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ARCHIVE NOTE:  Lesdean A. Warner's email address has changed.
(08MAY96)      Please use the new address: xangst@marina-pt.com
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From: LisdXPhile@aol.com
Date: Sat, 9 Dec 1995 18:24:28 -0500
Subject: NF> The Bridge 1/1 *G*


Well, when writer's block breaks, it breaks big time. Here's one that I
thought about after reading Sara's Her Wings. Thanks for a great story, by
the by, Sara.

This takes place during the season three opener.

Standard Disclaimer as stated in the XA Charter. Additional disclaimer
follows story.

**************
The Bridge
By Lisdean Warner

"Live."
   Fox Mulder floated quietly in the Great Star Nation. He had found no real
answers here, only a command. "Live."
   He wasn't sure he could.
   He was tired, hot. It would be easier to stay. Easier to give up. To let
them win.
   "Live."
   He opened his eyes again, to find them gone. His father, his mentor... one
figure remained, standing silently in the darkness.
   Female. Thin. His father had said she wasn't here, but what if...
   "Samantha?"
   "Your dad was right, Fox," the young woman said, walking foward into the
light that was his lifeforce. "She's not here."
   He took a good look. She wasn't tall, though he'd hardly call her short.
Not like Scully. Her hair and eyes were black--not cold, but warm and
comforting. The clothes she wore were casual; black like her eyes. Her skin
was white, like bone.
   "Time to go, Fox," she said, holding out her hand with a smile.
   "Go where?" he asked tiredly. He was sick of being led around by the nose.
Sick of doing what others wanted. Still, this woman seemed safe; peaceful. He
rose carefully to find himself fully clothed, though he was sure he had been
naked moments earlier.
   "Home," she replied, walking him slowly away from the palette he had lain
on. "You can only stay here for so long."
   "Where is here?"
   "It's a... bridge... that spans between death and life."
   "So that would make you... Death?" he asked, a bit of humour coming back
to him.
   She smiled. "sure, you can call me that."
   "So where's the death cape and the scythe?"
   "I could wear them if you really want me to, but they're really
uncomfortable."
   He laughed and walked on, hand in hand with Death.

"Are you taking me to Heaven?" he asked, after what seemed hours of walking.
Home hadn't seemed so far away.
   "No," she said simply.
   "But, if you're..."
   "No," she repeated. "It's not your time, yet." Her face broke into an
ironic smile. "If anyone would know, it'd be me. For now, I'm just a friend
trying to help you get home." She smiled fondly at him. "I've walked you home
before, Fox. You and Dana both."
   He stopped. "Is she all right?"
   "For now," Death replied. "I won't be seeing her anytime soon."
   "But she's in danger," he said, resisting her attempts to move him.
"Cancerman... His men..."
   "You know," she said smartly, giving up on movement for the moment. "I've
been meaning to talk to you about that. Did you ever think about moving into
another line of work?"
   "Did you?"
   Death's laugh was deep and inviting--not at all the cackle that tradition
had taught him to expect. "This isn't my work, Fox. This is my existence."
   "Are you sure she's all right?" he asked anxiously.
   Death looked into his eyes, considering. She had seen them together, knew
the protectiveness there, the love between them. She thought of her family
then, and smiled. "What if I could let you see her?"
   "How?" He jumped at the chance.
   She shrugged, taking his hand again. "We'll go see my little brother." She
smiled indulgently as a gate appeared quite suddenly before them. "He takes
his... job... a little seriously sometimes, but I'm sure he'll help you."

In her apartment in Alexandria, Dana Scully prayed that tonight--just
tonight--she would sleep without dreaming.
   That she slept at all was surprising to her. But the Sandman seemed to
have a hold on her that she couldn't break. And the dreams he sent her were
punishing. No dreams tonight, she asked silently. Just a few simple hours of
forgetfulness.

The palace--if such Mulder could name it--was complex and dreamlike. He felt
immediately more relaxed, as if, on some unconscious level, he knew this
place.
   They walked inside, Death giving him an encouraging smile as he took in
the vague grandeur around him.
   "Lucien!" Death dropped his hand and ran to embrace an almost impossibly
tall man who had just exited a room to their right.
   He collapsed himself around her carefully, returning the affection with an
awkward smile. She pulled away slightly, and gestured to her companion.
   "Lucien, this is Fox Mulder. Fox, this is Lucien, my brother's librarian."
She looked up at the tall man. "Where is the brat?"
   Lucien looked vaguely mortified. "Ma'am, you can't call him that here."
   She threw him a saucy smile. "He's my little brother, and I can call him
anything I want." The smile softened, love for her sibling evident in her
shiny black eyes. "Where is he?"
   "Upstairs, Ma'am."
   "Good. Will you entertain Fox for a minute? I want to talk to him alone."

The library was a wonder Mulder could scarcely conceive of. He had just
cracked a tome of poems Donne had never written, when Death returned, her
"little brother" in tow.
   He was imposingly tall, though Lucien still managed to top him by a head
or more. Like his sister, he was fair-skinned with coal-black hair and eyes,
but he was a chilled reflection of her. In his eyes, a thousand stars
glittered, frozen.
   "This is my brother, Fox."
   "And I call him...?" Mulder asked cautiously.
   "Umm..."
   "Many call him the Lord of Dreams, Mr. Mulder," Lucien supplied helpfully.
   "That's fine," Death said, a teasing smile for her brother. "A little
pretentious, though."
   Dream threw her a quelling glare which rolled carelessly past. "I know
your friend, Mulder," he said, his voice cold and quiet. "She rarely visits
my realm peacefully."
   Mulder nodded sadly. Scully was probably happy here before she met him.
"Is she here now?"
   Dream dipped his head coldly, turning to lead them out of the library.
   What had been a hallway when first Mulder entered the room, was now a vast
star field, pleasantly familiar. The figure sleeping before him was more
familiar still.
   "What should I tell her?" he asked, suddenly unsure.
   "What you have to," Death replied, a gentle hand on his shoulder.
   And suddenly, he knew.
   "I have crossed the bridge that spans two worlds..."

"Goodbye, Fox," Death said, giving him a hug that warmed him to his core. She
smelled comfortingly of wood smoke and herbs.
   "Thank your brother for me."
   He was already falling back into the soft darkness. He knew now that it
held, not an end, but a new beginning.
   "He already knows, Fox," she said gently, her voice drifting ever farther
from him. "Sweet dreams."

And his dreams were sweet from then on. For one day more he slept, seeing
Dream's realm in a way he hadn't enjoyed since he was a boy. When he woke, he
remembered little of his travels, but they had worn him down. He cleared his
throat experimentally, aware of the boughs that covered him, the fire warming
his side.
   Someone approached him. "Mulder?"
   Albert Hosteen. Mulder opened his eyes weakly, and rasped, "Water?"

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

Death and Dream are, as Sara said before, property of Neil Gaiman, and appear
monthly in Sandman comics, published under the Vertigo label of DC comics,
Inc. I use them without thought of reimbursement, and without permission. 

Check this title out. Some of the finest writing around.

Lis