, interviews, reviews, auditions – I always go to fucking pieces, I'm a mess. I can't do this."

"Please, calm yourself, Julian," Marcus says, patting his arm. "There's nothing to worry about. I'll be making the submission on your behalf. It's all routine stuff."

"So what am I looking at – a life sentence?" Julian says bitterly. "Or can you get the charges dropped?"

"I'm going to be completely candid with you, Julian," Marcus says, looking through his notes. "There isn't a chance that the judge will assess you as ready to move Forward yet. Because you didn't allow your life to end naturally, there's a real possibility they will decide to send you Back to Earth for another lifetime."

"Jesus Christ, no! I fucked my last life up, what if I do it again?" Julian says in horror.

"I will be making a very strong submission that you ended your own life in a sudden moment of despair, based on a number of mitigating factors," Marcus says, tapping his notebook for emphasis. "I will argue strenuously that by moving Sideways, you will have the opportunity to learn all the lessons you would have learned, had you remained alive on Earth."

"Throw myself on the mercy of the court, you mean?" Julian says moodily.

"Please stop thinking of it in such terms," Marcus begs. "You've got a good case, and I need you to remain hopeful. I give you my word, I will be indefatigable in working on your behalf, and will be your ally in all things. I may not be your lawyer, but I promise to be your staunchest advocate."

"I suppose that's what you are," Julian says, staring at Marcus. "Not the Devil's, but the Human's Advocate."