#vienen

Well. We’re given brief, fleeting bits of dialogue that say a lot while showing very little-- an inevitability likely brought on by having too much to do and too little time to do it. (At least everyone had a part in the episode, I suppose.) Those dialogue pieces are vital to this discussion; and, therefore, we must begin at the very beginning.

“Betrayals” and Boys Being Boys

Vienen opens on a strikingly similar parallel to the Pilot: the skeptic making his way down the bowels of the FBI, heading towards the basement office and finding Mulder alone and entrenched in his files.

Doggett, not having expected anyone in the office, turns from wary expectation to deliberate caution: an excommunicated Mulder scurrying around the forbidden fruit could mean a myriad of things-- things Doggett doesn’t want to be tangled up in and painted as the enemy for. 

Mulder looks up, caught; but takes his sweet time pawing over the files, stacking them together, and addressing his replacement as nonchalantly as possible. His shoulders are set, his eyes are fixed, and his mouth is placed in an innocently relaxed, straight line-- he’s paying attention, playing at breezy confidence; and guarded against Doggett’s by-the-books motives and possible actions.

In short, both men are startled and aware that Mulder’s actions point to some silent message about his read on Agent Doggett’s character. Doggett, who keeps trying to get off Mulder’s bad side, sees this as a possible omen; Mulder, who took Scully’s advice in the last episode and was disappointed-- we’ll get to that-- is unrepentant and a hair shy of blatant dismissal. 

"Am I interrupting anything, Agent Mulder?"

"Nothing you'd be too terribly interested in, Agent Doggett," Mulder sloughs off, tone flat.

In the days that have followed Scully’s release from the hospital, the goodwill Mulder extended has been revoked. The olive branch still hangs between them-- an act of respect for his partner’s opinion-- but any open emotion expressed to one John Doggett has been quickly yanked back and just as quickly hidden away.

Doggett picks up on his mood; and, after dropping the office keys to the left, approaches with a straightforward, though softer, question. "Agent Mulder, what are you doing down here?"

"I'm looking into the recent death of an oil worker," Mulder responds, handing over the folder he's holding freely.

Giving it a cursory glance, Doggett affirms, "Yeah, I got a heads up on it from you a couple days ago."

Hands on his hips, Mulder reiterates, "That's what I'm doing here"-- a very telling reminder.

And there it is: a quick, there-and-gone reply that establishes Mulder’s behavior throughout the episode. Mulder went out of his way to pass along vital x-files information a few days ago; and when Doggett dismissed the black oil case, set it aside as not worth his and Scully’s time, Mulder felt the other man came up short-- that his replacement didn’t have the natural curiosity to suit the files; and that, in conclusion, he had betrayed the integrity of the work.  Worse still, this is the first time since his return that Mulder has extended his own research and efforts to someone outside the core group-- to a newcomer, to him, that arrived on the scene by happenstance and who, somehow, became enmeshed with Mulder’s friends and partner. While Scully was recovering from her abruption, he reached out to his replacement; and was met with silence and dead ends. 

Again, Doggett catches on-- the dig does not go unnoticed. Pausing, then stiffening his own stance, he attempts to assuage the grievance. "Agent Mulder, I understand you have more than a proprietary interest in these cases. But I can't help it if you're not assigned to this unit anymore."

The X-Files co-founder doesn't respond. Doesn't move an inch; doesn't so much as flinch or blink. Reading the impenetrable posture of judgment correctly, Doggett turns aside to drop the file somewhere else.

"I didn't see any reason to pursue this oil worker case."

"Ah, well, maybe you missed the fact that this victim's corpse washed ashore in Port Aransas, Texas. Massive flash burns on 90 percent of his body," Mulder reminds, inflexible.

"I read the report, Agent Mulder, if you're insinuating I didn't" Doggett smoothly bristles, turning back around in mild offense.

"Then you must also know that this man was not the only man to disappear from the Galpex-Orpheus platform that night, but one of two men." Mulder's voice begins to rise as he stresses an odd word here or there, emphasizing the key parts he believes his replacement carelessly overlooked. "The communications officer is also missing--"

"The company attributes that--" Doggett cuts in, not willing to take anymore lecturing, determined to prove he's done his research "--to an explosion on the rig. A 'blowout.' Which they say caused Simon de la Cruz's burns."

Mulder nods dismissively-- nearly rolling his eyes (which he will do later.) "Burns the M.E. said in his report were not inconsistent with exposure to high-levels of radiation."

"'Not inconsistent'," Doggett stipulates, less tense now that the facts have been established between them. "It's not what I'd call a ringing endorsement."

Working up to a paranormal explanation, Mulder's voice rises another level while he points to an arm demonstratively. "These files include the same kind of radiation phenomena. Tissue destroyed by exposure to--"

And here a magical thing happens: Doggett surprises Mulder-- takes Mulder’s profiling and personal assumptions and turns them on their head. While the VCU’s Golden Boy is correct in technicality, the motives he’d ascribed to his rival's dismissive work ethic are not. 

"--Black Oil," Doggett cuts in. He advances after Mulder's nod. "5 years ago you and Agent Scully investigated a case of a WW II plane salvaged from the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. Where a substance was brought to the surface which you describe--”

As Doggett continues to whip out factoids from the files, Mulder is pulled up short: his shuttered, protective veneer falls from his face in shock. His eyes narrow, his eyebrows lower then pitch, his body freezes, and his focus lasers in as he soaks up the other man’s prowess. He’d written off his replacement as a malevolent actor, then as a rival, then as a blind and deaf fool; now, he realizes Doggett is researched and capable.

"--as a highly contagious virus of extraterrestrial origin--"

Mulder smiles, unable to catch himself at Doggett's description. Despite the bite of cynicism lurking in its corners (similar to the one he gave Agent Reyes, here), it is a true, uncalculated grin as well-- the joy of hearing someone else, anyone else, repeat what he has been howling about for years. And respect: a tiny glimmer at the bottom reflecting his growing admiration that Doggett says what something is, and plainly.

“--that has radioactive properties and can take over a man's body. And is part of an alien conspiracy to colonize the planet, if I'm not mistaken."

"And you'd like to help, but you left your light saber at home," Mulder quips-- an acknowledgment that Doggett had read his mind like a jedi master; but that he, too, is capable of the same tricks.

Doggett responds in kind, raising his eyebrows, squeezing his eyes, and shaking his head comically. He's quite proud of himself, and he's not ashamed to be figured out quickly and easily. As long as they’re getting along and getting the job done. More importantly, as long as Agent Scully’s happy. 

In an edgier tone, Mulder asks, "How'd you end up down here, Agent Doggett?" Waiting for Doggett to look back, inquisitively open, he adds, "Kersh catch you peeing in his cornflakes?"

Doggett doesn't know what to make of this question. On the one hand, Mulder is drawing an "us versus them" line, Kersh on one side and both x-files-adjacent inmates on the other. The malevolent distrust, then, is gone at least-- a carry-over from working alongside each other in Empedocles. On the other hand, Mulder's tone is indiscernible. Is he poking and prodding; and to what end? More importantly, it betrays that Mulder is largely ignorant of how Doggett was assigned, or why-- which means Scully hasn't told her old partner about her new partner. And if Scully hasn't relayed that information to Mulder... why hasn't she, and for what purpose?

So, he keeps silent, unable to figure out where to go from here (and Mulder clocks that silence.)

At least the air is cleared between them, Doggett figures, despite their difference of opinion. 

Or so he thinks. 

ENTER SCULLY

The office phone rings. 

Mulder and Doggett lock eyes, studying each other. Both are caught in indecision, wondering if the other will make a territorial lunge to establish dominance; and what that would mean afterward.

Arm extended, Mulder inches to the jack first, looking between Doggett’s hovering, halted hand and restrained, frozen posture. With a sudden bitter twist, he dips his head to the left, looks up, and claims the phone-- acting on a thought that must have passed through his mind. 

Doggett remains still, not asserting his rights in this strange dance of seniority. When Mulder passes the phone over, turning it up with an expression of plastered invitation, he misses the latter's impossibly placid mask completely, a smile curling over what he perceives to be the former head of the files’ generous, symbolic hand-over. 

How wrong he is. 

As Doggett answers, Mulder hangs back, a more natural smile of enthusiasm slipping transiently onto his face-- a tell that he knows it's Scully on the other end, and that he can guess what conference she's currently trapped in.

It's plausible, then, that he suspected (or knew) there would be a call and hung around the office hoping to intercept it.

"John Doggett."

"Where are you?"-- it's Scully-- "The Deputy Director's waiting."

"Yeah. I'm just on my way up."

"Agent Doggett-- why didn't you tell me you were pursuing this Texas oil worker case?"

"Because I'm not."

Eyebrows raised, she explains, "Well, there's an exec from the oil company here who says he was contacted by a man in our office."

"No, that was Agent Mulder."

Looking up from his busywork pretense (fiddling with his coat pocket), Mulder slowly, subtly, unrepentantly pouts.

"What are you talking about?" Scully pushes.

Doggett, realizing that he’s been pacified and partially duped, decisively ends the charade once and for all, roping the instigator into this mess and taking an unambiguous back seat. 

"Gonna let him answer that."

Mulder isn’t bothered in the least: he’s surprised and intrigued by this turn of events. Was it more than he hoped for, or more than he expected from Doggett? Either way, there’s a puzzled emotion in his expression, something he is rapidly working out. 

Mulder’s entrance into Kersh’s office is theatrical... for him. The script describes his behavior as "enjoying his old role as agent provocateur", and it truly fits. Face aglow, smug smirk firmly in place, he advances into the room, gentling slightly after spotting Scully waiting unwittingly by the desk. 

Sliding right up in front of her, he gloats, “Just like old times."

This is a little moment that the episode half-builds on later: the knowledge that he’s open to sharing his conspiratorial meddling with Scully (e.g. breaking onto a prohibited research site in War of the Coprophages, sneaking into an autopsy bay for evidence in Fight the Future, and stealing sensitive information from the government’s archives, thrice, in Three Words) and had probably planned on roping her into this case sometime soon. He’s more openly delighted whenever their paths cross this episode (even though he is doing a lot of solo work behind her back-- a tactic Scully uses, too, throughout their career. Both are cut from the same rebellious cloth.) 

Scully, shocked, stays quiet; but she is not outwardly disapproving-- not at all to the degree she might be (or would pretend to be) if she and Mulder were alone. She remains rooted, nods, and cycles through minute alert, cautiously hesitant expressions until Kersh's patience breaks ("Now it's all making sense.")  

Mulder exaggeratedly sighs, hunching his shoulders up as if facing the big bad in a play. When Scully-- taking the opportunity to escape Kersh’s attention-- skitters off to the sofa, his eyes follow her, fondly, whispering a quiet, "Tough crowd," her way. Mulder is checking his partner's reaction to see if he's taken things too far: not that that would stop him; but he's actively clueing himself back into her moods again, publicly, and trying to alleviate her anxiety for him.

It's a tiny detail that I'm immensely thankful to David Duchovny for-- a reversal of Mulder's averted, jittery eyes in Three Words; a second act to his ease and lessening strain in Empedocles. Another small hint at his return to his former self.

An interesting dynamic begins to unfold here-- or, more accurately, the audience becomes witness to a planned demonstration of the show’s dynamics going forward:

Scully takes a seat, bowing out from the immediate proceedings whilst lobbying questions from her perch-- a position of controlled removal, one which allows her one foot in and out of the files. Her maternity leave is coming up soon; and we know she hadn’t intended to return (Alone), not with a newborn who needed her to come home each night. (The FBI provides excellent family support; but its more mainstream work is also a lower and much safer risk, by and large, than the X-Files division.) However, that doesn’t stop the pull, the allure, of the basement-- “Get out while you still can, Agent Doggett,” she says in Alone: what she means is, before you catch it and can't leave. 

Doggett now stands off to Mulder’s side, arms crossed, lips pinched, expression serious. He has become the new skeptic, the fill-in for Scully’s old role. Not surprising, since the show needed someone to fill her shoes while she filled Mulder’s, but it's undeniably pointed. 

Mulder is the only one from the old times who hasn’t changed-- more accurately, who has but hasn’t wanted to admit it. He’s relishing in poking old hornets’ nests and brandishing forth for old truths, but he hasn’t realistically assessed whether he can, or even if he should, anymore.

Vienen, then, is a case that strips away Mulder’s last self-deception: an unrelenting reminder that life has moved on, that priorities have changed for him; and that, though he might think this unwise, unfair, or even dangerous to his old work, the truth is no longer wholly tied up in the X-Files. As he tells Scully in Essence, “This isn’t about the x-files-- this is only about you.” 

By the close of Vienen, Mulder has realized what is at stake. He is stretched too thin, and worn too weary, to juggle the world and his abduction experiences and his impending fatherhood, let alone like he used to (to be discussed.)  He takes the blame for another man and walks away-- the old self-sacrificial wound coming to the fore-- but that departure is more bitter than sweet: resignation instead of peaceful resolution. Alone prods his feelings about leaving-- his avoidance of those feelings-- and ends with his acceptance of Doggett as the new head. Essence picks up that thread and Existence weaves back through it (i.e. Mulder putting his family completely at Doggett and Reyes’s mercy once he loses faith in himself.) But it’s not until Existence’s close that Mulder fully realizes that he gambled away his last chance at happiness, and almost lost. It’s not until he holds his son in his arms and marvels at HIS and Scully’s miracle that he realizes that the decisions he and his partner were forced to do weren’t at odds with who they are and what they can still do, together. The X-Files might no longer be theirs, but the truth is out there; and they gained a truth of their own besides. 

Mulder’s demeanor switches from professionally flippant to antagonistically serious when Kersh threatens, not agrees, to order an x-files agent out to the Galpex-Orpheus. 

"We're talking about an oil rig, 150 miles at sea. You can't send a pregnant woman," he nearly spits, head twisting from his boss to his partner.

Scully doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react except for a slight eyebrow twitch acknowledging her former partner’s statement. It’s true, she can’t fly; and if Mulder weren’t there railing at Kersh for her, she’d likely be poking at the same stream of logic issuing from her superior's mouth (a behavior she, perhaps, picked up from Maggie Scully, post here.) 

Kersh cuts off all protests with a conniving, “I’m not sending Agent Scully”; and it takes only a second or two for Mulder to work out who he is sending: Agent Doggett, Kersh’s (formerly) cherished potential. The doubter. Shot down and irritated, Mulder rolls his eyes, turning to catch Doggett’s implacable, knowing look. 

We’re not shown Scully’s reaction, but it’s likely similar to her new partner’s: dogged professionalism and an intent to do things right. 

NO MORE MR. NICE GUY

Of course, Mulder completely upstages Doggett’s investigation, beating him to the rig in plainclothes and sitting down to catch an interview before the rightful man shows up. 

And, of course, Mulder, anticipates a reaction-- be it a kick back or an outright challenge-- from Kersh’s errand boy. Slickly, he brushes aside the other man’s thinly-veiled confrontation ("Agent Mulder. Can I have a word with you?") Instead, he wedges him into an impossible position: "If you give me a minute-- I'm just getting filled in on the details of this investigation. Why don't you pull up a seat and introduce yourself so Mr. Taylor won't have to repeat himself."

Doggett, rightfully frustrated, is presented with two options: either assert his authority and destroy Mulder’s credibility with the crew-- in effect, throw a fit-- or let things slide, for now, in an effort to prove he’s not here to fight a petty turf war. At the same time, he's also aware that he is being unequivocally, and unashamedly, maneuvered: treated like a second-rate follow-up to a better and cleverer act. 

And while the wheels spin donuts on the asphalt in his head, Mulder continues to pin him with a rigidly territorial stare from across the room. A warning only Doggett can see: one which states he won't go down without a very loud, very embarrassing fight. 

Professionalism and grinding, instilled respect-- for the oil worker, if nothing else-- beats pride; and John Doggett sits, tamping down his immeasurable frustration with effort. 

During the interrogation, Mulder lets Doggett lead most of the questions, observing him here or there to see how he reacts to the witness's answers. Both men know the worker is lying; but before x-files defacto agent can ask another question, Mulder suddenly wraps up the interview.

"Well, I guess that's it. In a nutshell. Thank you, Mr. Taylor."

Without another word-- and in a move that could easily be mistaken for, or coincide along with, a show of dominance-- he stands abruptly and stalks off, leaving Doggett to trail after. The latter's frustrated "Agent Mulder!" is resolutely ignored-- a silent command to keep up and play along. 

Is it fair of Mulder to act out, continually, on Scully’s new partner? No. But Mulder does have a history of poor behavior when in emotionally compromising states. He rebuffed, then toyed with, then opened up to Scully in the Pilot; and since then, he's treated her with far greater respect than anyone else he's worked with. Mulder has no tolerance for anyone who tests his patience with their blind or willful disbelief-- he won't wait on them to make sweet or kiss it better. He expects them to earn their keep: prove their place, win his respect, catch on and come along. Brush him off or lie or belittle his theories, and he will do the same in return-- pettily in two-fold. Throw in PTSD from his abduction and a sense of being disrespected and swept aside, and it makes for a nasty combo. 

Further still, Mulder is also testing how much of a pencil-pusher Doggett is. He uses irritation to reveal hidden motives: make them angry enough and you will hear how they truly feel, or what thoughts they're harboring but don't want to admit. In the script, Agent Doggett is a confrontational figure, more willing to push back against Mulder's claims on the files, more likely to remind the former head that he and Scully lead the investigations now. In short, this approach worked on paper. It plays out differently in the series, however: Robert Patrick acts the character with more circumspect politeness and awareness. John Doggett's not here to make a fuss unless you poke him about his son. But exploding over Luke is one thing, and standing up to Kersh for the x-files is another. By pushing his buttons and indirectly forcing him to keep up, Mulder is also giving Doggett the opportunity to step up (which we shall hear straight from Mulder's lips pretty soon.)

Is it fair? No. Is it Mulder? Yes.

CONCLUSION

Doggett, whether intentionally or not, shot himself in the foot by dismissing Mulder's first overture of trust. However, he is not the only one to blame for this situation-- if he even is-- because Mulder is returning that perceived wrong with a double dose. 

What will result from their upcoming confrontation: reestablished footing, or equally exchanged doubts and dismissals?

The episode’s almost a third of the way through, so I doubt it will be smooth sailing.

Thanks for reading~