From: WGPD33A@prodigy.com (MR JOHN J SHENKO) Date: Wed, 9 Sep 1998 21:05:20, -0500 Subject: Angelic Intervention Title: Angelic Intervention Author: Christina Category: S Rating: PG Spoilers: Maybe W of the C -- I mentioned Bambi Keywords: Pre-XF Summary: Dana's in college, and she and her roommate stop to help a stranger on a dark and stormy night, and her help changes both their lives. (The actual story is a lot less corny.) Disclaimer: Mulder (though I didn't name him) and Scully (though I called her Dana) don't belong to me. Neither does Bambi Berenbaum, thank God. They all belong to Chris Carter, the Almighty Surfing God, his Consortium, 10-13, and his Elders, the bosses at 20th Century Fox. Oh, no money's being made, no infringement intended, you all know the drill. Archive: Please do, just keep my name and email on it, and drop me a note so I know where it's going. Author's Note: I think Bambi said something about being an only child, but I can't remember. If she did, pretend she has a brother. Thanks. ~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~` "So, Dana," Lydia Reed asked her friend, "What did you think of Bobby Berenbaum?" "Well, as blind dates go, he wasn't bad," Dana replied, keeping her gaze forward. The rain tonight had made this twisty back road slick. "He was kind of cute and all, but he kept talking about his genius sister. And get this," Dana told her roommate. "This 'genius girl' is named Bambi!" The two friends laughed, both thinking about the Bambi who lived in their dorm -- she was a total ditz. "She works with bugs or some--" "Dana, look out!" Lydia yelled, pointing ahead. Dana swerved the car, narrowly missing a black Taurus that had plowed into the guardrail. "You okay?" Dana asked, breathless, slamming on the brakes. "Yeah. You?" "I'm fine. But I don't think that driver is." She climbed out of the car after retrieving her flashlight from the glove compartment. Cautiously approaching the car, she rapped on the driver's side window. "Hello?" The only answer was a low moan. She slowly opened the door. The beam of her flashlight revealed the sole victim of the crash, a young man about 6 feet tall. He was bleeding profusely from myriad gashes and a head wound. Lydia stepped up behind her. "Oh, my God." Dana glanced at her friend. "Help me get him out." The two girls gingerly eased the tall, dark, and handsome stranger out of his totaled car and onto the wet pavement. "Lydia. There was a pay phone about a half a mile back. Take my car -- the keys are in the ignition -- and go call 911. And for God's sake, drive carefully!" Lydia nodded and started towards the car. "Oh, wait! I have flares in the trunk. Light a few so we don't get run over here." "Sure thing." Dana turned back to the bloody, unconscious human being in front of her. she yelled at herself as the scene was slowly illuminated by the eerie light of the flares. She shook the man's shoulder, as per CPR procedures, praying he didn't have a neck injury. Well, she should have thought of that before they moved him. Too late now. "Are you okay?" No response. Okay. Check respiration. Can't hear it, can't feel it, chest isn't rising. Two rescue breaths. Dana fit her mouth over his, pinched his nose, and forced air through his lungs. One. Two. She tasted the coppery tang of blood and spat it out on the pavement, hoping he didn't have AIDS. Prayers, hopes -- that's about all he had right now. Okay. Pulse. She put her first two fingers over the stranger's carotid artery, waiting the full 30 seconds before she gave up. Deep breaths. Calm down. Dana tried to slow her own panicky, racing heartbeat. Chest compressions. Find the xyphoid process, two fingers up. Right on the second "O" of his Oxford sweatshirt. She counted out loud, "One and two and three and four..." until fifteen. Two more rescue breaths. Fifteen chest compressions. She did four sets, then checked his pulse and respiration again. Nothing. Damn. Dana started the cycle again, breaths, compressions, breaths, compress-- She felt and heard a rib crack, but kept going. Broken ribs we can fix, her instructor had said. Death we can't. Time lost meaning, flowing liquidly all around her, yet standing still. She found herself noticing inane, meaningless details, like the mole on his right cheek. The way a lock of his hair kept falling over his forehead, despite her attempts to brush it away. The photograph he held clutched in his hand of two children -- brother and sister, perhaps? -- standing by a tree. Yet all the while, she continued the rhythm -- breaths, compressions, breaths, compressions... Rain dripped off her hair and into the dark hair of her patient. She tried to give him another breath, but it came back with a sputter and a cough. He tried to sit up, but she pinned him down. "No, no, don't move," she cautioned, trying to soothe the wild, terrified look from his hazel eyes. "You've been in an accident. The ambulance is on it's way. Just lie still; you've lost a lot of blood." He shifted slightly. "My angel," he managed to get out, one hand coming up to touch her face. "My very own guardian angel," he said, in awe. "Angel, you can call me Fox. Only you...no one else..." he tried to shake his head but failed. Sirens sounded in the distance, and a thumb caressed her jawbone. "Thanks, Red." Then the ambulance was there, all lights and noise and organized chaos, and Dana was swept along, pushed aside, jostled, coddled. "Miss?" an EMT asked. "Do you know the victim?" She shook her head. "He was unconscious when we arrived; he needed CPR, which I administered. He's got a least one broken rib, a head wound, what I believe to be a broken arm, and a lot of glass lodged in his skin." The EMT eyed the petite redhead before him. She looked and sounded like a doctor; calm, collected, in control of the situation. But surely she was too young... "Are you a doctor, miss?" "Who, me?" she asked, surprised. "No, I'm an English major." "Oh. Well, your patient's going to make it," he said. "Which is something I couldn't say if you hadn't shown up. You did good." He shook her hand, unmindful of the blood that covered it. "Some mother thanks you." He turned to go. All of the sudden, her adrenaline high faded, and she collapsed against the wreck of a Taurus, her legs rubbery and her arm muscles burning. She touched the cheek the stranger had caressed and was surprised when she felt the slickness of blood rather than water. Dana lifted her face to the sky and let the rain rinse away the handprint of blood from her skin. "Dana!" She heard Lydia's voice calling her name, and pulled herself back to reality. "Dana, honey, you're soaked!" Lydia felt it was unnecessary to mention she was covered in blood, too. She wrapped Dana in a blanket salvaged from the trunk of her car -- the girl was *much* too well-prepared -- and herded her towards the car. "Let's get you home," Lydia said, seating her friend in the passenger's seat, then seating herself in the driver's. She turned the ignition. "Lydia," Dana said as they drove away. "I think I'm going to change my major to pre-med..." ~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~` Hi. I hope you liked it. Please send me feedback to WGPD33A@prodigy.com. I'd appreciate it greatly. Even flames. Thanks for reading!