A/N:: This is my first Touched by an Angel story, and I'm quite nervous about posting it! It's definitely not my best work, and it's just a simple plot, but I felt I needed to write something to "break" my way into writing these kinds of stories. This was inspired by the beginning of the "Groundrush" episode where Tess and Monica are discussing clouds. :)
A soft, warm breeze swept across the lush green meadow, leaving the grass and wildflowers dancing in its wake. The only sounds that reached the ears were the whispers of the wind and the occasional joyous melodies of birds soaring overhead. Jewel-toned butterflies flitted gracefully from flower to flower, enhancing the sense of livelihood in the surroundings. There was something so strongly peaceful and comforting about being alone in that pure, untainted seclusion of nature that it soothed the heart and elated the soul.
An Irish angel stood barefoot in the middle of the vast grassland and peered up at the majestic blue sky, which was spotted with puffy white cotton ball clouds and streaked with rays of golden sun. Her large cocoa eyes were widened, and her mouth was parted slightly, revealing a shock of pearly white teeth beneath reddened lips, as she gazed thoughtfully upwards. The gentle breeze blew her long white dress and auburn hair in silky wisps behind her.
"Looking for something, Angel Girl?" a deep, friendly voice boomed beside her.
She sighed, rolled her eyes playfully, and smiled in response, never taking her eyes from the sky.
"Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, Andrew?"
"Absolutely," he replied, glancing over her lovely Gaelic facial features.
Monica dropped her gaze to her friend and blushed slightly as she realized that he hadn't been referring to the sky. Andrew stepped forward and took his place beside her. The very nearness of her had always managed to ease him yet equally take his breath away.
"I thought I might find you here, Monica."
She nodded; he knew her so well.
"I'm glad you did," she replied in a near whisper, lifting her eyes back to the sky. This time, Andrew followed her gaze. "Every time I look up at the sky," she went on, "I thank God for His gift of beauty. He did a great job, you know."
Andrew chuckled softly at her childlike wonder and innocence that he admired so much.
"You're right. He did – in many ways." He was looking into her face again, and the heat was rising in Monica's cheeks once more.
"Why is it that not everyone can see the beauty I see in the clouds?" she asked, a slight frown forming on her mouth. "Not even Tess sees them the way I do. She says they're just 'balls of fluff'…"
"Well, what do you see?"
She hesitated for a moment before giving her answer, though she knew she could trust him with anything and everything.
"Well, look at that one," she said, extending her arm straight into the air to point at a particularly fluffy cloud. "It's a jellyfish," she answered matter-of-factly, as if this were all it could be.
Andrew furrowed his brow in concentration and then nodded decidedly.
"I can see that," he said honestly.
"Really?" she asked, her eyes widening at him in surprise.
"Yes, really," he replied with a bright laugh.
"What about that one?" Monica asked, pointing to another cloud.
"Hmm, I see a duck."
Her eyes grew large once more.
Andrew nodded and grinned at her amazement.
"So do I!" she exclaimed, pleasantly surprised that he shared her imaginative view. She excitedly pointed at yet another cloud. "Oh, Andrew, look at that one!"
When he saw the cloud she was pointing to, there was no question in his mind as to what she was seeing.
"It's a wee angel! How lovely!"
She was right, of course. Hovering high in the sky, straight above them, was a large mass of puffy cloud in the unmistakable shape of the traditional human depiction of an angel in flight, complete with wings and something that looked very much like a small harp. The bright sun behind the cloud illuminated it completely with what seemed to be a heavenly glow. Andrew smiled as he spoke to Monica in a low voice.
"I know of another 'wee' angel who is quite lovely herself," he gently teased.
He kissed the crown of her head, and she enveloped him tenderly into her arms and rested her head on his strong chest.
"Promise me something, Andrew."
With the sweetness of her Irish voice pronouncing his name in that special way of hers and the loving, trusting sparkle in her dark eyes, he was sure that he would never be able to refuse her anything.
"Of course," he answered as he smoothed her hair with his hand.
"Promise me that whenever I come back here, you'll always come find me."
Andrew smiled and squeezed her hand reassuringly.