Questions III
By RocketMan

=====
SPOILER: This is the post-ep story for All Souls. I know I will be
jumping ahead a whole lot by doing this, but I just have to write this
one.
=====

Mulder could see the fear in her eyes.

He shivered; fear wasn't one of the things he saw a lot of in her.

She glanced around them, her dress billowing in the slight warm breeze
as he led her back to the car.

St. Paul's was serene looking, the huge stained glass window depicting
some kind of comfort that he couldn't quite make out at this distance.

He knew she was feeling confused by everything, confused becase she
could not talk with him; he did not believe.

Yet, how could he believe in angels, in seraphim and nephilim, if he had
not beleived in God since his sister had disappeared?

So many fragmented answers, so many things she thought she had seen, so
many questions that were frightening to ask.

He saw her sigh heavily as she got in the car, the kind of sighing that
came from crying.

Had she been crying as she was in that church? Had she turned away from
him again, when he offered her freely the right to come to him?

As he got in the car, he saw.

She had.

She had turned away from him again, had gone running to the church when
she was confronted with something that tore at her faith, or perhaps
strengthened it.

That could always be a good thing, though.
~~~~

When Dana closed her eyes, she could see the faces, the four faces of
the seraphim. She knew what she had seen, she knew she had not been
delusional. It was possible with Emily, the first time, in the cold of
the autopsy bay, in the harsh lights of the morgue.

It was not possible the second time, or with the seraphim.

But how had she been able to see the creature, and not have her eyes
smote out too? Was it because she was not a nephilim, not a child of him
that she was protected?

After Father McCue's denouncement of her visions, she had looked into
the story behind the seraphim, looked at everything she could find.

There were lots of things in texts the Church *did* recognize.

She closed her eyes and imagined the words:

"The Nephilim were on the earth in those days--and also afterwards--when
the sons of God went to the daughters of men and had children by them.
They were the heroes of old, men of renown."

That verse from Genesis, before God had flooded the world to kill
everyone with a wicked heart. And that subtle hint that the Nephilim had
survived the flood, made it out alive even though they had not been in
Noah's ark.

She shivered. These Nephilim were heroes though, not diseased women with
mental disabilities.

And then again:

"Above him were seraphs, each with six wings: With two wings they
covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they
were flying."

That was the only time seraphs were mentioned, and this was in
connection with the throne of God. The rest of the time they were
cherubim.

And cherubim weren't nice looking little babies with rosy cheeks either:

"Each of the cherubim had four faces: One face was that of a cherub, the
second the face of a man, the third the face of a lion, and the fourth
the face of an eagle."

This also was connected to God's throne, she remembered, but from a
different prophet's point of view. She could reconcile some of the
differences, but it was still strange. To have seen what the prophets
had seen and be just as rebuked and discouraged as they had been.

And then the last example, in Revelation, also connected to God's
throne, only this time, there were four creatures, with the face of a
man, an ox, a lion, and an eagle.

All in all, it didn't answer much, only that there was precedent for
such things, and that other people had seen such things and were
ostracized for it.

She felt awful though.

She still saw Emily when she closed her eyes.

She still saw Emily when her eyes were open.
~~~~

He wondered if she still thought she had seen an angel . . . or whatever
it was.

He had heard her breathing on the phone, heard her shock, her stillness,
and he knew she had seen *something* he just didn't believe it was an
angel.

A seraphim, whatever.

He glanced at her while she unlocked her door, noticed the abstract
horror on her face and he wondered if she was seeing Emily again.

"Scully?" he said softly, taking her hands.

She was staring at her keys.

"It's broken," she whispered.

"What's broken?"

"The keychain. The one you gave me for my birthday."

Her words were strained, as if the very symbolism behind that made her
hurt. To have broken something he had given her . . .

"It's okay, I'll get you a new one."

She shook her head. "No, it can't be replaced."

He frowned at her and he wondered what exactly she was reading into
their conversation.

"Scully . . ." He paused; it was time to talk about this, but he knew
she wouldn't want to. "Scully, tell me what's going on, okay? I know
you're . . . you're hurting and I want to help . . . You've got to show
me how."

Her face tightened and her eyes closed briefly, as if to dispel some
image, only it made it worse and she opened her eyes again.

He saw her fear again.

"I don't want to see Emily again, Mulder. Not again. I can't . . . I
can't . . ."

He wanted to hold her.

"She . . . I saw her Mulder and it hurt so bad. It hurt that all I know
of her is the brief time I saw her. It hurt that she was gone and I'd
never know why, or how, or even very much about her. It hurt that
someone else was raising my daughter. My daughter . . ."

She trailed off and went into his arms at the same time he was reaching
for her.

He had nothing to say, no words of miraculous comfort. There was nothing
he could say.

Emily was dead, and she was alive.

And all the angel sightings in the world couldn't change the fact that
Scully had seen her little girl.

It was what hurt her the most.

Challenged and pained and confused her the most.

Mulder held her, cradling her head and squeezing his eyes closed, as if
that could make it all go away.

He never wanted her to hurt.

She began to cry.
~~~~

end
adios
RM