Chapter Text
Snap.
Welcome! Everything is fine.
It was the first thing Robin saw as she opened her eyes. The giant text on the wall in front of her, in bright green letters in a simple yet calming font. She’d never seen this wall before, she couldn’t quite remember how she’d got here, or where here was, or why she was here. But everything seemed… fine.
A door on the left of the office-like room opened, and a smiling man greeted her. “Robin! Why don’t you come on in?”
In most scenarios, when one wakes up in a strange clinical setting with seemingly no one but an old white man around, one would feel uneasy. Maybe the wall’s decal was working its magic, but strangely, Robin felt at peace. And anyways, it was probably just a weird dream.
She entered the man’s office. A bowl of paperclips sat on display in the middle of the room. On the wall, there was a framed photo of what looked like a frat guy, titled ‘Doug Forcett’. Perhaps this man was Doug Forcett, and he was a self-obsessed guy who frames photos of his younger self. The man sat at his desk, ushering Robin into the chair opposite his own. She obliged.
“Okay… you, Robin Buckley, are dead.” he said. “I’m sorry about that.”
Robin’s mouth dropped open. She felt the itchy fabric of the chair. It felt real, the dusty air felt detailed, the man’s face was clear. Either this was one of those moments in dreams where one decides it’s definitely not a dream, only to wake up two minutes later, or Robin Buckley really was dead.
Was Doug Forcett God?
“But…” Unidentified man slash Doug Forcett slash God continued. “…not to worry. You are in The Good Place.”
“So… heaven?” Robin stammered out.
“It’s not completely accurate to the Heaven you know from Earth, but in essence, yes. Heaven. Well done, Robin.” he smiled.
Robin leaned back in the chair. “Christ, I owe my mom an apology for not believing her.” she exhaled. “Oh… should I say Christ? Are you Christ? Does Jesus share his last name with you? I’m not completely caught up on the Bible, it’s been a while. I grew up Catholic but-”
“-I’m not God, Robin. My name is Michael. I’m the architect of this neighbourhood.” Michael explained. “You see, The Good Place is split up into separate neighbourhoods. Around three hundred people in each one, give or take. I designed this one. Between you and me, it’s my first one. I’m a little nervous, forgive me.” he chuckled.
Robin laughed in disbelief. “Oh! Well, that’s okay. It’s my first time dying, so… I guess we’re both new at this.”
The neighbourhood was quaint. That felt like the perfect word. Not in the way Hawkins had been, where Main Street was boxes of buildings, Mom and Pop stores that looked untouched since the eighties, complete with a Dollar General. In The Good Place’s Main Street, the streets curved and cobbled, the buildings actually had interesting looking roofs, and most importantly, people smiled. Robin could get used to this.
Her house was… interesting. A minimalist design with clown paintings hung up on every wall. It was probably the default design for every house, maybe the afterlife hadn’t been clued in to the fact that clowns were no longer fun and whimsical on Earth. And it only looked minimalist because Robin hadn’t decorated, yet. That could be fixed.
“So, this is your house.” Michael led her inside. “It’s a primitive Icelandic design, I know you spent some time in Iceland. Oh! I forgot to show you, I love this part.” He pulled up a screen, floating in the air ‘Minority Report’-style. “With this, you can view any and all of your memories from Earth.”
So many to choose from. Robin didn’t feel particularly bothered by any of them.
“This was your relief mission, helping the children of developing countries get a good education.” he said, playing a video of someone helping children.
It definitely wasn’t Robin.
“Oh! And this… this was your wedding day. A breezy, autumnal Paris afternoon.” She watched a woman declare her undying love for her. She’d never seen the woman in her life.
Even Heavenly computers got it wrong sometimes. “Uh, Michael, I think these memories are someone else’s…”
Her eyes glanced back to the woman on the screen, reciting her vows. “I promise to love you forever, Robin Buckley.”
“…to watch, I mean, I’m way too humble and proud to go back and relive my glory days! I’m all about living in the present! Let my… fellow neighbours see these, if they want to.” She bit down on her tongue to stop herself from talking.
The woman wasn’t her wife, even if she was marrying Robin Buckley. Robin Buckley had never been to Paris, or Iceland, never helped children go to school, never even had children of her own. She was born in Hawkins, Indiana, and had evidently died in Hawkins, Indiana.
And she wasn’t meant to be here.
Even Heavenly computers got it wrong sometimes.
There was a knock on the front door, soft and gentle. The kind of knock you’d hear in a place called The Good Place. “Ah, come in!” Michael announced.
A woman stepped inside, shy with a polite smile on her face. She was pretty, with curled brunette hair, pointed jawline and dressed to the nines in pastel. She waved timidly at Robin, a small ring rested around her index finger. Robin stuck her hand up like she was surrendering.
“This is Nancy Wheeler. She is your soulmate.” Michael explained. As if this day couldn’t get stranger.
“Hey.” Nancy approached Robin. “It’s… good to meet you.” she seemed reserved, as if she was holding back an excitement she was too nervous to express. Robin hoped to god the girl wasn’t paying as much attention to Robin’s body language as Robin was hers. She was pretty certain she’d sweated through her shirt by now, despite the temperature being perfect.
“Nancy is an investigative journalist from New York. She’s uncovered many scandals in her time, helped a lot of people.” Michael said. “Basically, she was good at finding the truth.”
Robin laughed nervously. “Wow! That’s… impressive.”
“Please, I did it because I loved it, not to be impressive.” Nancy said. “What did you do?”
Robin looked at Michael for an answer, because it was now clear ‘small town radio DJ’ wasn’t the correct answer anymore. “I- I don’t like to toot my own horn!”
“Of course not.” Michael laughed. “Tell you what, I’ll leave you two to get to know each other. There’s no rush, you have eternity, of course.”
The door closed behind Michael, leaving Robin just a little bit more at ease. But apparently she’d been given a blind date with fucking Sherlock Holmes, so there wasn’t much opportunity to relax. She could still feel her heart beat a mile a minute, which was especially impressive considering she technically shouldn’t have one at all.
“So… investigative journalist. Sounds intense.” Robin said. “What did you investigate?”
Nancy shrugged. “A lot of stuff, really. Political scandals, money laundering schemes, a lot of fraud. I’m not, like, taking down crime or anything, but even just getting the word out there that stuff like that happens lets people open up about their own experiences. Spreads awareness like a… disease. A good disease!” Nancy winced at herself. “I’m a little nervous, sorry.”
“You and me both.” Robin laughed. “So, you were like a detective?”
“I wish I could say no, but they didn’t call me Nancy Drew relentlessly in high school for no reason. I’m not a cop, or anything. But I like a mystery, and I like solving it.”
Robin decided pretty quickly that she couldn’t spend the rest of eternity lying to this woman even if she wanted to. And weirdly enough, she didn’t. She was sweet and funny and any reason to lie to her didn’t feel fair or even worth it.
“Look, Nancy, I think I need to tell you something.” Robin took a seat on the Icelandic couch. “That video up there-”
“-Your wedding day.” Nancy sat besides Robin. “I’m not married, I was single on Earth, but we can take this as slowly as you want. I don’t want to replace your wife.”
“That’s… very sweet. But…” Robin collected herself. Was she really going to do this? “But that’s not my wife. That’s not my memory. That’s not… me.”
Nancy stared at her. “I don’t- I don’t understand.”
“I’m Robin Buckley, they got that right. But I’m just a radio DJ from a middle of nowhere town in Indiana. I’ve never been to Paris, or anywhere, really. And I really don’t think I’m supposed to be here.” Robin said, as slow as she could.
Nancy looked down, wringing her hands. “Huh…”
“I know this is a lot to ask, especially to someone I met five minutes ago. But if I’m not supposed to be here, then I think I’m supposed to be… down there.”
“The Bad Place?”
“I guess.” Robin nodded. “I don’t think I deserve that. Actually, I know I don’t. Okay, I haven’t saved lives or changed the world but I was a good person. I never committed any crimes, I never treated someone differently because of who they were, I’ve always been respectful and honest and decent. Please, Nancy. Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Then why did you tell me?” Nancy looked up at her. Her eyes were big and blue. “If you don’t want anyone to know.”
“I figured you’d find out. Being an investigative journalist.” That sounded harsh. “And also… you’re a nice person. And if we have to spend eternity together, soulmates or not, I don’t think it’s fair to lie to you.”
Nancy stood up abruptly. “Can I think about it?” she paced back and forth at power-walking speed. “Just, I’ve already had ten other massive bombs dropped on me today, you know? Last thing I remember it was three o’clock in the morning and I was breaking into an old farmhouse because I thought a dog fighting ring was in there. And now I’m in Heaven, and I have a soulmate, but she’s not my soulmate, she’s just a fraud-”
“-Woah.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I am, just… I can’t…” Nancy sat back down. Robin was almost positive breathing was no longer necessary, but the poor girl was still really struggling to do it.
“Okay, okay. You’re okay.” Robin sucked in a deep, inconsequential breath. “Breathe with me.”
Nancy laughed through a deep breath. “This is pointless, right?”
“Yeah, a little.” Robin laughed with her. “Next time you feel like you can’t breathe, just remember you don’t need to. What’s the worst that can happen if you don’t, right?”
“I… guess that’s true. Huh.” Nancy calmed herself down. “I believe you, when you say you’re a good person. It’s just… a lot to take in.”
“I know. How about a trial run? I have a week to prove I deserve to be here. If I fail, by your standards, then you can snitch.” Robin suggested.
“I’d prefer ‘politely let Michael know’ rather than ‘snitch’, but okay. One week.” she took Robin’s hand into a firm handshake.
“So, how did you die? Actually, that might be rude. Forget I said anything. I am a good person. I just heard about the dog fighting ring and my brain was like woah! but, no, that’s… that’s not appropriate.”
Nancy laughed, a genuine real laugh that didn’t sound like mocking or the polite laughter you give to your fake soulmate. It was almost infectious. A good disease. “You talk a lot, I get why you’re a radio DJ. And the answer to your inappropriate question is ‘I don’t know’. I think they erase that memory. That’s probably a good thing. I think being mauled to death by a pack of dogs is a sure-fire way to ruin dogs for me forever. At least this way it might not be that.”
“Hm. Schrödinger’s dog.” Robin chuckled to herself. “I don’t even have any idea. Last thing I remember… I was driving. Must’ve been a car crash.”
“Classic.” Nancy said. “Where were you going?”
The memory hit Robin like a truck, which for all she knew could be literal. “Oh. I was going to the airport… to Paris.”
“Your fake wedding destination? I thought you’d never been.” Nancy asked.
“Yeah, well, clearly I didn’t make it. I’d saved up for years, finally getting out of my hometown.” Robin said.
“That bad?”
“That boring, more like.” Robin shook her head. “It was fine, menial. I went to work and then went home. Counted my pay checks until I finally had enough for a plane ticket. That was my life. I’d hate to read my obituary.”
“I’d hate to read mine, I’m sure it’d just sound like a resumé.” Nancy huffed. “Here lies Nancy Wheeler. Flexible salary, highly recommended.”
“What about family?”
“My mom is… I was gonna say no longer with us but I suppose that’s not true anymore. She died, not that long ago. My dad, well, I heard his eulogy for his wife, I’d rather die than have him write mine.”
“Well, technically-”
“-yeah, I know. I have two siblings. Mike loved me deep down, I’m sure he could write something nice. Holly’s only sixteen. We barely grew up together before I went to college, got a job and got too busy.” Nancy sighed. “The most she’ll remember of me is Christmas and Thanksgivings where I was always on the phone or stuck at my laptop in my childhood-bedroom-turned-Dad’s-office. What about you?”
“No siblings. Dad left when I was young. Maybe Mom will do something nice. I didn’t really have any friends.”
“Join the club.” Nancy looked Robin in the eyes, and smiled. “Soulmates.”
Robin grinned. “If you don’t rat me out.”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The neighbourhood’s welcome party was hosted by Robin’s next door neighbour. The first time she’d noticed his house, she’d almost fainted, and then wondered how she hadn’t noticed it before. It was fucking massive, complete with fountains, a pool, a guest house (which was still bigger than Robin’s house), and more windows than walls. LED lights lit up the driveway, marble pathways leading up to deep black double-doors that looked like it had just been painted (which it might’ve been).
Robin knocked, and the doors opened on their own. She’d half expected a butler to greet her, but this was the Good Place. She couldn’t imagine butlers would exist here. The entrance hall was lively, maybe thirty people all chattering. She pushed past them all, searching for pastel and soft, brown curls in the crowd. The less people she had to talk to, the better, and leaning on Nancy to make most of the conversation was a good way to not slip up.
“You’re late.” Nancy snuck up behind her. “You live right next door.”
“Fashionably late, thank you very much.” Robin replied. “Who even owns this place? I kind of assumed all rich people were automatically going, you know, downwards.”
“Steve Harrington.” Nancy rattled off, as if Robin wasn’t supposed to recognise the name. “Oh, right. I wrote an article on his family once. His dad was a philanthropist, donated a lot of money. Steve must’ve followed in his footsteps, I guess.”
“So he’s a trust fund baby?” Robin scowled. “If I ever had the money I would’ve donated to charity, too. Just saying. Where’s my good person points?”
“Yeah, it sucks.” Nancy sighed. “But he’s still in the Good Place, so he must be a good person. Play nice.”
Robin passed the bar as Nancy led her to the host. She took a shot, or two. She’d need them if this entire night was kissing ass to rich, straight, white men.
Nancy didn’t hesitate to introduce herself to the man himself, reaching out her hand for him to shake. He hovered, before taking it. “Steve Harrington. I’m sorry, you are?” he said, in the rich, smug way where he sounded like he didn’t really care that he didn’t know you.
“Nancy Wheeler. I was a journalist on Earth, I wrote an article on your father, actually.” she said.
Steve laughed. “Which one?”
“It… was mainly about his charity work.” Nancy said, her eyes squinting in suspicion, as if she’d only just clocked that this guy was a total dick.
“Ah! Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Steve breathed a clear sigh of relief. Robin smirked, hoping to god there was an internet in this world to find the articles about his father Nancy hadn’t written. “Oh! Yes, this is my- my uh, my partner, Edward.”
Rich? Undoubtedly. White? Almost certainly. Straight? Not so much.
Steve seemed just as surprised as Robin. “Edward was a cellist with the Philadelphia Orchestra.” he bragged.
“It used to be called the Philadelphia Philharmonic Orchestra but we decided it was a bit much.” Edward joked. Robin had played mellophone for her high school’s marching band, but that was pretty much the stop and start of her music career (outside of switching tracks in a radio station). She wasn’t keen on looking stupid in front of Edward the renowned cellist, and so kept that fact to herself.
She watched as Nancy continued to make small talk with the two men with ease. Robin couldn’t figure it out, how she somehow knew exactly what to say to get on their good side, having long conversations without saying anything of real interest. Robin slipped away for a moment, making her way back to the bar to gulp down another two shots. What was the harm? This place probably didn’t have hangovers, anyways.
She returned back to the group at just the wrong time, hearing Steve telling the tale of how he had profited off of some developing country.
“You know, it was eye opening, what these people did to survive on a daily basis. I just knew I had to do something about it, so I-”
“-What did you do?” Robin slurred a little.
Steve hesitated, glancing at Eddie with the classic ‘look at how ridiculous the person in front of me is’ side-eye. “I was… getting to that. We set up an auction, got a few big names involved, we raised a lot.”
“So, you asked a bunch of people poorer than you to give you the money?” Robin scoffed.
Steve blinked furiously. “If I, personally, donated to every fund in existence, I'd go bankrupt.”
“So, you expect us to do it instead. Like a bad Robin Hood. Take from the poor to give to the poorer.” she said, and then mumbled, “but who knows how much of the money actually went to them.”
It was more than loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Alright, enough of the crusade. I’m in The Good Place. That didn’t just happen for no reason.”
“Yeah, well maybe some of us deserve to be here more than others.” Robin spat, feeling a hand grab at her arm.
“Okay! I think it’s time my soulmate and I head home. She’s- she’s processing. We’ve all just died, we get it. It’s-it’s hard.” Nancy stammered, suddenly losing the smooth conversational skills she possessed two minutes ago. “It was really nice to meet you.”
She dragged Robin away, and once far enough from the party to be out of earshot, turned to face the girl with a look that could only be described as rage.
Robin opened her mouth. “I’m sorry, but they were ash-holes… ash-holes… why can’t I swear?-”
“-Are you insane?!” Nancy cried. “Look, he’s full of it, I get it. But if you want to last more than a week here, you’re going to have to stop yourself from pulling a stunt like that again.”
Robin conceded. “I know, I was stupid, okay? But, just… him? Him, and not me?” She felt tears prick in her eyes. “Okay, maybe I wasn’t an activist or a philanthropist or a fucking investigative journalist. But I also wasn’t a dick. That had to have counted for something.”
“It should.” Nancy agreed.
“I won’t lash out again. Just- I spent my whole life searching for a better place. Out of Hawkins, out of America. And now I’m in the best place there is, and I still don’t belong. What if this whole time it’s just been me? Not the location, me.”
Nancy shrugged. “I don’t know you, or what you were like on Earth. But if you want to belong here, you can. It’s not about what you did on Earth anymore, okay? It’s about what you’re going to do here.”
Five months earlier
Hawkins, Earth
“Robin Buckley?”
Robin turned on her seat to find a woman smiling at her. Short red hair, rosy pink cheeks, vaguely recognisable. “Uh, sorry, do I…”
“Vickie… Carmichael. We went to high school together.” she said, approaching the bar. It dawned on Robin, Vickie was in band. They never really had much to do with each other but she always seemed nice (or nicer than most band kids tended to be). “I’m so sorry to interrupt, I’ve just been listening to your show since… since you started! I guess I’m kind of a fan.”
Robin chuckled. “It’s a little hard not to be, the only other radio station in Hawkins exclusively plays Jesus songs. But thank you for listening, seriously. You’re probably paying for my drink right now.”
Vickie nodded, blushing a little, and hesitated on her spot.
“Oh! Take a seat, please.” Robin pulled out a barstool. “And hey, why don’t I pay for your drink, this time?”
The woman accepted, ordering a martini. “You know, I kind of had a bit of a crush on you in high school.”
“Oh?” Robin couldn’t conceptualise anyone having a crush on her in high school. Lanky, awkward, sat in the back of the class in silence. No one wants that.
“And then, a couple months ago you did that segment on being gay in Hawkins. It actually made me realise that I’m bi.” Vickie confessed. “So, thank you for that.”
“Wow, that’s… I did not realise my stupid radio show could have that much of an impact. I thought only dads listened to me because I play the old school hits.”
Vickie smiled, dimples on her cheeks. “Hey, why don’t we go out for dinner? Catch up a bit more.” she asked.
Robin hesitated. Vickie was nice, but was there any point? “Uh, look. I don’t wanna lead you on, or anything. But, I’m moving pretty soon, to Paris.”
“Oh, wow! That’s… sorry, I’m confused?” Vickie asked.
“I just don’t wanna get tied down.” Robin bit at her lip. This sucked. Did all rejections suck this much, or did Robin have a habit of making it as shitty as possible?
Vickie nodded solemnly, and Robin got the impression she didn’t truly believe the excuse. “Right… well, it was good to see you. I hope Paris is all it’s cracked up to be.”
Robin pinched the bridge of her nose in shame. “Yeah, I hope so too…”
Present day
The Good Place
Robin awoke the next morning to something of a symphony. Someone, somewhere, was blasting orchestral music at full volume, and Robin had a pretty good guess of who. She checked her clock, 6:30.
6:30am shouldn’t be allowed to exist in Heaven.
She flung out of bed, preparing to give that Edward guy a talking to about rehearsing at ridiculous o’clock, before hearing Nancy’s words echo in her head, and her promise to not cause a scene anymore.
Did it make a difference if Edward was the one causing the scene? Ah, fuck it.
She swung open the front door and quickly realised it wasn’t Edward playing the music. It was loud, insanely loud and seemed to come from no discernible direction. As if God himself was playing the Cello. But it couldn’t be God, she’d met God and he didn’t seem like the musical type.
And that’s when she noticed everything else.
The hundred dollar bills raining from the sky, the people dressed as Robin Hood. In fact, everyone in the neighbourhood was dressed in the garish green fabric with a silly pointed hat.
Everyone except Robin.
“Robin!” Nancy found her soulmate.
“What is happening?!” Robin yelled over the music.
“Don’t you get it? The money, the music, the outfits. And… Robin, you’re the only one dressed normally.” Nancy said, the investigative side of her kicking in.
“Oh… it’s me.” Robin realised. “I’m causing this.”