From: waterfallingbc@yahoo.com   
      
   Okay to archive at Ephemeral and Gossamer.   
      
   Disclaimer: The characters contained in this story are the   
   creative property of 1013 Productions, FOX Broadcasting, and   
   News Corp, and are used without permission.   
      
   Title:    Return   
   Author:   waterfall   
   Email:    waterfallingbc@yahoo.com   
   Rating:   PG-13 for mild swearing   
   Spoilers: through "The Truth"   
   Keywords: post-col   
   Summary:  When letting go does not equate to giving up.   
      
   Written for the "War for the World" (post-col) X-Files Lyric   
   Wheel.  Lyrics used were from "Revolution" by Lennon and   
   McCartney and were provided by campylobacter.   
      
   ~*~*~*~*~   
   Setting: the southern area of what was formerly referred to as   
   the Commonwealth of Virginia.   
   Timeline: during the invasion / colonization alluded to in   
   "The Truth".   
      
      
   He turned his back on the group of soldiers who had gathered   
   for the evening briefing in the small meeting room and scanned   
   the map taped to the wall for the umpteenth time.  He was not   
   reassessing the logistics or second-guessing the objective; he   
   was waiting.  Waiting for the inevitable comment about how he   
   was going about all of this in the wrong way, about what   
   should be the real focus of their attention.  Doggett knew   
   that it was coming, and he would not be disappointed.   
      
   Cue Mulder.   
      
   "What about the rock slides?  Why bother to keep routes to the   
   western camps if the earth just keeps relocating the mountain   
   range?"   
      
   "We need a road west because we need an escape route.  In case   
   you hadn't noticed, we're getting boxed in here."  Doggett   
   waved off the rest of the group and waited for them to leave   
   the room before continuing.  "If you've got a better   
   suggestion, we'd all love to see the plan."  Piercing blue   
   eyes met smoky hazel ones, but neither flinched.  "Didn't   
   think so.  Mulder, just do your job and familiarize yourself   
   with the highway."  Doggett turned back to the map and began   
   peeling the tape off of the concrete wall.  "Now, you got   
   suggestions about the slides, I'll hear them at oh-five-   
   thirty, and we'll map it out, me and you.  Until then, you're   
   dismissed.  And get some sleep.  You look like shit."   
      
   Mulder nodded, did a slow about face, and left the room.   
      
   Doggett knew better than to expect a salute; his had been an   
   informal command - no 'yes, sir' or saluting or standing at   
   attention were required when they weren't interacting with   
   other platoons; his men hadn't been soldiers before the world   
   went to hell - but the day that Mulder saluted him was the day   
   that Doggett knew he was going to die.   
      
   Whether he got it from that brain operation years back or as a   
   byproduct from his time spent in captivity on an alien ship,   
   Mulder's uncanny ability to know what would happen just   
   minutes into the future unnerved Doggett.  Mulder's sixth   
   sense had kept their regiment alive on a number of occasions   
   but only if his focus was in the here and now.  The second-   
   guessing and open defiance had worked in Mulder's favor when   
   he was with the FBI; mix in the ability to sense disaster and   
   he became that much more impossible to work with, but Doggett   
   kept him on a taut leash.  Better that he hates my guts,   
   Doggett thought, than to have him eviscerated on some table   
   for the entertainment of the invasion elite.   
      
   ~*~*~*~*~   
      
   Mulder tugged on the string for the overhead light bulb in his   
   room.  That he found the Gunmen occupying various corners of   
   the room did not surprise him as they had this exasperating   
   habit of sneaking up on him, but he would wonder why they   
   would never jump up and down and scream 'boo' at any   
   opportunity.  "So, what did you guys think?"   
      
   "About what?" Langly answered.   
      
   "About the plan."   
      
   Langly picked out one of the metal folding chairs and   
   straddled it, settling in for the discussion.  "Oh, you mean   
   the Major's plan to take the highway?"   
      
   Mulder stood by the desk, fingertips touching the small stacks   
   of paper in search of a specific report.  "Yeah, that one."   
      
   "Like we should care?"   
      
   Byers, ever the pragmatist, explained.  "We're not really   
   here, you know."   
      
   Mulder shrugged his shoulders and kept looking through the   
   folders on the desk.  "I just thought that you might have some   
   insight on it."   
      
   Frohike sat down at the foot of the unmade cot.  "Mulder, what   
   is it you really want?  You want us to tell you that it'll be   
   a disaster?  That they're walking into a trap?  That you're   
   the only one allowed to come up with a coherent plan?   
   Doggett's doing it right; he's got the surveillance, the   
   numbers on the patrols, and the timing sounds good.  You know   
   it could work; you just have a problem with someone else   
   calling the shots."   
      
   "You think I'm jealous?"   
      
   "You just don't like Doggett being the major," Langly joined   
   in.   
      
   "You just don't like Doggett," Frohike added.   
      
   Byers stepped up to the desk as if to aid in the search.  "If   
   you hadn't kept running raids behind the colonel's back, you'd   
   be the major now instead of Doggett."   
      
   Mulder loudly slammed the desk drawer shut, shifting several   
   of the paper piles.  "I don't need a rank to be right, damn   
   it.  I got people out of that death camp, didn't I?  I got   
   Doggett out of there, too, the ungrateful bastard."   
      
   "You know it, he knows it, and we know it, but that still   
   doesn't answer the question as to why it should matter so much   
   to you that others are taking their orders from Doggett and   
   not you."   
      
   "That's not it."   
      
   "Really?" Langly snorted.   
      
   "Why are you still here?"   
      
   "You need us," Frohike quietly explained, "for the moment.   
   It's as simple as that.  When you've got things right, when   
   you stop questioning every little thing and stop looking for   
   validation, we'll be on our way."   
      
   Mulder stooped to pick up the stray pages that had fallen to   
   the floor.  "Why don't you guys really make yourselves useful   
   and help clean up around here?"  He stood up and looked around   
   to find the Gunmen gone.  "Figures."   
      
   ~*~*~*~*~   
      
   "We all want to change the world, Mulder, but it's just not   
   gonna happen overnight."  Doggett set aside his morning   
   caffeine ration to join the other man at the map wall.  "Why   
   are you so dead set against this raid?"   
      
   "I'm not.  Not really.  This highway . . ."   
      
   "This highway," Doggett interrupted, "will give us access to   
   supplies and food, and we're low on both."  He glanced over at   
   Mulder to find the man's attention fixated on another section   
   of the map.  "We can't go back there, Mulder.  We can't go to   
   Base One.  We don’t have the numbers.  It's a suicide   
   mission."   
      
   "Then send just me."   
      
   "No."   
      
   "You said it yourself, it's a suicide mission.  I've got to   
   keep trying, and if I fail, then you'll finally be rid of me."   
      
   "I'm not sending you in there alone.  Listen, Mulder, I get   
   it.  You don’t think I do, but I understand it.  If it were   
   Luke in there, Luke and Barbara, I'd be leading the charge   
   early, often, and always, but then I'll be dead before I even   
   hit the perimeter cause they'd know that I wouldn't stop until   
   either I got my family out of there or they killed me."   
   Doggett took several steps to stand behind Mulder, hoping that   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)