This bit is longer than I thought, since in the original story, it was more a near-death state, talking place in a graveyard. What happens to Marissa won't be until the next chapter, titled "Who am I?" So far, Knightsky and KITT40146 have replied as to my question as posted at the start of Chapter 13. I'll still collect answers for a while, since I am also working on Knight Radio as a DJ for the Ficdom at the same time.

Chapter 14: Between Life and Death Lies…

In the dark of night, Marissa was staring out of the window in a hospital room. Right then, her mind was filled with lots of thoughts. A short distance away, Devon lay very still on the hospital bed, comatose. Michael was sleeping on the other side in a bed that was set up.

She was supposed to have awakened the operative an hour ago, but she didn't feel like sleeping. Although she didn't tell anyone, she had not gotten any sleep in days…the last time she had anything considering sleep was an hour or two catnap the night before the "storm".

She was startled out of her thoughts by a series of beeps…coming from her wrist.

Marissa blinked and pressed a button then asked, "That you, Kitty?"

"Yes. What are you doing up? You should be asleep."

"I can't, Kitt…Not for a lack of trying, but…I just can't. How about you? Whenever Michael was hurt bad, were you ever able to rest?"

There was a pause before Kitt admitted, "No. I see what you're saying."

Marissa sighed and then said quietly, "Do you think that maybe…it's my fault he's like this now?"

"What on earth makes you say that?"

"Remember the nightmare the day of the picnic?"

"Yes, but you never told me what it was."

She sighed and related the entire dream, sparing no detail, including the fact that within it, her choices had caused Devon's coma.

"Personally, I think that if you hadn't made the choices that you did, Devon and possibly others would be dead by now," Kitt replied at the end, "It's another reason why I chose to help you."

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"Things like this hardly ever make humans feel better, it seems. It's a case of what Michael calls a rock and a hard place."

She made a small affirmative sound as she looked from the night sky to her father, then back again.

"Kitty," she said after a minute, "if father survives this…I want you to teach me first aid."

"First aid? But Rissie, you already know, somewhat, what to do for cuts and such…"

"No, not that kind…Kitty, when I saw father like that in the freezer room, feeling so cold and suddenly passing out…I panicked. I didn't know what to do. I don't want that to happen again. If something happens to any of you again, I want to be able to know how to help, instead of stand there like I did."

There was a long pause before Kitt replied, "I'll do it. And I'll make sure the others get involved, too."

She smiled a little and said, "Thanks. I mean it."

"If you can't sleep, at least wake Michael up, lie down on the other bed and rest, all right?"

The little girl nodded and looked over to the second bed and gasped.

Michael was sitting on it, just watching and listening to the conversation.

"Um, I…ahh…"

"Kitt's got some good advice. At least rest. You should've woke me an hour ago, but I definitely understand."

He got up and Marissa walked over to the bed. The older man picked her up and tucked her in.

"Michael, if you don't mind, I'll play some music for her."

"Go right ahead, buddy," he said.

A few moments later, over the comlink, Pachabel's Canon in D began playing.

It wasn't normally Michael's type, but he knew it was something special between the AI and the little girl.

Within a few minutes, Marissa was asleep.

"She hasn't slept in days, it looks like. Poor kid."

000000000000000

The day passed in almost the same way as the one before: At lunch, Michael and Marissa went to get something to eat…this time, pizza, while Bonnie and RC watched over Devon.

Strangely enough, neither Laura nor Rodrigo had come to visit. When asked, Michael said that they were planning something, most likely, as well as helping Jack get settled in his new home.

It still shocked both Marissa and Michael that Jack had outright left the Black Dragons for them…and it surprised the little girl more to learn that it turned out that the young man was related to Laura and Rodrigo Mariz. Just from the short time that both had met him, it seemed that such a change would be a big culture shock.

When both returned to the hospital, Marissa began to shiver rather suddenly.

"Rissie, are you all right? Your temperature just plummeted again, like it did the morning of the picnic!"

"I-I don't know," she replied and saw Michael shiver as well.

"Michael, not you too!"

"Just a cold chill, Kitt…but I've got a bad feeling about today, for some reason."

"Yeah, me too…and I don't even wanna think about it."

"Did you have any bad dreams last night?"

"Yeah, a lot of them," she replied, "So I didn't get much sleep."

"I could tell," Michael said, then walked into the room and over to where Devon was.

The older man was a bit paler than he had been the previous night, a change that he didn't like.

"What the h—heck is keeping him in this shape?" he asked, barely remembering that there was a little girl in the room.

"I don't know," she murmured, "But I've got a bad feeling about this. As soon as night comes, I want to check the stars."

"You and me both, kid. I've got a weird feeling of deja-vu…like I've seen this before."

Michael then squeezed his hand and said quietly, "Just where are you…? You're really worrying us, your daughter included. Wherever it is, you've got to come back to us."

000000000000000

As soon as it was dark enough, Marissa did check the constellation Ursa Major. She peered at the nose and frowned.

At sunset, Michael had started to feel something…wrong. It seemed like an acrid smell while the room started to feel cold, more than usual.

"Um…Michael, something's wrong."

He blinked and hurried over to the window.

"What is it?" he asked.

"The nose of Ursa Major…doesn't it look like it's dimmer…and lower than before?"

He peered closely at the constellation, and as he located the nose, his eyes went wide.

"Kitt, check the current position of Ursa Major's nose and compare it with the latest records."

"Michael, why are you asking—"

"Just do it!"

There was a long pause before Kitt replied, sounding surprised, "Something is very wrong, Michael. The nose of the constellation is approximately 2.5 inches lower than its normal position."

"You're not seeing things," he replied to the little girl grimly, "I'm calling Rodrigo—"

"No need for that, Senor," the Mexican man announced as he started to come in, carrying a steel pitcher, filled with warm, sweet-smelling liquid. As soon as he stepped through the door, he froze.

"Madre de los Dios!" he cursed, "When did this happen!"

"What're you talking about?" Marissa asked.

"I can feel it strongly, senorita—"

Michael interjected, "Look, we found something wrong. Ursa Major's nose is lower and dimmer, and Kitt's confirmed it."

"I don't need to see the sky to know that," he replied grimly as he walked towards the comatose form, "You don't know what to look for yet, Michael, but I sensed that something happened. Laura! Come here, now!"

The girl came in, almost dropping a pair of cups before she froze, the blood draining from her face.

"Oh no," she said, "The Bardo!"

"What're you talking about?" Michael asked.

"Devon's slipped into the bardo, and it happened in the past few minutes," she replied.

At this, the operative paled and said, "No…not the Bardo!"

"Si. Michael, take the cups from Laura and sit in a chair. Laurita, take a deep breath then start pouring the tea. Marissita, you sit in the other chair."

"What's this Bardo?" the little girl asked as she sat in a chair beside the hospital bed.

"It comes from the Buddhists, but it has a lot of reality in the Western world, too," Michael explained, "The Bardo is seen as, in some religions, a river. To some people, it's like a state line or a country's border. No matter how it's seen, there is a single truth: 'Between Life and Death lies the Bardo.'"

"Aye, and the Mystics believe in it, too."

"Oh no…father…!"

"That's right," Laura agreed, "That's exactly what this means."

Marissa got up and paced nervously.

As Laura began to pour the pitcher's contents, Rodrigo said, "I had a feeling something bad was going to happen, but I didn't expect this! Michael, you and I are going to drink this. When we do, we will have to go in and save Devon ourselves."

As she heard this, Marissa found herself close to the cups.

"What's this stuff? And how much did you make?" Michael asked.

"A special kind of tea. Works as a sedative and prepares one for a trip like this. Acts much quicker than inhaling incense. And there's only enough for two."

Marissa nodded and grabbed one of the cups.

"Rissie, no!"

"Marissita!" Roberto exclaimed and tried to take the cup from her.

She stepped out of reach and quickly drank all of the tea.

"Do you know what you've just done?" the Mexican asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"What you drank was sized for an adult," Michael said, "Who knows what it'll do to you!"

"I don't care," she replied, "I'm going in. It's my choice and I've made it."

The operative peered at her and saw more than a bit of Devon in her expression.

"Better give me the other cup, Rodrigo," Michael said, "I'll go in with her."

The Mexican nodded and reluctantly gave him the other cup of tea.

"Drink it all and go back to the chairs, each of you taking a hand. Then, when you both feel drowsy, speak his name," he added, "Since you made your decision, Marissa, you'll have to guide yourselves and Devon's soul back from the Bardo."

She nodded as she sat on the chair at Devon's right side, gently taking a hand in hers. Michael lowered the bed to the proper level and moved it closer until he could grasp the older man's hand.

Almost immediately, both younger man and child were blinking rapidly. It felt odd to be using his name like this, but Marissa knew she had to.

"Devon…Devon Miles," both said in a firm voice.

Michael's head fell backwards onto the bed while Marissa slumped in her seat.

000000000000000

Marissa opened her eyes…and found herself in what seemed like, at first, under water…yet here, she had no trouble breathing at all. All around her, dark waves flowed, with stars passing by at a strange rate: first slow, then fast. She faintly heard what seemed like a mixture of heartbeats that faded in and out and the sound of flowing water.

Within the passing stars, she could see what looked like balls of light. Some were yellow, some black, some white…and some gray.

Almost instantly, Michael appeared on her left, surrounded by a gentle, white glow.

He opened his eyes and looked around him as well, then said, "So this is either the Bardo or the pathway to it…what now?"

His voice seemed to echo.

"We need to find father, that's what," she replied, "Any idea how to locate him in all this?"

He closed his eyes, murmuring something about looking within his new memory…then said, "I can't remember a thing. Let's try picturing him in our minds. That might work."

She nodded and closed her eyes again, concentrating on a perfect, mental image of her father.

Where? The thought came before she could control it.

"Marissa," Michael asked, "Can you feel anything…?"

"Yeah," she replied, "It feels like something's in denial and distraught."

"Me too," he said, "That's Devon. It's a bit far, but we have to move fast. Let's go."

Marissa felt for his hand and grasped it, then said, "Let's not get separated."

"Yeah," he replied, completed the grip, then began to move forward as he felt what seemed like wind or a water current push them from behind.

The little girl followed close behind, holding her friend's hand as tightly as she could.

A moment later, she felt a kind of resistance all around her.

"Something doesn't want us to go on," she said warily.

"I can tell too, but we need to get to Devon before he crosses over."

Hey! Marissa thought, take us to my father, Devon Miles!

The water current began moving again, pushing the two people in a different direction.

"Hey! Devon!" Michael called out, growing concerned.

There was nothing but silence for what seemed like a long moment…then almost all at once, the pressure against them vanished…and a familiar voice spoke…and it wasn't Devon's.

"M-Michael! Marissa! What are you two doing in the Bardo?"

Marissa opened her eyes, then looked. She gasped as she saw the familiar flame-red haired woman.

"Mom," she said, and was about to explain when Michael cut in.

"Verona, your brother's in here, and unless we find him, he's going to cross over. Can you take us to him?"

She looked pale as she swallowed, then replied, "He's not supposed to be crossing over yet! Form a chain and follow me!"

Michael took the woman's hand and made sure the little girl still held his in a firm grip before they felt the pressure return at their backs…although this time, it seemed that the pressure was guiding them, rather than just shoving.

"Hey mom, what are these strange colored balls that come by us?"

"Souls. The color represents the type. Yellow means that the person was terminally ill, black for ones corrupted beyond help, white are pure…and gray are those that are in between. The ones bound for what one would call purgatory."

"Oh! Hm…? What's that voice…?"

In the distance, the small group could hear a voice.

"…no…I'm not…not me…just…just who the hell am I?"

The three beings gasped as they heard it.

"Michael, what the hell happened to Devon?"

As they traveled, he started to vocally explain until she instructed him to be silent, but to remember in his mind. Even though she was not told to, Marissa did as well.

After what seemed like a long time, Verona said, "Oh no. I knew since I was a child who I was, but Devon wasn't supposed to, not for a long time, if ever. Those murderers told him and beat him…then tried to execute him…"

"M-Mom…?"

"Thanks to what they did, Devon is shaken to the core…and his very identity is in question now."

"…Verona?"

"I think he's close by. Hurry, before it's too late!"

A few moments later, the pressure ceased completely.

Michael opened his eyes again, as did Marissa.

In front of them was Devon, standing in a medium-sized room. The architecture was considered rather extravagant and modern…for an aristocratic British household. This room in particular looked like a young man's bedroom.

"Gypsy…what is a Gypsy?" he asked.

There seemed to be a stirring of the air and a moment later, a phantom image of Verona appeared in the room.

"Bonnie said that he had a nightmare," Michael said quietly as Devon gasped in shock.

"This must be what we're seeing, then," the woman murmured.

"A surprise to see you here, Devon."

"Verona…? Little sister, what is a Gypsy? You know something, don't you?"

The phantom nodded and replied, "I do know…you won't like the truth."

"…? Tell me…"

"Verona" sighed and waved a hand. A full-length mirror with a wooden, fancy design appeared against one wall.

"Look in there and a 'Gypsy' you will see."

Devon did as he was told…and as he looked in the mirror, his eyes widened and he gasped in pain, staggering backwards.

All around them, they heard a harsh, male voice speak.

"I wouldn't be talking about things I don't know if I were you, lady. We're not talking about those nomad thieves. At least they're real humans."

Devon shook his head, his breathing becoming ragged as he said, "N-no…you must be jesting…no…not me…I'm not…I'm an Englishman. I'm not a—no, it's not true! It's not true!"

Michael's eyes were tinged with pain.

"But it is true, big brother. I am a 'Gypsy' too."

"No, Verona, be quiet! I tell you, it's not true! I'm not…you're not…"

There was a mix of voices…and from the look of things, it was when Devon was awakened from the nightmare, identified as a Mystic…and then…

"Shut up, filth!"

"What's going on, Marco?"

"We've just bagged ourselves a Gypsy, and you're not gonna believe who it is."

"Devon Miles?"

"You got it! The guys abroad mentioned something about Verona Miles' brother and that they want him especially."

They heard the Englishman refusing, repeating that he was not what they were saying.

"No use denying it, old baggage. Like I told you before, lady, Gypsies aren't real human beings. They didn't come from the same stuff as the rest of us…and this old man's one of 'em."

Michael hissed, "Those little monsters…! No wonder Devon's—"

Two of Devon…one before a mirror, distraught and in denial while the other on a bed, lifesigns fading…

As the image firmly was in his mind, Michael understood what it meant. That very image from his Initiation was happening right now!