Date: Thu, 7 Dec 2000 22:29:25 -0500 From: Gillian Taylor Subject: NEW: War Torn by Gillian Taylor Title: War Torn Author: Gillian Taylor Email: usstrustno1@hotmail.com Rating: PG Category: V, A Spoilers: Requiem, Invocation Keywords: Skinner POV, Skinner Angst Summary: War leaves its mark on a soul, in a mind, and deep in a heart. They were his companions in a war against Colonization, his family, but what can he do when he is torn? Archive: Gossamer, Ephemeral. Anywhere else, sure, but please drop me a line so I can visit and get a cheap thrill out of having my story up somewhere where it can be appreciated. Disclaimer: Sadly, I can lay no claim to the characters from the X-Files. If I could, I would die a happy woman. Skinner, Mulder, Scully, and Doggett belong to Ten Thirteen Productions and I'm only borrowing them for my own perverse enjoyment. Author's notes: Thanks, as usual, go to my beta, Crysta. "War Torn" by Gillian Taylor The light filtered through the drawn blinds in long beams, etching patterns of shadows and light on my mahogany desk. Late afternoon was always my favorite time of day, not because that was the only time that the sun entered my office world but because of what it held. Late afternoon was always full of promise; full of something that I couldn't quantify and explain. It promised release to the weary, time for rest and relaxation before the morning began the cycle anew. I had found myself staying later and later at night to avoid that promise, however. Dreams were never my friends, and recently my dreams have held nothing but my failure to save Mulder before flashing back to a time when there was nothing between death and I but the cold steel of my gun and my mind. However, that latter time was far simpler, I now knew. It was a world without UFOs, without this half-assed belief. It was a world of clear black and white painted with the blood of thousands. It was a world before Mulder and Scully entered my life, a time before the X-Files almost completely opened me to extreme possibilities. I don't need to wonder how Scully handled her transition from skeptic to almost-believer because I am handling that same situation now. I was a soldier, a believer in the absolute authority of my nation and the omniscience of my company commander. But I was also a scared kid exposed to too much way too soon. I feel that way again. Where did the strong person that I used to be disappear to? Is he still here, beneath the surface of believer that has coated my skin? Or did I lose a part of myself when They took Mulder from within my grasp? The world is no longer black and white. It is filled with shades of gray. Gray. That is how I feel, but it is far from the vibrant darkness that pulses around Scully. My heart bleeds for her loss, though she has done all that she could to try and convince me that she is 'fine.' But all these years with Mulder and Scully under my command have given me a finer insight into the person that resides behind her cornflower blue eyes. I know she is slowly being torn apart, but I am helpless. If I could wave my hands and make Mulder return...if I could give myself up in his place, I gladly would. In a heartbeat. In a nanosecond. I would. But all means of contact have been ripped from me save for the fine tether that struggles to bend me to the whims of Krycek and his nanites. And again I am that scared kid of over thirty years ago exposed to too much too soon. What happened to the Walter Skinner of years ago? Life happened, and death, and war. I've seen people ripped apart by bullets. I've seen the brutality possible at the hands of man. Nothing compares to the brutality of tearing apart two people that have been the other's better half for well over seven years. If only I could weave these sunbeams into a beacon to summon someone or something to save him, to save me, to save Scully, and yes, to even save Doggett. If only I could weave the beams into a Batsignal, or a 'Superhero Needed' sign. If only there was a superhero to save us...if only. Instead, there is a tired AD who has seen too much in his lifetime and a tired red-haired agent with haunted eyes. There is a man who refuses to believe what his senses tell him, preferring to focus on what his mind insists must be the truth. And there is a trio of hackers who remind me of the Three Musketeers sometimes. We are all that stands between Colonization and life. We are all that remains to bring Mulder home. What chance do we have? 'Not a chance in hell,' my old drill sergeant would say, 'But hell is what we're living in boys. This ain't any frilly pageantry we're talking about. This ain't your backyard, boys. This is war. And this is the worst hell imaginable.' After thirty years, hell had returned with a vengeance. Only now, it was disguised under the wisps of cigarette smoke left behind by a man who would end the world. There could be no smoke without fire, and it was that fire that I was about to step into. Fire and ice. It coated my world now, just as it was personified for seven years in the small frame of a fiery-haired woman and the dark eyes of a haunted man. Fire and ice. Ice and fire. It was intermeshed in my two agents, but now that fire and ice was muted. Like Washington as the seasons changed, something was dying to be replaced with something new. 'Give 'em hell, boys, but don't get yourself caught up in that hell. I don't wanna go to your homes to tell your mommas that their boys ain't coming home. Look around you boys. Look at your companions. They're going to be your brothers, your fathers, and your sons. They're your family now, boys. And you better do all you can to protect your family. They're all that stands between you and a thousand Kong that're itching to rip your Yankee hides apart.' My drill sergeant's words returned to the surface of my mind again and I rubbed my eyes wearily. It was after that speech that my company was sent out into the fight, and it was then that I got my first taste of war. I know that same scared kid still lingers behind my brown eyes. I have seen war and the destruction that it brings. I have witnessed blood pouring from wounds that could not be stopped by pressure, or any amount of prayer. I lost God somewhere in those blood soaked fields of Vietnam. I had thought that God had forsaken us. That He had turned his back on the soldiers that fought wars on the small world that He had made. I thought that He didn't care as I was baptized in fear by splashes of blood and tearing agony. Then I came home and found a country that had turned its back on its native soldiers. I found hell again, only this time it wasn't because of the Kong, it was because of Americans who did not care enough for those of us that had shed blood to protect our ideals. In that disillusioned state, I returned to the church...but now...oh now, I am becoming that same disillusioned kid who just came home from war. Where is God now? Why didn't He protect Mulder? Why won't He send Mulder home? I knew that God had not abandoned us, but it was hard to accept that such pain could exist. Scully, however, knows and accepts that she walks in hell. She's walked in hell every day since his abduction, and every step has ripped away another piece of her. Sometimes, I think the only thing helping her to hold on is the tiny life that she carries within her. God, pregnant. Scully pregnant. I knew that they were an item. You'd have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to notice that. But I turned away from their relationship, privately condoning that they have a bit of heaven in their lives. It was about damn time that something went their way. And now she's pregnant...and Mulder's gone. The shadows on my desk have grown condemning. I lost something that I had no right to lose. I lost someone that should never have been able to be lost. 'The worst pain there is is of losing someone right before your eyes. Believe me boys, sometimes there's nothing you can do to save 'em. You can curse fate till you're blue in the face. You can curse God or any deity that you believe in. But it sometimes just won't save 'em. And you've got to live with that. And that hurts, boys. It hurts a whole hell of a lot. Friends are a must here, but you've also got to know that sometimes you lose friends. And sometimes, there's nothing that you can do to save them.' 'Bullshit, Sarge,' I thought bitterly, 'Bullshit.' I was no stranger to guilt, but this guilt was something that I wished that I didn't have to bear. I lost Mulder, but I gained belief in all that he stood for and in what he knew. I wish I could see his face when he learns that he's made a believer out of me. I wish I could see his face, period. 'If you think I'm a bastard boys... If you think that I've been too damn hard on you...then wizen up now. Because what I've done is coddle you. I've tried my best to toughen you up to face something that no man should have to face. And damnit, you will face it sooner rather than later. Anything that I've done to you here is a thousand times less than what the Commies'll do to you out there. It's war out there. Not you playing with toy guns and fake swords. Not you sitting at home watching TV. No, it's war. This is reality. This is blood, sweat, and tears. This is real life boys, and it's gonna hurt you bad. Some of you will come home, and some of you won't, but I hope that I've given you something over these past few weeks. I hope I've given you the means to survive. Survive, boys, or die if you must and you will have made this old drill sergeant happy.' I survived 'Nam. I survived Quantico and survived case after case that passed by my desk during my years as a field agent. I survived the climb to my current position, but I don't know if I can survive this. I lost a friend to gain belief. I lost Mulder to learn his truth. But survival might be asking more of me than I have to offer. Skepticism has died, but I'm still struggling to face the 'extreme possibilities' that Mulder and Scully have fought to expose during their years together on the X-Files. It's not the surviving that's the hard part; it's the acceptance. I cannot accept that after all this time, we are to lose to the cigarette-smoking man's legacy. As Doggett cannot accept that a young boy returned to save his brother from his same fate, I cannot accept that we have lost. We are fighting a war, and Mulder, Scully, Doggett, and the Gunmen are my companions. They are my fellow soldiers in a war that must be won. They are my family on blood-soaked battlefields. I will find him. WE will find him. '...It's war out there. Not you playing with toy guns and fake swords. Not you sitting at home watching TV. No, it's war. This is reality. This is blood, sweat, and tears. This is real life boys, and its gonna hurt you bad...' Yes, it hurts, and yes, it will probably mean my life...but I'll be damned if I lose another member of my self-imposed family. They're all that stands between the world and Colonization, and I will never let them down. Never again. ~*FIN*~ Feedback - The new drug. Gives you the quickest high out there. usstrustno1@hotmail.com