Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by CBS, 3 Character Productions, Bob Brush, and Jeff Melvoin....as well as Fox Family Studios. This is purely for fun and is not made for any profit....not one red cent....so don't sue...PLEASE ; ) Thoughts are mine, all mine though...

Spoilers: Fate---if you haven't seen this latter-3rd-season epi, chances are you will be, in no uncertain terms, spoiled rotten.<grin>

Category: Drama--Not mucch in the way of Humor here, folks.

Rating: PG---could be G even

Summary: Three POV's of a scene...Guess who they are???<grin> All are told in the 1st person.

Author's Notes: This is my first post of Early Edition fan fic, so please be gentle. I thought this through after the first time i saw the episode, Fate... That was only this past June. And i was nervous about puttng it down on paper then., but after seeing the epi a second time, i finally took the plunge. Let me know if it was worth it or not, so please r&r. Thanks to all who do. I do need a beta-reader however, as you might well guess. So please bear with any grammatical errors you find.... Thanks again.
 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Realizations of Fate
by Sharma Stancil

Part 1

When Gary emerged from the building, supported by one of the rescue team, I could barely keep myself from running and hugging him to the ground. The only things stoppping me were Marissa's anxious expression, and the fact that I didn't want to leave her in the sea of gawking people...

Mere minutes ago, I thought he was dead, gone for forever. Only the blind woman beside me had not given up on our friend...

As my tears fade awy, I now see him clearly. I see him as he comes towards us, limping lightly on his left leg. I avert my eyes from the injury quickly, though I hope it's not serious, redirecting my focus instead to look him in the eyes, those pools of self-proclaimed mud-puddle green. They're cloudy now though, glassy even, but they also seem to sparkle with new life. At this moment, in fact, Gary could even be compared to a phoenix, rising from the ashes of his former self, having been thrown into the fire little more than two days ago, and a second time just a few hours ago too. Now, however, he lives anew...

Hugging Marissa upon reaching our littlel, two-woman huddle, he then turns to me.

Just before embracing him in a fierce hug, I can't help but mutter, "I thought you were dead..."

And I swear, as I uttered this, the hug drew closer, as if to agree with me. He sighs onto my neck, his warm breath cascading over it like warm milk...

These feelings and actions serve as a reminder to me that this really is Gary standing here, hugging me, breathing on my neck, and not just some sympathertic stranger who's taking pity upon my soul. This scene is all real, with no acting nor overactive imagination seeping in...

Too soon, this brief moment of time ends. What would be the final seconds are heralded by the medic's rustic voice, suggesting a visit to the awaiting ambulance and its stretcher.

Gently, Gary holds onto my hand a few moments more, even as he's being led away by the man. Glancing up as our hands finally fall away from eachother, I manage to catch the tiniest glimpse of a "little boy" grin beginning to form.

Finally though, he turns away and faces the awaiting hoards of 'well-wishing' press.

Behind him, I continue to wonder...

Was there some force protecting Gary through this trial by ordeal? And if so, was it the same one which brought hin \\m the Paper...the same one that brings Snow's cat to him as well? In any case, whatever or whoever helped Gary this night will never be forgotten in this mind, for I'll always remember this evening as the night Gary, the man I love, was saved from a fate worse than death...dying alone...

Thank you Lucius. Without Gary, I don't know what I'd have done. I am and will be forever in your debt.

*

Part 2

When she said "He's out", I let out a huge breath of air I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

A minute passes and then I hear it: "Thank you..." a voice rasps softly, haltingly.

The words come from right in front of me. "Gary..." I say, tears welling up in my eyes.

He must've heard me, because not a second has gone by before I feel gloved fingers brush my hand. Immediately, I envelope him within a tight hug, smiling tearfully into the leather jacket covering the familiarly broad shoulder.

Just minutes ago, I think, my heart had all but given up hope, fearing that I'd never again hear his voice, touch his skin, nor even smell the hint of his sweet cologne...

I forget the person's presence beside me, as I feel Gary's silent sigh of relief on my neck. I imagine he looks dusty and weary...But I don't tell him this. That would probably just point it out to him all the more, and lord knows he's been through the wringer already. He doesn't need to be self-conscious on top of that...

Finally, I let him go, choking down an emotional sob, covering it up with a cough...

Just moments ago, I remember beseeching the recue team to keep trying, because I could feel him. But that had been before the collapse...before my praying faltered.

Next to me, Erica's voice breaks. "I thought you were dead", she says.

I know, rather than see, the loving embrace that follows in lieu of these words. I feel the essence of the couple as they dissolve into one swaying form.

And now, seemingly only seconds later, I hear the steps of another, come to take our friend and significant other away to get checked out.

I feel the warmth of a brief, sheepish grin directed at Erica and I. Then, I hear his receding steps, walking toward the awaiting ambulance...Wait a minute. There's a noticable difference in his falling steps that I've just now noticed.

I hate to trouble Erica with details, especially since she usually doesn't pay attention to them anyway, but I need to know. "Is he...Is Gary?..." I start.

She answers, voice reaching an odd near-automatic tone. "He's all right, Marissa. A little bruised and sore, but fine."
 
"What does he look like?"
 
Somehow, she knows what I mean by that question, for she answers, albeit hesitantly. "Well, aside from limping, he does have a pretty deep cut over one eye, but nothing too serious..."

She tapers off to silence once more, and I imagine that she's staring after Gary, relieved.

I don't interrupt her thoughts any further at this moment, since I have ones of my own to comtemplate.

One question blasts its way forward in my mind: What happened? I mean, what *really* happened to Gary. Somethin, or someone, must've come to him down in the carpet store ruins....I wonder if it was...Lucius...

Maybe I'll ask my friend, when he's up to it, anyway...
 

Part 3

Rating: A solid PG this time.

Summary: Final 1st person POV of an ending scene, permanently etched in my mind...and hopefully in yours as well.

Author's Notes: A hearty thanks goes out to all who commented on my first two parts of this trilogy-like fic. Paper Caper, Aaunty Pasta,  tpk757, Molly Green, Sammy, Sparky, and Vickie Jo...All of you I truely, deeply thank-you for your R & R's. To all others, who read my story,  but didn't review it, I thank you as well---for atleast taking the time to read it.

DEDICATION: TO CHAR & PAMMIE: Char for being the first to R & R all my stories and Pammie for offering to beta-read this one. HERE's to U BOTH!  ;  ) Oh to MOLLY too, for writing such a long and loving review of my first 2 parts... : ) I love you all.
 

Part 3

I resist at first, closing my eyes, blinking, trying anything to dispel the dead man's ringing voice. But, I am still unable to stop a rushing flood of faces and memories from coursing through my mind, blocking my sight for long minutes...And then, my eyes suddenly open, welcoming the vision.

The first image I see within this montage is of the girl I saved when I first got the Paper...Her name was Amanda Bailey. She was six, the victim of a hit-and-run. She was also my first personal save that got to me...I mean, really got to me. The bank heist mess the week before, my first with the paper, had landed me in hot water with the police and getting arrested for somethin I didn't do, and for trying to help...This one, on the other hand, had been commended in more ways than one...

Other faces continue the kaleidescope of people I knew only a little, people who I'd saved, but never really saw again. The only thing which kept me from failing was my Paper and how it led me to them. But, even now, surrounded by these images of early success, I still realize and know the truth: I've failed and that once spotless record is gone now, tarnished forever.

...The depressed and begrudging winner of the Medal of Honor for uncommon valor in 'Nam... A 7-year-old neighbor, who would've been killed by a cement truck, whike crossing a street wuth no traffic light...Both of these had been during the time just a few months after he'd moved into McGinty's Bar, the latter having been when a crooked money-maker appointed him as a County Supervisor. However, in the long run, if he remembered right, he had been really no more than a puppet, wanted only for his All-American honest face. THEN... a secretary pushed to the ultimate despair, when her fiancé missed his flight, though she thought it went down...That'd happened during my 'brief' first encounter with Brigatti, then a U.S. Marshal.

Still, another picture follows, this one of a little, 5-year-old girl, sealed by accident into an old, 50's-style refrigerator...Blackout looting victims... A hero cop supposed to be slain during a case, while partnered with Crumb... Another would-be suffocation victim follows suite, this one an 11-year-old boy who has the unfortunate turn of having cancer...

The last clear image I see is of the CPR instructor giving me a thumbs-up sign, as he's wheeled away toward an ambulance, which he probably would not have been able to do had I not been there to lend a hand...

All of these scenes come together, along with smiling faces, all alive and happy, to make me realize I did make a difference. But, then again, my mind still feels fit to be tied, reminding me that just two days ago, someone did die as a resultof my actions, and that a battle was finally lost.

Hopefully though, there can be enough healing so that I may win the war...

- - -

As the vision ends finally, I again look up at the doorway, only to find it empty. Snow's apparition apparently has faded back from whence it came.

I continue to stare though, through the now motionless portal, trying to conjure him just once more. "Hey...hu...Hey", I call hoarsely, desperately.

Sensing the lack of return as a sign, I turn my head slowly ceilingward, to the roomm above and anyone who'll hear me. "Hey! Hey...Down here!"

A couple minutes pass before I hear it: the unmistakable whirring of a buzzsaw starting up, as well as a shout. "Watch out down there. Stand clear..."

As the search team begins to cut a hole away, I find myself stumbling, lethargically, to my feet.

My side burns and my leg aches as I soon realize, but I should be lucky to feel anything at all I suppose...

Now that I think about it, who would get the Paper and Cat if, suddenly, I weren't around to get them anymore. I mean, who would save Chicago? Who would save the Windy City??? Not Chuck, since he's been gone for almost a year now. Not Marissa either, because, though she's one of my closest friends and is my financial partner, she's also, in no uncertain terms, blind. So there's really only so much she can do...And that leaves me with Erica and Henry. Sure, they could accomplish the tasks, that is if they stick around. On the other hand, Erica just found out about it and doesn't seem to be taking it well at all, and Henry...well...He's just a kid...

I can't think of anybody else, unless this someone, who takes over from me, is a person I have yet to meet...

- - -

As wood falls from above, landing in front of me, I step out of its path, backing away a bit as plaster and dust follows suite. Next, I feel the faux warmth of a flashlight as it shines, peering down upon my battered face. I look towards it, squinting, yet relishing the light's bathing effect, as if it held medicinal properties.

I take one final moment to look at what might've been my final resting place.

A voice from the floor above stirs me aware, pulling me foward and to the present readily. It seems to accompany the now pulsating circle of brightness: "Gimme your hand", it says.

I do, giving both wrists to him.

It grunts and shouts down reassurance, all the while hauling me up, through the ragged space he and his companions have just created. "There ya go. Gimme...There... All right...You o.k?... Alright now... Hold on, buddy...Hold on!... Yeah. I got him..."

I don't talk through any of this; I'm just too tired to. I think they realize this, because they don't push me much to do so. They probably think I should conserve my energy or crap like that, so they won't have to risk carrying me if I pass out.

It's just as well though, since I don't feel like it in any case.

Despite being pulled from my death, I can still feel only coldness, intensified by my damp clothing, as if I'm still trapped under the debris...all alone.

As the room below me disappears from view, my mind flashes back upon Lucius Snow and his parting words. "Count the living, not the dead, Gary... Count the living, Gary."

I know, even as I'm taken from the collapsed basement, what he meant by that. But, for this question being answered, there are still dozens more left in its place...

Upon reaching top-side, I'm held up by a man in a yellow fireproof jacket, who must've noticed my angled leg and my wariness to put any weight on it.

A moment later, we're out and I meet with the even colder air of the night. And I hear a shout go up from a surprisingly large crowd massed outside.

"Look! There he is!" someone yells aloud.

However, the first people I really and truely see, despite the huge maze of people and vehicles, lights and cameras, are, coincidently, the two most important ones in my life, Marissa and Erica.

I see the latter mouthing something to the former, but I can't make it out over the cheers and exclamations of the surrounding group.

With 'Yellow Coat' (I don't know his name) by my side, I find myself limping toward the duo. Tears are beginning to form on my face, but I stubbornly  hold them in.

"Thank you", I mutter to the man, sliding my arm from around his neck, dismissing him.

I'm standing right in front of Marissa.

Fumbling with her fingers, I squeeze them lightly, even though I know she knows it's me. Sure enough, barely a second goes by before she calls out softly. "Gary", she says, hugging me close.

I feel a few of her relieved tears seep into my coat collar, dampening my neck...

To think, I might've never heard this voice, never laughed with her, never argued with her, nor ever seen her cry again. Just this thought makes mee want never again to let go and hope this hug never ends...

BUT...

She lets me go after a moment with a cough.

I now turn to Erica. She has a teary smile present, akin and similar to Marissa's earlier one.

"I thought you were dead..." she says as we embrace.

I don't answer, for I'm sure my voice will break if I try to. Instead, I nod slightly and make myself content in hugging her tightly, providing physical, if not verbal, proof of my existence.

The throbbing in my head and the aches and pains of my body still grind on, but I don't care.

Eventually, Erica lets me go, though only when another 'Yellow Coat' comes up behind me, and states that I need to visit the awaiting ambulance.

I hobble toward it, hoping against hope that I won't be spending a night in County General again. Ofcourse I ignore the swarming press as they try to bombard me with questions. Basically, I smile and move along down the little path they've cleared for me.

Once there, the on-duty paramedic looks me over, hands me a bottle of Aspirin, and releases me to Erica's care. He must've read my mind on my intense dislike of hospitals...

"It'll be a little sore in the morning, but it's nothing too serious. He should be fine", he's telling my girlfriend, who has followed me.

"Thanks", we both say.

We head back to the McGinty's van, which she had apparently driven in order to get herself and Marissa here.

Sitting me in back, Erica then guides my friend to the passenger side. Once situated, our little band pulls out and heads home, parting the crowd, just like Moses did with the Red Sea...

- - -

I remember Lucius's ringing words as I look down at his photo within the old history book, Lost Chicago, sitting on my stool early the next morning:
 
If you want to go on, you have to accept the responsibility...and the loss...
The choice is yours... Always has been. Time to accept that.

What did he mean by those words. It'd been my choice all along....

If it had been, then why have I not been able to stop all the times before...Why couldn't I just quit....

These thoughts and more have indeed plague me now, even as similar ones had through the night, keeping me from sleeping for the third day in a row. So, I'd stayed up, if only to read Lost Chicago once more. I was staring at the picture of Snow and his Cat, when the familiar plop and meow sounded, as if nothing had transpired wrong in the last two days...

I open the door now, expecting the cat to be hissing.

But, again, I'm pleasently surprised by it just sitting there so peacefully, not even meowing, only purring slightly.

Gently, I stoop to pick him up, along with the Paper, and softly shut the door behind me with a light kick.

Retracing my steps to the kitchen, I toss the Paper on the countertop, placing Cat on top of it.

God, I need to give him a name, I think. This thought surprises me, since it has nothing to do with anything. But it is about time...

True, I have had him for 3 years now, and he's not gone anywhere in nearly all that time...But, I never really thought about the feline as a permanent fixture in my life, until now that is.

I guess I'll call him Bud...or Buddy.

Anyway, that settled, I watch him eat his tuna breakfast, then turn to the Paper and whatever it has in store for me, on this, a new day. My first fresh day of my new lease on life, knowing full well that it'll only be a matter of time before I'm introduced to Snow again...

The End

Email the author: NEGOTIATOR0417@email.msn.com
 

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