After the Push: Questions by Leigh Alexander leigh_xf@geocities.com First posted: April 23rd, 1996 RATING: PG CATEGORY: SA SPOILERS: Pusher KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully friendship SUMMARY: Picking up from the hospital scene, the story focuses on Scully's feelings and how the events affected her. DISCLAIMERS: 1) Dana and Fox belong to Chris and Ten Thirteen Productions and the other Fox. Absolutely *no* copyright infringement is intended - I'm not doing this for money, I'm doing it for love. I *love* these characters, I wouldn't want to hurt them! :) 2) OK to archive, but if it's going anywhere other than Gossamer, please drop me a line just so I can keep track. 3) Feel free to distribute and discuss this, as long as my name and addy remain attached. INTRO: This has got to be the quickest story I've written! I was so moved by the episode "Pusher" (thanks again, Kelsey!!) that I felt immediately compelled to write *a* version of what could have happened afterwards. I have to warn you, this is not a very *happy* piece - if you want a good romance post-Pusher story then I'd definitely recommend my two favourites, "Pulled Together" and "Will to Power". However my version of events is a little less positive - it's one way I feel the situation could have gone, but I'm glad it didn't (on the show, that is). After all, that's what fanfic's for, isn't it? This is pretty much Scullyangst, not much from Mulder's perspective, so if you don't like that sort of thing, then stop reading now. As for a rating, there's no bad language or anything, so anyone can read it. Also, I haven't included the final "hand-hold in the hospital" scene, because... well..because it didn't really fit. I made up my own. Oh, and in case you haven't guessed by now, this is going to be a spoiler for anyone who hasn't seen Pusher, as well as a number of eps that precede that one! And I feel I need to add a disclaimer right from the start, that I'm *not* going to write a sequel to this - I just want it to stand on its own. Thanks to my *two* editors (count that! Two!), Eve and Kelsey, who both came through for me at the last minute with this one, providing me with insights and corrections that I never would have figured out on my own. (Each in their own special way... ) --------------------------------------------------------------- After the Push: Questions --------------------------------------------------------------- Scully took the gun without a word. Its grip was still warm from Mulder's hands, and it was slightly damp with sweat - serving as a physical reminder of the events that had just occurred. Not that she needed such proof to recall the details. Her memory could do that all on its own. She was thankful that Mulder hadn't looked at her as he'd silently passed her the weapon, for if he had, he probably would have noticed her still quaking hands. And she couldn't let him see that. Couldn't let him think that she wasn't in control... She never lost control - he knew that as well as she did. She wiped away the lone tear that had meandered its way down her cheek. As her finger brushed it aside, she felt the precipitous gathering of dampness at the edge of her eye, and she had to hurriedly press her fingers firmly against her lower lids to quell the unwanted tears. She squeezed her eyes together tightly, in an effort to erase the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, but the closing of the lids was merely an invitation to her memory to replay that final scene over and over again. The funny thing was, it wasn't the gun that she remembered with the most clarity. Whilst the memory of the weapon, with its cold, glinting steel, being pointed with lethal intent at her head could not be obliterated from her mind, the image was overwhelmed by the more gut-wrenching sight of Mulder's agonised expression. It was this image that was burned in her memory, and she had a sudden horrified thought that this would be the mental picture of her partner that would haunt her to her grave. The idea caused her eyes to snap open, and she fixed her gaze on Mulder. He was bent over, his back facing her, his head in his hands. He was lost in his own world of memory and, no doubt, guilt. She felt an aching desire to walk over and place her hand on his shoulder, reassure him that everything was going to be all right, that she was fine, that there was no harm done. But she realised that the gesture would have been futile. How could she say those words if she didn't believe them herself? How could she comfort Mulder when she knew - with a sudden conviction - that everything *wasn't* going to be all right - that their weak spot had been exposed, that she wasn't fine, and most of all that the harm that had been done in those five minutes was surely irrecoverable. Scully turned around sharply, and headed out the door. She needed to get outside, she needed some airÉ God it was stifling in there. As she walked down the corridor towards the exit, she couldn't stop the flow of memories assailing her. Had it only been twenty minutes ago that she had cautiously made her way down this hallway - peering into each room, fearful of finding Mulder's dead body discarded somewhere along the way? Already, it felt as thought hours had passed. She felt as if she'd aged a lifetime. Her hands found the familiar ties of the vest of their own accord, and unfastened them rapidly. She was barely even aware of their movements, as they slid the protective shield off over her head, and allowed it to fall, unnoticed, to the floor. Scully continued walking. She had passed through the hospital entrance without even noticing, and it wasn't until the cool February breeze hit her that she realised she was outside. She deftly manoeuvred around the police vehicles and other cars that were squeezed together in the small parking area out the back. She was vaguely aware of voices, but their words never quite made it in to her consciousness. She continued walking determinedly - she knew exactly where she was headed - and ignored the occasional police officer who attempted to accost her and ask her questions. Finally she reached the concrete steps and sank onto them with relief. For some unfathomable reason, she felt sheltered there. Protected from the atrocities she'd just witnessed. Shielded from the pain that seemed to dog hers and Mulder's lives with a persistence that was beginning to scare her. Her head was a mess. Images from the hospital room mixed with past memories. Hospital rooms merged together, the faces of vaguely familiar doctors and nurses swam before her eyes; so many faces... All the feelings of fear and vulnerability that she'd ever felt suddenly built up within her anew. She couldn't stop shivering, despite the mildness of the day. She felt a coldness reach into her, absorb into every bone in her body, envelop her with its inextricable grip. She knew that it was normal for people's lives to flash before their eyes in the few moments before they died - or thought they were going to die. She wondered with a cool detachment whether this was what she was experiencing. Whether the rush of images that still hadn't ceased their assault were some sort of eerie resume of her life. Was this the sum total of her life? ...her arms being pushed out of the way, as Tooms took aim, and prepared to plunge his hand into her skin... ...a fan sucking her in, beckoning her - wanting to wrench her apart... ...Mulder pointing his gun at her - "Get that gun off me, Scully!"... ...Lucas Henry plunging to his death in front of her eyes... ...Jack Willis sticking a gun into her face, handcuffed to the radiator... ..."Gun!": the impact of the bullet, like a bowling ball being dropped on her chest... ...in the darkness, being watched with wolf-like eyes; the sharp crack of a rifle, and the collapse of Lyle Parker only a few feet away... ...the grip of fear, as the light bulb finally waned; the terror that assailed her as the tiny mites invaded the car's sanctuary... ...Duane Barry's face peering at her through the window, the crash of glass... ...desperately hauling Jessie, in a frantic attempt to protect herself... ...the face of pure evil, his legs straddling her - trapping her, leaving her unable to fire her gun in self-defence... ...water pouring over her, Mulder leaning over to protect her... ...blood pouring out of her mouth, her hand exploding into evil... ...so tired, so tired, staring at Mulder's lined face... ...the child towering above her, strange words emerging from his mouth... ...the final prayer before gazing into the microscope... ...the inescapable grip of the chopping block... ...being thrown onto the couch from the bullet's impact... ...a slathering mouth approaching her... ...Mulder, her partner, her friend, pointing a gun at her face - his finger slowly tightening, squeezing the trigger, threatening her life with the face of a tortured angel... Her face was pressed into her hands, unintentionally mimicking her partner's earlier action, and she could feel the tears seeping out of her eyes, dampening her fingers that pressed themselves painfully against her lids. She fought with all the will in the world to repress the tears. For some people, these emotions were an escape, a viable way of coping with stress... But not for her. Dana Scully abhorred tears, and the vulnerability and weakness they invoked in her. Strength and will power were the principles that she guided her life by, only suddenly they had both deserted her. At some point during that long voyage out of the hospital - the resurfacing from hell - she had lost the very essence of her spirit... She didn't know how much time had passed when she felt him next to her. It could have been hours, or merely a few minutes. She didn't look up as he sat down. Although there were no physical indications of his presence - he didn't touch her, he didn't speak, didn't deliberately inform her of his appearance at her side - she was immediately aware of him. She sensed his arrival with the instinctive knowledge that came with the territory of being partners. Her face was still buried in her hands, and she felt only vaguely thankful for this. Earlier, when he had handed her the gun, she had been immensely relieved that he hadn't glanced behind him, hadn't seen how much she had been affected - but suddenly, she didn't care if he knew how much pain she was in. Not because she wanted him to feel guilty, or because she wanted him to comfort her, but simply because she was past caring. She could feel herself tumbling almost tangibly into an abyss - an abyss out of which there was no escape, nothing to cling to, no-one to save her. Through her hands, she spoke in a deep whisper. "Mulder, I can't do this anymore." Mulder hadn't thought it would be possible to feel any more pain than he had just been experiencing in that hospital room, but as her words sank in, he realised he was wrong. He knew with a sudden, clear certainty that this was it. This was the end. Dana Scully had finally reached the end of her tether, and there was no way he could pull her back. And with that realisation came a jolt of pain so powerful that he had to close his eyes, and press his lips together in order to stop himself from crying out. The pain was two-fold. As his partner, she had grown to be as important to his life as the X-Files. Her stability, rationality, passion and strength had given him so much... He couldn't bear to think about working on the X-Files without her by his side. But the feeling that overwhelmed his own selfish pain at her absence was an aching agony that he couldn't fix the things that had gone wrong for her. There had been so many days like this one when she had been close to death - so many incidents that could have been prevented or avoided, if he hadn't felt the relentless need for truth. He wanted desperately to go back to the beginning, to that first case in Oregon... He should have told her then, should have warned her what she was getting into, should have pushed her out of his life with a coldness that he could now never feel towards her. Her mind was made up - he knew that as well as she did, and yet he had to say something, had to make some sort of attempt to hold on to her, keep her within his grasp. "Maybe you just need a few days off, Scully... You should take some time..." Even to his own ears, the words sounded pathetic. Had she taken time off after her abduction? After Melissa's murder? He knew the suggestion was absurd. Scully didn't even attempt to reply to the direct statement, choosing instead to pursue her own line of thought. "Mulder, no matter what we do, they're always going to have the upper hand. As long as we're working together, then they can pick on our one weakness: they can turn us against each other and they've won, Mulder... they've won." "'They'? Scully, don't tell me you think that Cancerman had something to do with this?" She shook her head slowly, "No, I don't. But can't you see? It's not about him, or those he works for. It's about evil, Mulder - it's about our inability to fight against things as long as cruelty and maliciousness and spite and anger are out there... that's the truth Mulder - that's the truth that's out there, and I just can't do it anymore. I can't fight against an intangible enemy that's always going to win, simply because it has nothing to lose." She paused, and then whispered, "*I've* got too much to lose Mulder, and I'm not prepared to do that anymore." With those words, she finally lifted her head from her hands and fixed her eyes upon him. In them he saw a gamut of emotions. The one that shone out the most, the one that rose above the pain, and fear, and weariness, was strength. Her most defining characteristic - the one that he both admired and feared - radiated out of her eyes, and added weight to her words. As soon as he saw that, he knew that the decision was final. Her immutable spirit would never be influenced by his words, and he suddenly felt relieved. Despite their years together, regardless of everything they'd been through and witnessed, he hadn't been able - either consciously or unconsciously - to alter the inner nature of Dana Scully. Somehow, that core had managed to remain whole and undamaged, in spite of the agonies suffered on the outside. Scully allowed a slow smile to lift the corners of her mouth. It wasn't a smile of delight, or happiness, merely a reflection of inner peace. Her voice when she spoke, was deep and full of significance. "Mulder, I'll always be there for you. Don't ever forget that." Mulder smiled tenderly in return, and as he replied, he reached over and placed his hand in hers. "I won't." Their hands remained linked for a long time. Long after Robert Modell had been moved to intensive care. Long after the police had taken the statements of everyone involved. Long after the SWAT team had left. Long after the cool breeze had turned into a cold wind. Long after the sun had set. Long after the new day had dawned... They remained linked forever. ~ THE END ~ --------------------------------------------------------------- Thanks for reading. Comments are welcome. leigh_xf@geocities.com