From: Sara VanLooy <foiwww@showme.missouri.edu>
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New Story: "Her Wings," 1/1
Date: Thu, 7 Dec 1995 15:29:45 -0600




And here I am again.

This is a short piece.  It's not got *any* original characters 
or concepts in it--just some character interaction.  Its a 
crossover--though I'm not going to say with what just yet.  
None of the characters in this are mine.  They are all used 
with love and respect but completely without permission.  

Rating--short and clean, but sad.  Completely PG.

Her Wings
by Sara VanLooy

The blast was loud and seemed to go on forever as the world 
turned black around her.  She fell heavily to the floor, keys 
still clutched in one hand.  Awareness was all but gone as 
time began to pour like a flooded river, pulling her along and 
only occasionally letting her glimpse what was passing.

The paramedics looked grim as they lifted her onto a strecher.  
"Its a bad one!  Call General and tell them we've got a Trauma 
case coming in!"  She could sense his sadness as he brushed a 
lock of red hair away from her face.

Doctors all around, working.  On her.  She could see them all. 
She could see herself--that was odd.  Very odd. Someone said, 
"You'd better call the next of kin.  Tell them to get down 
here soon."  An IV next to her head was loaded with something 
new, and suddenly she was pulled down, her vision faded, and 
the world was gone.

She was in a wood-panelled room.  A fire burned in a wide 
fireplace and she was sitting in a window seat, looking out 
and watching snow fall.  It took awhile to place the room--she 
hadn't been there in so long, but at last it drifted into her 
mind that this was her grandmother's living room in Norfolk.  
Which was in a house that had been sold when she was eight.

She could hear her mother's voice in the other room, but it 
didn't sound right.  Her mother sounded panicked.  "Where's my 
daughter?  I was told that my daughter was brought here!"
A man's voice, too hushed to hear more than pieces, almost 
murmurs, "gunshot wound. .  ." 

The voices drew closer to the door.  "Honey, its Mom, I'm 
here." her mom could be heard through the door.  She felt no 
urge to get up.  She was comfortable where she sat, warm and 
safe.  

The other voice again. "We've taken drastic precautions due to 
the nature of the head wound.  We've induced coma to try and 
relieve the trauma to the brain."

A voice spoke from inside the room.  "That means you'll be 
with me for awhile.  Feel free to explore." 

She looked up, startled, to see a black-draped figure moving 
away from her.  He glanced back at her once, and she saw a 
face fringed with wild dark hair, eyes that were so dark they 
weren't there.  Then he turned back and continued down the 
hall that had opened up in the wall to let him pass.  

Mom's voice again.  "Missy?  I'm here honey. I'm going to call 
your sister. Then I'll be right back."

Her sister.  That's right. She was going to her sister's, and 
apparently she'd been shot.  She was in a coma.  Just like her 
sister had been.  And she could hear her mother.  She was 
suddenly overwhelmed with relief that she'd believed in her 
sister, had sat by her and talked while Dana was -- away.  And 
she wanted to hear her sister's voice, speaking to her, even 
if it was only through this dream door.  

She tried to feel Dana's spirit, the way she often could.  She 
needed to know if her sister was alright.  Someone wanted to 
hurt Dana, kill her, and Missy was suddenly in a panic that 
Dana wasn't here because Dana was dead herself.  Reaching out, 
she felt something of her sister's emotions--fear and horror 
and shame.  And love.  She knew that Dana must have learned 
what had happened.  But something was wrong, because Dana was 
blocking her.  Was trying not to think about her--to keep her 
from feeling their bond.  Dana wasn't safe, didn't know who 
she could trust.  

Outside the door, voices came and went.  She paid most of them 
no attention at all.  Her mother's voice was always there, 
soft and reassuring.  Doctors hemmed and muttered, nurses 
clucked and cooed.  And she could't reach Dana.  

At last, she remembered what the black robed man had said. 
Feel free to explore.  Experimentally, she stretched her legs.  
Dream-legs maybe, but they seemed to work.  Her first step 
carried her through the window and into the snowy dawn.  

She could feel the cold, but wasn't bothered by it.  With one 
more look back over her shoulder, she moved away from the 
living room.  The voices receded behind her.  The air was 
crisp and clear, and she walked slowly, wondering at being in 
her grandmother's yard.  As she walked up the hill that led to 
the pasture, the snow faded, the light grew stronger, and she 
watched springtime roll in around her.  She wandered the 
pastures of her memory through spring and into summer, and she 
was happy.

In the hills of rural West Virginia, Dana stopped to catch her 
breath.  She had a stitch in her side, and had been running 
almost constantly for nearly an hour through pitch black 
woods.  Mulder plowed into her from behind, nearly knocking 
her down, and then stopped, too.  He bent double, gasping.  

"I don't think we were followed.  I haven't seen or heard 
anything." 

"Mulder, its dark and we've got to stop.  We have no idea 
where we are."

By unspoken agreement, they both sat down under the nearest 
tree.  They'd been running alongside a cow pasture, keeping to 
the trees, and the moonlight streamed through the fence to 
illuminate the night. 

"I'm so tired," she gasped. 

"Then you should sleep."  he said.

She leaned her head back against the bole of the tree and 
closed her eyes.  She didn't really think sleep would come, 
but it stole up on her and she let herself sink into it. And 
dreams came.

She looked up into a black sky, with stars scattered across 
gleaming with surreal brightness. It seemed that a face 
crossed the sky, but all she could see were eyes that weren't 
eyes, but stars.  And in her mind a voice said, "While you 
both are here, I can grant you time . . ."

Around her Dana could see green trees, grass.  The pasture 
wasn't the one she had fallen asleep by; it was familiar 
though.  And in the distance, she could see the shape of a 
young redheaded woman.  She walked towards her, until she 
could see that the woman was her sister.  Melissa looked up at 
her with a smile.  

"Dana!  You're here!  Are you alright?"

"I'm fine.  Or I will be fine.  I'm coming, Missy.  I'm coming 
to see you.  The worlds gone mad and you're the sanest one I 
know now."

"I know you'll be here, Dana.  I've been trying to reach you, 
to feel you.  I knew you were in trouble, I knew that's the 
only thing that would keep you away.  Mom has been so 
worried."

"Missy, why didn't you answer your phone?  I called you, I 
told you not to come.  You shouldn't have been there.  It 
should have been m-"

Her sister cut her off.  "We couldn't know, Dana.  We both 
sensed trouble.  Neither of us could know where it was 
hiding."

The sisters walked together across the field, and Dana noticed 
that where she had seen summer flowers before, colors were 
changing.  Fall progressed before their eyes and the grass 
faded and turned brittle.  They held hands tightly but were 
silent.  The brightly colored leaves began falling from the 
trees, swirling around them in red and gold eddies that looked 
like flames. Dana knew her time here was short, but she had so 
much she wanted to say that she didn't know where or how to 
begin. She turned to face her sister, took both hands in hers.  

"Missy, I'll be there--"

"You *are* here, now, Dana.  That's all I wanted."

"I love you Miss.  I'll get back, and you'll be better, and 
we'll . . . "  her voice failed, as she tried to think of all 
the things she wanted to do, all those things she'd put off 
for later, when there was more time.  Now suddenly she was out 
of time, with so much left undone and unsaid.  

The light was growing unbearably bright around them, making 
Dana squint to see her sister.  The trees were bare, and 
between them walked a dark man, who raised his hand as though 
to wave at her--

And she opened her eyes to find that light was dawning over 
their hiding place.  Mulder was leaning over her and softly 
calling her. 

"Scully, wake up.  Wake up.  It's time to get going."

She sat up stiffly, rubbed her eyes and found that her face 
was wet.  She surreptiously tried to wipe the tears away as 
Mulder studiously ignored her.  When she had regained her 
composure he turned, gently touched her shoulder.  

"We'll be back soon."

All that day, as they hiked into the tiny town, as they waited 
for Skinner to meet them, as they discussed their options, all 
Scully could think was "I'm coming, Miss.  I'll be there.  
I'll be there."  It was like a drumbeat in her head, almost 
drowning out the voices of the people around her.  "I'll be 
there.  I'll be there." They cut the deal with Skinner and she 
could see the disappointment in Mulder's eyes, but underneath 
it all was "I'll be there, I'll be there."  The ride back 
seemed like it took months, making inane words come out of her 
mouth while Mulder sulked in the backseat and her soul reached 
out to try to feel Missy and it took all her self control not 
to growl and reach over and stomp on the gas pedal to get them 
there just a bit sooner.  

"I'll be there."

Skinner dropped her at the hospital and she ran in, 
practically knocking nurses out of her path, running towards 
the room number Skinner gave her.  There were orderlies in 
Missy's room, gently putting her onto a stretcher.  They were 
going to do more surgery.  A doctor waived them aside, giving 
Dana a moment to stand by her sister, to touch her hair and 
hold her hand.  To whisper, "I'm here, Missy.  I'm so, so 
sorry," before they covered her with a blanket and pushed her 
and her machines out the door.  

Melissa was far from the house now, in a strange place that 
was so beautiful and green she didn't know how she could have 
not known it was here when she was a child.  There were birds 
she'd never seen, flowers so lovely they nearly brought her to 
tears.  And when she bent over a small pond, she saw her 
sister reflected in it.  Dana was crying, and reached for her 
hand, and when Melissa reached to touch the reflection she 
felt warm hands on her arm.  "I'm here, Missy," her sister 
said.  "I'm here."  and then the reflection was gone, and 
Melissa was alone.  

She wandered a short time longer, until she felt tired, and 
sat down on a warm rock.  She thought she might nap (sleeping 
in a dream seemed strange, but she suddenly felt heavy), when 
a voice startled her. 

"You've come a long way through my brother's lands.  You're 
almost on my grounds now.  Can I help you walk the rest of the 
way?"

Melissa looked up to see a dark-haired young woman dressed in 
scruffy black clothes and a large ankh necklace standing in 
front of her.  She seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.  
Her face was kind, and she smiled and stretched out a hand to 
help Missy to her feet to continue her journey.  

"That sounds nice.  Let's go,"  Missy said, and took the 
woman's hand.

Dana had been sitting alone in the waiting room for hours.  
Her mother had gone to lay down, didn't seem to want to be 
near her now.  The doctors had come out once to say that the 
damage was worse and that Missy's condition was very grave, 
but after that no one had come but a nurse who offered her 
coffee with silent sympathy.  Her thoughts were drifting--now 
that she was actually here, she was trying to understand 
everything that had happened over the last week, everything 
she had seen.  

Sudennly she knew, just knew, that something was wrong.  She 
could feel Missy the way she had been able to as a little 
girl, but she was so far away.  

>From a distance, Dana heard her sister's voice, dreamlike. "I 
love you, little sister."  She closed her eyes and for just an 
instant saw her walking away at the side of another figure.

Then from the darkness Dana heard the beating of mighty wings.

******  END *********


There.  Not too original.  Dream and Death and their realms 
are the property of Neil Gaiman and DC/Vertigo. They are used 
without permission.  I express my gratitude to NG for "The 
Sound of her Wings," which I first read at a very difficult 
time of my life and which still has the power to make me cry.