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*~

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