If Birds Could Fly...

by, Smeagol's girl

(Takes place a year after Secret Window in the fall. People tend to get depressed during this time of year because of the lack of sunlight, especially when there's no one around to care. Everyone in town is afraid of him, and Amy and Ted aren't around to give him hell anymore. What else is there? Rated PG-13 for language. I own nothing except for any unfamiliar characters.)

If birds could fly a thousand miles

Then why can't they carry

Things in life that I don't need

Everything I try to bury?

If mouths could tell a thousand tales

Then why is it so hard

To find the words to say to you

When we're not so far?

When I look into your eyes I see

A familiar life I used to have

Everything I used to be

I see a reflection, through you, of me

Everytime you laugh

I wish I could laugh with you

But things in life will fade

And I'm fading too...

-"If Birds Could Fly", by me

"What can I get for you, sir?"

Mort Rainey looked up his menu at the waitress, all dressed in her uniform with a pink apron over a baby blue dress. Her blonde hair was brushed back in a ponytail, and to him, she looked like she had too much makeup on.

"A cheeseburger," he answered, sounding weary.

"What would you like on it?"

"Lettuce, Tomatoe, katsup, mayo, and bacon. Extra bacon. Missed breakfast this morning," he added, as if she cared.

"Done that before a few times. Fries with that?"

"Seasoned," he replied. She nodded and walked off. He sighed and leaned against the wall, resting his chin in his hand, looking around at the other customers. There was an old man, sitting with his wife, holding her hand and flirting with her shamelessly. Sitting at the bar were a few young men who probly hated their jobs and came here to rant about it. There wasn't a wedding band on any of their fingers. Mort had thrown his out a long time ago.

There was a newly wed couple, flirting to the extreme, making anyone sitting around them nausious. Then, at the back of the restaurant, a teen girl sat, dressed in a long black trench coat with chains, plaid pants and black boots coming over them. Her t-shirt had a the initials 'BA' printed on it in scratchy writting going vertical, and a halo above the 'B'. She was wearing a dog collar, spiked bracelets, black lipstick, white face paint, and black eyeliner forming tears down her face. She was a sight.

Mort snorted and rolled his eyes. Teens these days. Sooner or later she'd look back on what she wore and say, "What the hell was I thinking?" She was coughing into her sleeve which was drawn partially over her hand, her spine rippling with each cough like what a cat dose when it hacks up a hairball. It was not a pleasant sound to hear. A little girl sat across from her. Probably her daughter. Teen girls seemed to be a lot more loose now-a-days as well. Typical, he thought. He had been a wild teen once too so he really had no right to judge her right now.

The girl looked up at him and her eyes widened. He heard her tell the little girl to wait where she was, that she'd be right back, and she stood up, heading in his dirrection. Great, he thought to himself. Another freak to deal with.

"Excuse me," she said, putting on a smile, which really didn't go with her attire at all. "Are you Mort Rainey?"

"Yes," he said, forcing a smile. He had to try and at least be a little polite.

"Holy crap! I love your books. They're so amazing," she said with as much enthusiasm as her seemingly deep state of depression would allow. "I especially liked, 'Everybody Drops the Dime'. That was a very good collection of novellas, at least that's what I thought."

"Glad you enjoyed it," he said, smiling for real now. It had been a long time since he had run into any fans. "Is that your sister over there?" he asked, pointing to the little girl.

"Yeah," she said. "My little sister, Marissa. She's six and doesn't read very much. Listen, I know you must hate being bugged like this, but can I get your autograph?"

"Sure," he said. She walked back to her table, pulling out a backpack from underneath the table and shuffled through it. There was a lot of clothing in it, and he wondered why? It wasn't any of his bussiness so he wouldn't ask. Finally she came back with 'Every Body Drops the Dime' in her hand and gave it to him. "We're on vacation and I wanted it with to read again."

He smiled at her and cracked it open to the plank white sheet at the very front, next to the jacket pocket. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Mary," she said softly.

He wrote down, 'To my biggest fan, Mary. With love, Mort Rainey.' When he was done he gave it to her, watching her face brighten up a little as she read it.

"With love?" she asked. "Thanks. I'll just make sure my boyfriend doesn't see this." He chuckled a little. "Okay, I'll leave you alone now- COUGH! COUGH!" She stepped away from him and bent over, coughing out of control, her body trembling with every one. The book in her hand fell to the ground, and he began to wonder if it was more than just a cold now?

"Miss?" he asked. She staggered backwards, coughing even harder, sweat breaking out on her face and her eyes watering. Mort slowly got to his feet as she fell to her knees, coughing harder and harder. Across the room, the little sister ran over in front of her.

"Mary?" she asked frantically. "Mary, are you okay? Are you choking?" She was panicing, and who could blame her? She was only six after all.

"Hey!" called Mort. "Someone call for an ambulence!" There was scattered commotion, and he soon saw someone make a run for the phone.

Mary fell to the ground unconcious, and her little sister screamed and started sobbing.

Mort sat in the waiting room in the hospital. Mary had been rushed to the emergency room, while the little sister had to sit outside with him. She looked afraid as she sat at the far end, all alone. He felt bad for her, and stood up, approaching her slowly. Her blue sad eyes looked up at him and she sniffled.

"Are you okay?" asked Mort, kneeling down in front of her. She looked up at him and nodded. "Can I get you anything? A soda or a candy bar?"

"No," she said softly, shaking her head, barely making any eye contact with him.

"You didn't get to eat today in the restaurant did you?" She shook her head again. "I think you should, I mean, would Mary want you to go hungry?"

"W-What if she dies before I come back from the- the- the snack machine?" he was bothered by this question and didn't know what to think. Did she honestly think Mary was going to die? He thought it had only been a very bad cold after all. He looked at her in sympathy.

"I'll go get it myself and you can stay here. Would you like that?" She nodded. "What kind of candy do you like?"

"I like... I like Snickers," she said softly. He smiled and nodded.

"You want a drink too?" She nodded. "What kind?"

"Mt. Dew or Coke." He patted her on the shoulder and walked off to the vending machine, bringing back her Snickers and Mt. Dew. He had gotten himself a bag of Doritoes and Mt. Dew, and sat next to her, handing her the candy and the soda.

"Th- thankyou, Mister," she said softly.

"So, when are your parents coming?" he asked, glancing down at his watch.

"They're not coming," she said softly. "They died last year in a car crash." Mort's eyes widened. So there was a reason both of them carried around backpacks, stuffed with clothing. The little girl's was laying on the seat. It was pink 'Hello, Kitty' backpack with flowers. Mary's had been plaid and matched her pants.

"Where do you live then?" he asked, as if the answer wasn't obvious.

"At the homeless shelters. We like to walk around a lot. Mary said- said that we're gonna go to New York city someday and see the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty."

"So you're both going to New York?" he asked. "That's a very long walk."

"Y-yeah, but we're gonna do it, jus' as soon as she gets out of the hospital." Mort sighed and opened his Mt. Dew.

"Yeah," he muttered. The kid's dreams were empty and she didn't even know it. Mary was mostlikely not leaving the hospital anytime soon, and with no family, and probably no money, how would they pay for the bill? It was amazing they had even made it this far. It was sort of sad, seeing how naive she was.

The nurse who was working on Mary came, and Mort walked over to him, bringing his Mt. Dew with him. "How is she?" he asked. The nurse looked at his clipboard an sighed.

"She's not going to make it," he said softly.

"What?" asked Mort. This was happening too fast.

"She's got lung cancer, mostlikely from a lot of second hand smoke. Do you smoke, sir?"

"No," he lied. "And I'm not her father."

"I can see that," he said looking him up and down. "As soon as she could talk, she sang like a bird. She told us about the family situation." Mort glanced over at the little girl, sitting with her hands in her lap, waiting for him.

"What family?" he muttered. "Is there anyone left to take them in?"

"Not that we can find," said the nurse. "Are you in anyway related to them?"

"I just met them at the restaurant about six blocks down. I was giving Mary an autograph right before she went into her coughing attack. I don't even know the little kid's name."

"It's Marissa," said the nurse. "Wait a minute, don't I know you from somewhere?" He thought for a minute then snapped his fingers. "Mort! Mort Rainey, right?"

"Yeah," he said, smirking a little.

"It's an honor to meet you," he said, eagerly shaking his hand.

"So, what's going to happen to... uh... Marissa over there?" he asked, gesturing to her. The nurse shrugged.

"It's out of my hands. Social services will have to work there."

"Where will she stay tonight?"

"Probly in some group home somewhere. How should I know?"

"I'd think that, since you're her sister's nurse, you would've taken the time to get these details by now."

"There's no need to get tense, Mr. Rainey. If it'll make you feel any better, I'll go find out now and get back to you." Mort nodded.

"It would. Thankyou." The nurse nodded and walked off, while Mort turned, looking at Marissa who was swinging her legs back and forth, staring at the ground blankly. He sighed and walked back over, starting to sit down in the seat next to her.

"Don't sit there!" she said, looking up at him with big eyes. Mort froze and looked at her.

"Why?"

"Mr. Jibby is sitting there. You'll squish him!" Mort made a face and suddenly remembered when he was six and had imaginary friends of his own. The ironic thing was it was many years later and not much had changed.

"Sorry," he said, moving to the seat next to Mr. Jibby. He pulled his bag of Doritoes open and crunched into one, while Marissa reached over in the kiddie binn and pulled out a children's book.

"Can you read, Mister?" she asked. He looked up at her, still chewing on a Dorito. He chewed quickly and swallowed it.

"Yes," he said. She held up the book.

"Could you read this to me? Mr. Jibby can't read yet."

"Sure," he said, standing up and sitting on the little table across from her.

"Let's see," he said opening it to the front page. "'The Cat in the Hat'..."

(A/N: Secret Window is my movie obsession for the month, mainly cuz Johnny Depp was so friggin' gorgeous in it! If only I were older, or he were younger...)