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Title: Live Free Summary: A during-colonization piece "I've reached the point where I hardly care whether I live or die. The world will keep on turning without me, and I can't do anything to change events anyway. I'll just let matters take their course and concentrate on studying and hope that everything will be all right in the end." =-=-=-= There was another loud explosion from the surface and the children all whimpered and cowed closer to the Group, their face buried in a woman's thigh, a man's shoulder, whomever happened to be near. The slightly unstable cave threw rock and debris down on them as the very ground seemed to shake like a bear, now awake and grumbling after an interrupted winter's slumber. "It's okay, it's okay," she was saying to the littlest one, rocking him back and forth in a crouch as the Group huddled together. Who knew the end of the world would come while they were on a bogus case in Tennessee? The randomness of it surprised Mulder the greatest: that they could have known about the impending nature of this colonization, this fight between good and evil, and yet they had still done nothing. He should have at least insisted that they make back-up plans; they should have stockpiled food and supplies for the long winter of the war. Yet here they were, holed up in a lab that the Project had at one time used, under miles of rock in the Smoky Mountains with four other couples and about fifteen children. That the ten of them had naturally paired up had at first seemed strange and out of place in the midst of the horror; now it came as life-saving and necessary. They seemed to be a magnet for all the children--now dead family who had sacrificed themselves to flame and flood had left their orphans wandering across the country. He glanced back to Scully, noting the look of absent-minded tenderness written across her eyes and gentling her hands. She wasn't paying attention to the three-year-old at all; instead, she looked out across the wide and low-ceilinged cave with apprehension and nearly fear. Mulder reached behind him and grabbed one of her hands, squeezing gently. She flashed him a nervous but grateful smile and allowed him to keep her hand. Her touch calmed him, even in the midst of This. In the middle of the Now of the war. He really hoped the rebel aliens won this one. Did it matter if they had to burn alive every test subject, every Project facility, every bridge across the world? As long as Scully stayed right near him, as long as the rebel forces destroyed all hope of colonization, Mulder didn't have a problem with it. The shaking stilled a bit and he could hear the muted sounds of children's crying and adult's hasty reassurances. The rebels had already burned this lab beyond recognition, except for a few storage areas in the back, so they had hoped to be free of the destruction of the war. It seemed that every day brought more explosions, more sounds of reality to their roof. Mulder turned and took the three-year-old into his arms, allowing Scully to grab the little girl that was huddled into her side. The boy looked surprised to be with a different person, but he snaked his arms around Mulder's neck and buried his face into his shoulder. The younger ones were crying though, and it was sort of like a disease, highly catching and really very heart-breaking to see in children. Scully looked to him to put a stop to it, her eyes pleading that he do something. For some reason, he had become the unvoted caretaker of the group, leader or wet nurse, which ever was needed at the time. The other couples had also 'adopted' children, and they clutched them tightly, shushing or rocking or cradling close. Two of the children were alone, mixed in with the group and older than most of the others. Scully grabbed them both and sat them down next to her, not wanting them to wander off. The boy in his arms had dark eyes and tight curly hair and skin the color of dark chocolate; he looked especially sorrowful this night, with the explosions ringing in his ears and his tears fresh on his cheeks. When he had wandered into them one night on the surface, he had a blanket with his name pinned to it -- Mario. Scully had asked him about his family, but he'd said nothing. He had not spoken in the short months he'd been with the Group. Desperate to make them quiet, Mulder raised his voice to be heard above them. "Do you want to hear a story?" Some heads turned to see him; one of the older ones next to Scully started quieting the kids in the back; it seemed a good distraction. "It's a story about a hero," Mulder started, settling Mario more comfortably in his arms. Scully's little girl, Ambry, leaned back against her and sucked on her thumb, seemingly intent on the story. "A long time ago, the United States wasn't a country at all. Did you guys know that?" The girl next to Scully nodded sadly and moved to lean her head against Scully's shoulder. "Well, there were all these groups of people, kind of like us, who had to live by farming and hunting animals. There were Indians sometimes, that could either be mean or helpful. After awhile, these little colonies of people decided they didn't want to be ruled by England anymore." "The country?" whispered the girl with her head against Scully's sleeve. "Yeah, England had a king at that time who was very mean to them. So they decided to be their own country. They had a war for their freedom, kind of like right now." "Like us fighting the aliens?" said one of the boys, and Mulder could read his eagerness for battle in the glint there. He was ten and had watched his mother and father as they burned in the lab; he had shown the Group where they could hide, how to get food. Mulder hoped his story wouldn't encourage the boy's bravery. Dulce Et Decorum Est. . . "In a way. . .but there are groups of aliens who are trying to help us, because they know it's wrong. . .and just as there are humans helping the bad aliens, there were humans helping the British." "In the colonies?" said the girl, whose name he had just remembered: Owlly. Looking at her, he could tell why she was called that: blonde hair and large dark eyes, a very defined, pixie face with thin pink lips. "Yes, some of the colonists didn't want to be a new country. So it was very difficult, and a lot of people were frightened because they didn't know who to trust." Mario wiggled in his arms, wiping an arm across his wet, tear-tracked face. Mulder rubbed the boy's head, which was getting decidely afro, and tapped Ambry's nose. She was looking somewhat frightened still. "There was a man who lived in what was later New Hampshire, and he was a General for the Americans. His name was John Stark, and he had about 1800 men in his army. Now, the British sent over one of their generals, a man named Baum, and he had lots more men with him. Baum kept winning, taking more and more of the land for the British." "What did they do?" Ambry cried, looking very concerned. "General Stark stood up in front of his men one day in 1777. It was cold and the grass was muddy from all their men trampling it with their boots. He told them that they had the power to to beat Baum, and that it was a war worth fighting. As the boys began to fight the trained soldier from England, the Americans began to fall, losing the battle. Afraid they would lose but knowing that they *had* to win, General Stark had one rallying cry: Live Free or Die." The silence in the cave was made more dramatic by the final cessation of explosions from the surface. A few of the really little ones had been put to sleep by the lulling deep tones of Mulder's voice, but the others, including the adults had been fascinated by the story. He looked around for a moment, stunned by the power of the story, then noticed the silence. "I say we get these little ones back in bed," Mulder said finally, standing hunched over in the small space. The others nodded and followed him out of the small cave where they had hidden themselves. A few stalactites had fallen to the floor, crushing the makeshift oven they had rigged from lab equipment and bunson burners. It could be fixed, he hoped, but it seemed shocking to the kids. "Look! It mashed our stove. . ." "What happened?" "It's all crunched up. . ." "Are we gonna be able to eat breakfast tomorrow?" Mulder sighed and grabbed Owlly's hand, leading her towards the nursery where all the children slept. The rest of the kids followed him and Scully into the room and jumped or slumped into their beds, whining about the stove or having to go back to bed. Most of them were no longer frightened, and Mario slid out of Mulder's grasp to head for his own bed. Scully began saying good-night to them all, Mulder starting on the opposite side from her so that they met in the middle. Each of the kids wanted to say something about the story or their smashed stove, and it took awhile to get through all fifteen. When the kids were in bed and tucked in, Mulder turned down the lamp and took Scully's hand. They went outside to where two of the women had already begun to fix the stove, and the others were getting ready for bed themselves. He sighed and looked at the limited destruction of their little hiding place. The stalactites had crumbled pieces of mineral and calcium into the various closed off spaces, and their own enclosure was littered with rocks. Mulder began tossing them out while Scully shook out the sheets and blankets and dusted off the meager furniture. When he turned to ask her something, she kissed him very softly, very tenderly. He pulled back, surprised. "Thanks for the story, Mulder." She smiled at him and linked her fingers through his. "It was something I needed to hear. . ." "Things like this. . .it always makes me wonder what's going on up there. Who's winning and who's dying. . ." "We'll win, Mulder," she said softly, touching his shoulder with confidence. Her eyes were dark in the dim light and sparking with a kind of desire and understanding that gave him peace. "How can you be sure?" he said, shaking his head. "We've got kids here. . .and there's no way to keep them safe." "We'll win, Mulder, because we won't give up. Just like General Stark said. . .we live free." He was touched by her faith in him, and he raised his hand to stroke a finger along her cheek. "Uh, Dana?" They both looked up in surprise, as if caught doing something wrong. One of the women, Charlie, was in the doorway, holding a baby. She was a dark outline against the light coming in from the main room. "Dana, she was crying for you. . ." Scully moved forward and took their one-year-old daughter from the woman, thanking her. Charlie quickly retreated; she was painfully shy, but good with the kids. Charlie had been playing with their daughter when the explosions had started and they hadn't had time to take her. "Hey, sweetheart," Mulder whispered. Scully moved towards him, bouncing the little girl in her arms and talking softly to her. "Hey, look Annie . . . It's your Daddy. Can you say hello to Daddy?" Anne turned her head to see her father, her blue eyes glazed with tears and her mouth turned into a pout. She was just under a year, and he again regretted not being able to see her birth, to hold her in the middle of the night when she cried. "Come here, my baby girl," he murmured and took her from Scully's arms, cradling her close and dropping a kiss to her soft head. Anne squirmed in his arms and whimpered, rubbing her ear against him. Scully stroked her back with a hand and kissed their daughter's cheek, smiling at Mulder softly. The baby settled down and her eyes closed slowly, even as she fought sleep. "Scully. . ." She looked up at him, the warmth again in her eyes. "I'll fight for this. . .no matter what. If I have to die to keep you two safe--" Scully placed a hand to his lips, stilling his words. She had bright tears in her eyes. "We were without you once, Mulder. . .I don't want to do that again." He crushed Scully to him tightly, closing his eyes. "I promise. . .I promise," he said. But he didn't know what he was promising. end
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