Colorado Springs, Colorado.
Daniel's eyes opened suddenly, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. A crow. What does that mean? Why was he having these dreams...or are they nightmares? Abruptly, he blinked. Awarness, or at least conscienceness, slowly grew in the cerulean orbs.
He sighed, closed his eyes. Rolled over, and was back asleep in minutes, having never been really awake. The sleeper in the bed next to him stirred. Opened brown eyes, saw that his beloved was still there, and went back to sleep. Neither of them noticed the large bird, larger than a crow, but smaller than a raven, perched on the window sill outside.
It cocked its head, a vaugely human expression in its eyes, and cawed softly. It slowly streatched its wings out, and hopping off the sill, glided silently away.
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Port Colombia, Washington
Dead men don't sleep. So, when the crow flew in the broken window of the appartment where Eric Draven had died, and now....lived wasn't the right word, but it was the closest. Existed, perhaps. Survived, barely. For long moments, neither man nor bird moved. The wind fluttered the birds feathers, and the man's hair. Silence, unbroken by either, streatched. The silence was broken by a police siren, far off, in the distance. Eric briefly thought of Daryl, wondered if the siren was him. Both the siren, and the thought, faded into nothing. Silence, once again unbroken, but for the sound of the rain hitting the roof. Suddenly the crow decided that the silence had gone on too long, and cawed harshley. It flapped its wings, turned, and resettled itself facing Eric. Eric met the birds eyes, a question forming itself in his mind.
What is it this time, I wonder...
Brief, flickering images formed themselves in Erics mind. Broken images of the crows wanderings. Until, suddenly the focused on one particular image. Two men stood, togethere, oblivious to their surroundings. And to the bird, perched on the hood of a nearby car. Both Eric and the crow observed them for seconds, before the image changed. Landscapes flew by; Eric thought he recognized Pike's Peak, wasn't that somewhere in Colorado? Suddenly the images clarified, once again on the two men. Only this time, the older, silver haired man, stood by two graves. One read 'Charlie O'niell' and two dates. The other read 'Daniel Jackson' and two dates. Eric was confused. One of the men had died, obviously. And so had someone else, someone named Charlie. Eric was still didn't understand. And then, he did. The crow showed him one final image before he released Eric. An image of both men, obviously more recent then the last one, standing in front of an obviously new house, moving thier belongings inside. But he was dead, wasn't he....That means...Is he a Crow, like me?
Eric once again met the birds eyes, this time a diffrent question in his. Just one word.
Where?
And the crow showed him a mountain, with a tunnle leading into it, surrounded by barbed wire and soldiers. Above the tunnle read the words 'Cheyenne Mountain.'
"Cheyenne Mountain? You want me to go to COLORADO??"
The bird cawed, and flew off.
"I'll take that as a yes."
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Daniel's eyes opened suddenly, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. A crow. What does that mean? Why was he having these dreams...or are they nightmares? Abruptly, he blinked. Awarness, or at least conscienceness, slowly grew in the cerulean orbs.
He sighed, closed his eyes. Rolled over, and was back asleep in minutes, having never been really awake. The sleeper in the bed next to him stirred. Opened brown eyes, saw that his beloved was still there, and went back to sleep. Neither of them noticed the large bird, larger than a crow, but smaller than a raven, perched on the window sill outside.
It cocked its head, a vaugely human expression in its eyes, and cawed softly. It slowly streatched its wings out, and hopping off the sill, glided silently away.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------
Port Colombia, Washington
Dead men don't sleep. So, when the crow flew in the broken window of the appartment where Eric Draven had died, and now....lived wasn't the right word, but it was the closest. Existed, perhaps. Survived, barely. For long moments, neither man nor bird moved. The wind fluttered the birds feathers, and the man's hair. Silence, unbroken by either, streatched. The silence was broken by a police siren, far off, in the distance. Eric briefly thought of Daryl, wondered if the siren was him. Both the siren, and the thought, faded into nothing. Silence, once again unbroken, but for the sound of the rain hitting the roof. Suddenly the crow decided that the silence had gone on too long, and cawed harshley. It flapped its wings, turned, and resettled itself facing Eric. Eric met the birds eyes, a question forming itself in his mind.
What is it this time, I wonder...
Brief, flickering images formed themselves in Erics mind. Broken images of the crows wanderings. Until, suddenly the focused on one particular image. Two men stood, togethere, oblivious to their surroundings. And to the bird, perched on the hood of a nearby car. Both Eric and the crow observed them for seconds, before the image changed. Landscapes flew by; Eric thought he recognized Pike's Peak, wasn't that somewhere in Colorado? Suddenly the images clarified, once again on the two men. Only this time, the older, silver haired man, stood by two graves. One read 'Charlie O'niell' and two dates. The other read 'Daniel Jackson' and two dates. Eric was confused. One of the men had died, obviously. And so had someone else, someone named Charlie. Eric was still didn't understand. And then, he did. The crow showed him one final image before he released Eric. An image of both men, obviously more recent then the last one, standing in front of an obviously new house, moving thier belongings inside. But he was dead, wasn't he....That means...Is he a Crow, like me?
Eric once again met the birds eyes, this time a diffrent question in his. Just one word.
Where?
And the crow showed him a mountain, with a tunnle leading into it, surrounded by barbed wire and soldiers. Above the tunnle read the words 'Cheyenne Mountain.'
"Cheyenne Mountain? You want me to go to COLORADO??"
The bird cawed, and flew off.
"I'll take that as a yes."
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