Title: An Angel With Broken Wings
Author: Dana E. Vassy
Rating: PG
Category: MSR, other POV
Spoilers: None, this is my own private theatre
Distribution: anywhere and everywhere. Keep my name on it and give me a site location at scullys_no_slut@viceprez.fsnet.co.uk
Disclaimer: Chris, you alone are the Surfer God, Vince is secondary Lord. We worship you, we give you thanks, we praise you for your glory. So just let this little blip go…Fox and 1013 - think of the terrible publicity for suing an insane person! Anne Marie is mine; I suppose you can borrow, if you ask nicely
Author's Notes: Anne Marie is loosely based on a combination of me, my mother Elaine, and another special person. The way she eats is attributed to Tim. He made me cry uncontrollably in a French restaurant by asking if I was going to eat my salad after I stabbed it to death…come on, I was only seven. I got the imagery from the Madonna song 'I'll Remember'.
* * * * * * * * * *
Anne Marie POV
* * * * * * * * * *
I glare at the horrible lettering on the glass door that signals my presence here. Ugly though it may be, I soften as I take in what that lettering spells. Anne Marie McCandless LL.B., Dip. My American qualifications have yet to be added, but I am content to see the reminder of my education in Britain. It seems like a different lifetime, yet it was only two short years ago I left my firm in London. A cautious rap on the glass halts my nostalgic daydream.
As I shout some banal greeting, my friend and client Dana, enters the room. She seems a little subdued. I put it down to missing her recently deceased mother and try to brighten the mood. I take out the files for her to sign, which she does without comment. I want to laugh at how carefully she reads everything. We've been friends for a year and a half, telling each other the most personal things. And yet she still scrutinises every word in case she is been tricked. I blame that on Fox. His distrust of the world at large has done this to her. Mind you, not many people do trust lawyers…
Something else is wrong. Dana's entire body language exudes trouble. Something has pissed her off, and that's never a wise thing for a lady with a gun. Not that she would use it unnecessarily; she's too moralistic for that. In fact, she's one of the most moral people I know - something I admire about her. Countless cops and lawyers have been corrupted, yet she's kept herself well out of that. She's what I would class as a 'good girl', and it makes her one hell of a good friend.
I broach the studious silence to invite her to lunch. She accepts gratefully, her eyes warming over for the first time since she walked in. I think she just saw her opportunity to get whatever was troubling her off her chest - and now my instincts said man problems. What had he done now?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
An Italian Restaurant, downtown DC
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The short journey is pleasant; Dana turns the CD player onto Madonna. She certainly is a mass of contradictions, this girl. Such a strong Catholic, yet she loves the songs from someone who blatantly turned her back on it all. A bit like her love life. She refuses to let anyone to close, then starts a relationship with someone a bit too close. I love her to bits, but I doubt I'll ever understand her.
The pre-ordering chitchat consists mainly of me complaining about my oddball clients. Most of them are terrific, but at times the workload becomes boring. Some mild insanity always breaks up a mundane week. As the salad arrives, our conversation turns to Dana's work at the FBI. Naturally, this leads us to the topic of Fox and therefore I assume, the problem. They were best friends for years, living a life that I only read about. Their fierce protectiveness and affection for one another blossomed into a relationship two months ago, when Mrs Scully entered the final stages of her cancer. Dana had finally let down her defences, and everyone presumed them to be the perfect match.
But not today, that much was apparent. Whatever had occurred must have been serious. But knowing Dana as I do, I waited for her to bring it up - she's not the kind of person to share before she's ready.
She watches me eating and I suddenly feel self-conscious. I see her bemused grin and question her on the source of her amusement. She replies that the way I attack my lettuce is almost unsettling. I laugh along with her, since this is one of my more pleasant quirks. My explanation is silly, but it does bring the smile back to her face. I only eat that way because my brother used to tease me that the vegetables would come alive and eat me if I didn't eat them first. So I just made sure they were dead, an action that sticks with me to this day.
I sense Dana is ready to spill what was troubling her. The best plan is to avoid eye contact until she begins. When she does I lift my eyes slowly. I am shocked to see tears forming in hers.
It transpires that she and Fox had argued about their future. Only the term 'argument' seems too mild for this. That was their problem - so intense, all the time. The settling of Maggie's estate had brought up the subject of buying a house. Shamefully, my conveyancing side perked up at this. I shot the thought down before it could form properly. It seemed Mulder was unwilling to commit to anything regarding marriage, homes or even which film they were going to see. And for someone like Dana, that can be devastating after letting your guard down.
She couldn't understand it - it might have been two months romantically, but it had been eight years as closest friends. Dana is approaching thirty-seven, and thought the time for being cautious was about ten years ago. And Mulder had been the one who initiated the whole thing, cheering Maggie up before she died. I know Dana would like to get married, to have a glimpse of normality in her unconventional existence. But I always thought Fox felt the same…
So they split up four days ago, making work an awkward hell. But they had to hide it fro the prying eyes of their colleagues. Intrusion was the last thing they needed. Then Dana continues with her tale, just as I thought she had finished.
She had been having strange dreams where she was running through a building. No matter where she ran she could never find an exit. And all paths lead her to one room. In it was a young boy, hunched in a corner crying. Closer inspection showed a halo, and wings. One of the wings was bent at a most peculiar angle, rendering it useless. The child looked like the angels from the picture Bible Dana had read as a youngster. And every night as the 'angel' began to speak, she woke up in tears.
She asks my opinion as to its meaning. Being a natural pragmatist, I don't read into what I dream, explaining it as my overactive imagination taking over. I think back to university, where one of my option courses was psychology. I remember someone telling me that dreams are answers to question we haven't learned how to ask. I feel that there is some greater significance to this dream though, particularly since it has been three nights in a row. But before I can impart any pearls of wisdom, my mobile interrupts us. And I almost laugh when I think of how I should say 'cell phone'.
We break up lunch as I rush off to meet a hysterical client. I promise to call Dana later. As I get to my office, I find Fox standing outside. Puzzled, I ask if I can help. He tells me he is the frantic divorce client, having used that to get my time. I am less than pleased but invite him into the office anyway.
He comes straight to the point for once. He is interested in buying some property and wants my advice on the legality of the title deeds. He also shows me a picture of the most gorgeous house, causing me to gasp. I look quizzically at him, prompting a heart-warming story. Fox tells me how he found this house last week, and wanted to buy it for him and Dana as a surprise. He tried to be nonchalant when she mentioned buying houses, and it has backfired on him. So now he can prove exactly what he was planning. The sweetness of the gesture has me teary-eyed at my desk. What happened to the cold-hearted professional I used to be? I think she drowned in my inner pool of saccharin…
I check it all out as per his request, and then send him to inform Dana. As he leaves, I return to pondering the dream she told me about.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The next day
* * * * * * * * * * * *
I sigh as the phone rings again. Mary, my secretary connects the caller before I have the chance to object. But I don't mind when I hear a very excited Dana on the other end. And no wonder she's hyper - she has a brand new house and an engagement ring from the man she loves above all others. We agree to a lunch date for next week, and I hang up feeling only the slightest pang of jealousy. She also told me that the dream had gone.
The dream. I realise then what it means. A love as pure as theirs can still be damaged by the outside world, and dangerous fights. Sometimes the damage is severe - like a broken wing. Angels are traditionally sent to pre warn or to give direction to those in need. So this particular angel had been representative of Fox and Dana's relationship. Fortunately, a little loving care and a bridge across the gap had been found. Now, like the crying angel, their love could soar again.
Author: Dana E. Vassy
Rating: PG
Category: MSR, other POV
Spoilers: None, this is my own private theatre
Distribution: anywhere and everywhere. Keep my name on it and give me a site location at scullys_no_slut@viceprez.fsnet.co.uk
Disclaimer: Chris, you alone are the Surfer God, Vince is secondary Lord. We worship you, we give you thanks, we praise you for your glory. So just let this little blip go…Fox and 1013 - think of the terrible publicity for suing an insane person! Anne Marie is mine; I suppose you can borrow, if you ask nicely
Author's Notes: Anne Marie is loosely based on a combination of me, my mother Elaine, and another special person. The way she eats is attributed to Tim. He made me cry uncontrollably in a French restaurant by asking if I was going to eat my salad after I stabbed it to death…come on, I was only seven. I got the imagery from the Madonna song 'I'll Remember'.
* * * * * * * * * *
Anne Marie POV
* * * * * * * * * *
I glare at the horrible lettering on the glass door that signals my presence here. Ugly though it may be, I soften as I take in what that lettering spells. Anne Marie McCandless LL.B., Dip. My American qualifications have yet to be added, but I am content to see the reminder of my education in Britain. It seems like a different lifetime, yet it was only two short years ago I left my firm in London. A cautious rap on the glass halts my nostalgic daydream.
As I shout some banal greeting, my friend and client Dana, enters the room. She seems a little subdued. I put it down to missing her recently deceased mother and try to brighten the mood. I take out the files for her to sign, which she does without comment. I want to laugh at how carefully she reads everything. We've been friends for a year and a half, telling each other the most personal things. And yet she still scrutinises every word in case she is been tricked. I blame that on Fox. His distrust of the world at large has done this to her. Mind you, not many people do trust lawyers…
Something else is wrong. Dana's entire body language exudes trouble. Something has pissed her off, and that's never a wise thing for a lady with a gun. Not that she would use it unnecessarily; she's too moralistic for that. In fact, she's one of the most moral people I know - something I admire about her. Countless cops and lawyers have been corrupted, yet she's kept herself well out of that. She's what I would class as a 'good girl', and it makes her one hell of a good friend.
I broach the studious silence to invite her to lunch. She accepts gratefully, her eyes warming over for the first time since she walked in. I think she just saw her opportunity to get whatever was troubling her off her chest - and now my instincts said man problems. What had he done now?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
An Italian Restaurant, downtown DC
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The short journey is pleasant; Dana turns the CD player onto Madonna. She certainly is a mass of contradictions, this girl. Such a strong Catholic, yet she loves the songs from someone who blatantly turned her back on it all. A bit like her love life. She refuses to let anyone to close, then starts a relationship with someone a bit too close. I love her to bits, but I doubt I'll ever understand her.
The pre-ordering chitchat consists mainly of me complaining about my oddball clients. Most of them are terrific, but at times the workload becomes boring. Some mild insanity always breaks up a mundane week. As the salad arrives, our conversation turns to Dana's work at the FBI. Naturally, this leads us to the topic of Fox and therefore I assume, the problem. They were best friends for years, living a life that I only read about. Their fierce protectiveness and affection for one another blossomed into a relationship two months ago, when Mrs Scully entered the final stages of her cancer. Dana had finally let down her defences, and everyone presumed them to be the perfect match.
But not today, that much was apparent. Whatever had occurred must have been serious. But knowing Dana as I do, I waited for her to bring it up - she's not the kind of person to share before she's ready.
She watches me eating and I suddenly feel self-conscious. I see her bemused grin and question her on the source of her amusement. She replies that the way I attack my lettuce is almost unsettling. I laugh along with her, since this is one of my more pleasant quirks. My explanation is silly, but it does bring the smile back to her face. I only eat that way because my brother used to tease me that the vegetables would come alive and eat me if I didn't eat them first. So I just made sure they were dead, an action that sticks with me to this day.
I sense Dana is ready to spill what was troubling her. The best plan is to avoid eye contact until she begins. When she does I lift my eyes slowly. I am shocked to see tears forming in hers.
It transpires that she and Fox had argued about their future. Only the term 'argument' seems too mild for this. That was their problem - so intense, all the time. The settling of Maggie's estate had brought up the subject of buying a house. Shamefully, my conveyancing side perked up at this. I shot the thought down before it could form properly. It seemed Mulder was unwilling to commit to anything regarding marriage, homes or even which film they were going to see. And for someone like Dana, that can be devastating after letting your guard down.
She couldn't understand it - it might have been two months romantically, but it had been eight years as closest friends. Dana is approaching thirty-seven, and thought the time for being cautious was about ten years ago. And Mulder had been the one who initiated the whole thing, cheering Maggie up before she died. I know Dana would like to get married, to have a glimpse of normality in her unconventional existence. But I always thought Fox felt the same…
So they split up four days ago, making work an awkward hell. But they had to hide it fro the prying eyes of their colleagues. Intrusion was the last thing they needed. Then Dana continues with her tale, just as I thought she had finished.
She had been having strange dreams where she was running through a building. No matter where she ran she could never find an exit. And all paths lead her to one room. In it was a young boy, hunched in a corner crying. Closer inspection showed a halo, and wings. One of the wings was bent at a most peculiar angle, rendering it useless. The child looked like the angels from the picture Bible Dana had read as a youngster. And every night as the 'angel' began to speak, she woke up in tears.
She asks my opinion as to its meaning. Being a natural pragmatist, I don't read into what I dream, explaining it as my overactive imagination taking over. I think back to university, where one of my option courses was psychology. I remember someone telling me that dreams are answers to question we haven't learned how to ask. I feel that there is some greater significance to this dream though, particularly since it has been three nights in a row. But before I can impart any pearls of wisdom, my mobile interrupts us. And I almost laugh when I think of how I should say 'cell phone'.
We break up lunch as I rush off to meet a hysterical client. I promise to call Dana later. As I get to my office, I find Fox standing outside. Puzzled, I ask if I can help. He tells me he is the frantic divorce client, having used that to get my time. I am less than pleased but invite him into the office anyway.
He comes straight to the point for once. He is interested in buying some property and wants my advice on the legality of the title deeds. He also shows me a picture of the most gorgeous house, causing me to gasp. I look quizzically at him, prompting a heart-warming story. Fox tells me how he found this house last week, and wanted to buy it for him and Dana as a surprise. He tried to be nonchalant when she mentioned buying houses, and it has backfired on him. So now he can prove exactly what he was planning. The sweetness of the gesture has me teary-eyed at my desk. What happened to the cold-hearted professional I used to be? I think she drowned in my inner pool of saccharin…
I check it all out as per his request, and then send him to inform Dana. As he leaves, I return to pondering the dream she told me about.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The next day
* * * * * * * * * * * *
I sigh as the phone rings again. Mary, my secretary connects the caller before I have the chance to object. But I don't mind when I hear a very excited Dana on the other end. And no wonder she's hyper - she has a brand new house and an engagement ring from the man she loves above all others. We agree to a lunch date for next week, and I hang up feeling only the slightest pang of jealousy. She also told me that the dream had gone.
The dream. I realise then what it means. A love as pure as theirs can still be damaged by the outside world, and dangerous fights. Sometimes the damage is severe - like a broken wing. Angels are traditionally sent to pre warn or to give direction to those in need. So this particular angel had been representative of Fox and Dana's relationship. Fortunately, a little loving care and a bridge across the gap had been found. Now, like the crying angel, their love could soar again.