Pushed by Fate by Vickie Moseley *Pusher* was a breath of fresh air for those of us who had just about had it to the eyeballs with 'the rift' that had been going on and on and on, but it could have ended very differently. Well, not in the series, of course, unless FOX was feeling suicidal (please excuse the obvious pun of that statement) and decided to end the series rather abruptly. So I got out my laptop and made a *few* strategic changes. And this is the result, a little scene that ended up on the cutting room floor. Warnings: one and a half hanky. One really naughty word, used in perfect context (sorry, no other word fit the image I was seeking to portray). No romance, except implied. THIRD SEASON SPOILER, but now the third season has started in most countries, so I hope it won't be long. Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. I don't want to infringe on any of this. I only want to borrow them for my own selfish enjoyment. Thank you VERY much. Send me comments, and even flames (I'm fully expecting a few this time :) This is payback time for some of the recent *depressing* stories. Pushed by Fate by Vickie Moseley vmoseley@fgi.net Dana sat down slowly, breathless. She didn't really hear Modell speaking. Something stupid, like, we've been waiting for you. She ignored him, concentrating instead on the glassy stare on her partner's face. When she spoke, he wouldn't look at her. His gaze was locked on Modell. That wouldn't have been so bad, if he were staring down a suspect. Unfortunately, it was more likely that he was awaiting his next orders. The thought froze Dana's heart, turned her saliva to bile and scared her to death. What would Modell force him to do? Agent Burst's face, gasping for breath, red and sweating in pain, actually causing his heart to arrest, the image flashed in her mind. Could Modell *force* someone to have a heart attack over the phone? It was unbelieveable, except she had seen it with her own eyes. This man did have those powers! her logical, skeptical mind kept telling her. She was thinking and had missed the explanation of the game. Modell's game. A very sick version of Russian Roulette. Instead of everyone getting their 'shot'--only Mulder held the gun. And before she could blink her eyes, while her cry of protest was still on her lips, Mulder grabbed the gun, Modell had released his grip on Mulder's hand and Mulder had pulled the trigger, pointblank, at Modell's head. Click. her thoughts screamed. She was yelling and Mulder was putting the gun to his own head. Her cries were lost with the explosion that came after the trigger was pulled, the hammer met it's objective and the bullet entered Mulder's brain. ****** She was sitting in the lobby of the hospital. Skinner had been talking to the head of the SWAT team. Two bodies were in the morgue, Mulder and Modell. She didn't remember grabbing the weapon out of the shocked team member's hand and killing Modell. To be real honest, she couldn't remember anything that happened after she heard the shot, saw the impact throw Mulder backward out of his chair and onto the floor in a pool of blood. She hadn't looked at him, it was unnecessary. He was gone. What was left was in no way related or connected to her vibrant, alive, irreverent partner. Her best friend. her disassociated mind asked. She looked around, lost, searching, hoping against hope to see him slouched in a corner, or leaning against a counter, flirting with a nurse. But he wasn't here. "Agent Scully," a soft, strong voice spoke above her. She didn't recognize it at first. She had never heard it with such tenderness in it. She looked up and was shocked to see the Assistant Director. "Scully, I had my secretary call your mother. A car is being sent for her and she should be here within the hour." Silence. He wasn't sure she had even heard him. "Scully, do you want anything? Some coffee, maybe?" Almost fearfully, he touched her shoulder. She looked up at him, her eyes distant, not focused. "No thank you, sir. I think Mulder went to get us some coffee. I need to be down stairs, I should get started on Modell's autopsy." She didn't see the look of anguish in Skinner's eyes or hear the deep intake of breath. He had been so afraid something like this would happen. He put some pressure on her shoulder, preventing her from getting up. "Don't worry about it, Scully. It's being taken care of. You just rest, OK?" Skinner walked away, had to turn away so that no one would notice the tear that had finally escaped it's barriers and slid down his cheek. he wanted to scream. It was bad enough that he had just lost one of the best agents he had ever had the priviledge to work with. Now it was all too apparent that he had lost *two* of them. Mulder and Scully. Salt and Pepper. Joined at the hip. The SWAT team leader was at his side. "Sir, about Modell's death. . .?" He let the question hang in the air, but Skinner was a step ahead of him. "Jusifiable use of force, Officer. My agent acted in accordance with Bureau procedure in a hostage situation. Is that understood?" No question there, Skinner was not about to let Scully go down for this. "Completely understood, sir." There would be no inquiry. It was cut and dried. No problem. ***** Maggie Scully hurried past the SWAT team members and the other Bureau personnel, searching for her daughter. She found her in a waiting room chair, staring off in the distance. But as she approached, she realized this wasn't Dana. It was Dana's shell, her outward appearance, nothing inside, no one home. Skinner noticed her as she came through the doors of the lobby and went over to her before she reached Dana. "Mrs. Scully, if I could have a word with you?" She shot a glare at him, trying to decide if her need for an explanation outweighed her need to get through to her daughter. Finally, she looked up and nodded, then followed him a short distance away. "All right, Mr. Skinner. Tell me what happened here," she demanded. In other circumstances, Skinner might have been upset at her tone and attitude. But this wasn't 'other circumstances'. "I think Dana is in shock right now. Physically, she's fine. She was in the room when Agent Mulder. . ." He stopped. He still didn't know exactly what had happened. The only person who knew for sure was staring into space waiting for her dead partner to bring her coffee. He came back from his thoughts to see Margaret Scully staring at him impatiently. "Agent Mulder apparently committed suicide in the presense of your daughter and a suspect. It is possible he was under duress. He had been taken hostage. That's all we know at this time." Maggie's mouth dropped open and her eyes went wild. "Suicide!" she spat out. "That's impossible! Fox would never. . ." Skinner raised his hand to cut her off. "Mrs. Scully, the gun was still in Agent Mulder's hand when the SWAT team entered the room. There is no question that he pulled the trigger himself." He swallowed hard when he saw the look of dispair on her face. "I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you otherwise, but it would be a lie. He died by his own hand." Maggie closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, Skinner was surprised to see the same calm, determined look in her eyes that he had come to know in her daughter. "Have you contacted his mother, yet?" she asked evenly. "No," he admitted. "I was going to do that in person. I have a flight. . ." "No. I'll go. Let me see to Dana first." "Mrs. Scully, it is not your responsiblity. It's mine. You're needed here with your daughter," he said gently. "Mr. Skinner. I loved that young man like a son. There is no way I'm going to let you go up there and tell that woman that her child commited suicide. Let me handle this. Now, if you'll excuse me." She walked away and Skinner had the uncanny feeling that he had just been dismissed. Dana looked up at the person standing above her. "Mom? What are you doing here?" Maggie swallowed. She had seen this look before. It was the look that was on the women who had just received one of 'those visits.' When a man in uniform came to the door of the base housing unit you shared with your children and your husband, when he was in port. When that uniformed man came into your home and sat on your sofa and drank your coffee out of your china and told you how very sorry he was to inform you that you were now alone for the rest of your life. Yes, she had seen that look. And it pained her now, more than all the other times put together. "Dana, honey, it's time to go home." She spoke quietly, firmly. "I'm just waiting for Mulder to finish up, Mom. He'll be here in a minute. Then we'll leave together." A faint, distant smile, meant to reassure her mother that everything was under control. "Dana," Maggie sighed, and the next words caught in her throat and tore at her heart as she formed them. "Sweetheart, Fox isn't coming. He's gone, sweetheart. I'm so sorry, but he's gone." It was like a dawning. But not a quiet, gentle dawn of spring. Rather a raw, angry, hurtful sunburst, like that of an atomic blast. And her sobs broke from her throat and she wrapped her arms around herself as tightly as she once had his arms around her, just once. In that awful, terrible moment, Dana Scully knew. She would be alone for the rest of her life. It had been hard, walking up the sidewalk to his mother's house. Dana had insisted that she should go with her mother to break the news. She still didn't remember the events of those last precious seconds. But she was finally able to realize that Fox Mulder was dead and that there were things he would have expected her to do in that event. Telling his mother was one of the most difficult things she had ever done in her life. Walking back out to her car, leaving the older woman sobbing in grief, closing in on herself, that was even harder. But there were things to attend to in Washington, and Dana had to go. She would be back. She owed him that much, and so much more. Office of Assistant Director Skinner two days after the shooting Skinner took off his glasses and rubbed his nose. This was not the way he wanted the day to proceed. He had just gotten off the phone with the protocol officer and he was in a decidedly bad mood. No, *angry*, a decidedly angry mood. He fairly punched the button on the intercom through the mechanism in an effort to call his assistant. "Val, is Agent Scully out there, yet?" he growled. "She just arrived, sir. I'll send her right in." Val looked up at Scully and gave her a sad smile. "I was very sorry to hear about Agent Mulder, by the way. He was such a nice man. We'll all miss him." Dana nodded but said nothing. She had been hearing the same phrases over and over again and she had stopped any pretense of trying to respond. Coming from some people, it was hypocracy. From others, it was sincere sentiment. But she didn't really have the strength to sort through and categorize them anymore. She was still too numb, and she let the words wash over her and hoped they left nothing in their wake. She knocked once, to give warning and then walked into the room. "You wanted to see me, sir." Skinner tried to gauge her current state of mind. She looked exhausted. Her normally perfect business attire looked thrown on, the blouse not really coordinating with the suit. Her hair looked brushed, not styled. She wore no make up that he could discern. In short, she didn't look like Dana Scully, she looked like a dim reflection of herself. he thought. "Agent Scully, do you have access to Agent Mulder's contact on Capitol Hill?" Skinner asked with out preface. Dana looked at him in confusion. The spoken word was having a difficult time breaking through the fog that surrounded her. "Contact, sir?" "Yes, any one in authority. Someone who could pull a few strings." He was staring at her, and the image he was getting was one of a house with all the lights on and no one at home. He shook his head to dispell the thought. Sitting there for a moment, a tiny spark of the old Scully surfaced. "Why do you want to one of his contacts, sir?" she asked suspiciously. "Agent Scully, I really hate to drag you in on this, but I think you would feel it's important." He stopped and played with a letteropener on his desk. "Apparently there is a problem with Agent Mulder's memorial service." "A problem," she repeated, not letting it sound like a question. No doubt about it, he now had her full attention. "Since the circumstances surrounding Agent Mulder's death seem to point to. . .well, the protocol office is refusing to consider it a death in the line of duty. The fact that the coroner ruled the death a suicide. . ." Dana was on her feet in a second, and Skinner was afraid for a moment that she might reach for her gun. "I can't. . .I can't believe," she stormed and started pacing angrily in front of his desk. "That is totally absurd! Who the FUCK to the THINK they ARE?" she screamed, choking back tears of frustration. "Scully," the Assistant Director said softly, "I agree with you one hundred percent. I've screamed at everyone from the Director on down. I'm having no effect. I was hoping some pressure from the Hill. . ." "I'm on it, sir," she said, with all the determination he had ever seen her exhibit. "If that's all you have for me, sir. . .?" "Go get 'em, Agent," Skinner said with a grim smile. She gave him the briefest of nods and was out the door. Arlington National Cemetery FBI Monument to Fallen Agents The sun was bright, but lacked any warmth. There was a strong wind blowing off the river and it sent shivers of cold running down Dana's back. She looked around her, a steely gaze running over all those assembled. She had really 'kicked ass' this time. Not only had she called upon Senator Mathenson, who was seated just to the left of Mrs. Mulder, but she had even pulled a few favors from some of her 'dutch' uncles from her father's days in the Navy. In the end, the official pronoucement was that Agent Fox William Mulder died in the line of duty while attempting to apprehend Robert Modell. There was still no mention of what Modell was being wanted for, however, the presense of the District's SWAT team did lend credence to the suspicion that Modell was armed and dangerous. End of sentence, end of case. Case closed. she thought angrily. She was purposefully keeping herself from listening. She didn't want to hear the Assistant Director go on and on about Mulder's brillance, how he was always considered one the Bureau's best and brightest, how his star will remain on the horizon even though he will no longer walk among them. All that was very nice, very calming, very. . .trite. And at that moment, possibly for the rest of her life, Dana wanted nothing to do with anything 'trite'. She didn't have time. She was too busy plotting her revenge. Mount Olympus Home of the Fates "Watch what you're doing, Sister!" the third Fate cried. "You've cut that one too short." She waved her golden scissors at a length of silver cord at her sister's feet. "Oops! So I did!" said the second Fate with a merry laugh. Ah, well, so it goes," she added and went back to her work. Fate number one regarded her sister. "What is it now, Sister?" she asked with a worried frown. "You haven't been 'peeking' again, have you?" The third Fate looked up, defiant. "And if I have?" she challenged. "Oh, Sister, not again," the second Fate moaned. "Remember the last time. . ." "And I suppose I'm to be held responsibe for not letting that horrid little Austrian house painter fall to his death. I was trying to save the poor woman he was about to fall on. How was I to know they would make him their leader. . ." "He almost took over the world, and we were cutting for *years* to keep up with his dirty deeds," the second Fate said pointedly. "ENOUGH!" shouted the first Fate, trying to end the bickering. "This gets us nowhere. You know, Sister," she said to the third Fate, "*tinkering* is fine, but *rewriting* is expressly forbidden!" "But I think we've made a mistake this time, Sister. And besides, the one she cut--I think he believes in us!" "What makes you think that, Sister? I mean, we haven't had any one worship us in. . .what, a millenium or so," interjected Fate number two. "I didn't say he 'worshipped' us, I said he believed. And face it, we could use a few believers. The way things are going, we'll cease to exist. When the last believer is gone. . ." "I don't want to talk about it!" exclaimed number two. "I made a mistake, I'm sorry, but what's done is done, it can't be fixed." She crossed her arms and pouted. "Please, Sisters, hear me out. I've been watching this one for some time. I think he's important. And I know that at least one life will be adversely affected by this mistake, maybe many more. Look at that one, down there," Fate three said, pointing off in the distance. "The one with the fiery hair?" asked Fate one. "That's the one. I'm afraid what she's plotting may end up being more dangerous than even the little house painter," she whispered. Then, seeing both her sister's glare, she amended. "Well, *almost*. Please, couldn't we do something, just this once?" she begged. The three Sisters looked down on the scene of thousands of rows of white markers and one very dark, disheartened individual who was about to turn herself over to evil. "Well, maybe this once," pronounced Fate number one. "We'll see. . ." And she gently picked up the short silver cord from the floor. And you all know the end :)>