Refuse And Resist
By Jeannine Ackerson
Rating: R for language.
Disclaimer: The X-Files & the characters portrayed therein are property of C.C., FOX, 1013 Prod., etc. The song, "Refuse and Resist" is by Sepultura, with lyrics by Max Cavalera. No copyright infringements intended.
**4th season spoiler warning for Gethsemene.**
Relationship: Lots of Angst, UST and MSR.
Summary: Mulder is pained by the recent events caused by the truth being revealed as a lie, and decides to uncover a truth of his own.
Hi all! Well, you're probably looking at the song title and music group and thinking I've lost my mind. Never fear . . . it *is* MSR. And right now, someone is finding out the hard way never to bet The Writing Machine. <g> As it is, while you are all enjoying this, I will be busy collecting my $1 bet for turning this song into an MSR. Now, to the story . . .
With disgust Mulder turned off the video of the best and brightest in the scientific community discussing the validity of extraterrestrial life. He couldn't stand to look at it anymore.
His belief was in ruins. Where was his truth? The substantiation to his beliefs that he'd struggled for?
Where was his life?
They were all gone, as if they never were. In the space of less than an hour, he'd had his world turned upside down and then destroyed. The carefully constructed path that he'd been on had now dead-ended. He had no where to turn. No where to go.
And to top it all off, like his own fucking life being a total fabrication wasn't enough, they'd taken from him what meant the most to him. Scully. And not just physically either. No, they were taking her away from him spiritually too. Making her doubt the importance of their bond, the import of their beliefs and their search for the truth. Her pained words as they stood in the warehouse as she told him *why* she believed this man over *him* still rung in his head.
"Because he told me that the men who gave me this cancer did it so that *you* would *believe*."
They were taking her away from him, killing her just to prove a point to him. A fictitious one at that, if he believed the man from the DoD.
God, they were so stupid.
They didn't realize that they should have just killed him. Either way he was going to die. At their hands or his own. Slowly with Scully's death or fast with a bullet from a man in black's gun. Whichever came first, it made no difference to him now. There was nothing left for him . . .
Suddenly he felt the wall behind him rattle, then move ever so slightly at the low, heavy bass from the neighbor's stereo. At the sound he couldn't help but smile a sick, crumpled smile. His new neighbors had a liking for heavy metal and alternative music. Nothing like guys screaming at the top of their lungs with incoherent words to make you smile. And they didn't care about how loud it was or how thin the walls were. It didn't matter much to him though. Not like he really slept anyway.
The music that had just begun changed, another song starting up. But for a change he could make out the words, even as his mind latched onto them with a ferocity of will that he'd thought he'd lost.
Tanks on the streets
Bleeding the Plebs
Who'll be alive?!"
Not him, Mulder thought, his hand caressing the barrel of his gun for a long moment. One clean shot would end it all. End the chaos. It was a full scale war out there. The war for the truth. And now Mulder knew what they wanted him never to know. How he'd been deceived.
He tossed the gun back on the table as he recalled the "war" in his mind. Its "costs". The dead that had been sacrificed for this illusion of the truth. His father, Scully's sister, Max Fenig and Pendrell. All had died to perpetuate this lie. The bloodshed, the pain had all been to make him believe.
And so for the first time he was able to acknowledge that all of their blood was truly deservingly on his hands.
Army in siege
I'm sick of this
Inside the state
War is created
No man's land
What is this shit?!"
Oh yes, that's the truth.
He *was* sick of the shit. The being led around by the nose. Being used. By the same government that employed him. The same ones responsible for the horrors that had happened to Scully . . .
God, just the thought of her was enough to tear at his heart. She was dying and it was *his* fault. They'd made her sick to make him *believe* there were little *green* men out there screwing up people's lives and taking them away. When in fact it was all just a sick game to deceive the public. To make him out to be a raving lunatic when he could have spent the last four years uncovering their nasty little plots. Doing something productive with his life . . .
But he'd resisted. Yes, he'd refused to believe in the real truth.
And now he was paying for his blind faith.
With Scully's life.
And with her death, his would follow. For without her, he might as well be dead.
Starting to burn
Starting to lynch
Silence means death
Stand on your feet
Your worst enemy"
Who was his worst enemy? The Consortium? The Bureau? The men who lied and cheated and killed because the believed in what they were doing? Thought that they were right?
No. He knew that it was himself. The person he'd allowed himself to become. One obsessed. One uncaring for anyone or anything besides his fucking precious truth! And in his pursuit he'd gained nothing and lost everything.
Silence means death . . . truer words he'd never heard. He'd kept quiet about how he felt about her. Had let his own petty inner fears and haunting crusade keep him from loving her like he wanted to deep down.
And now, with everything crumbling around him, he didn't know how he could do it anymore.
They had little time left. How could he refuse her? Resist her?
How could he refuse himself?
It wasn't possible. He *needed* her. And somewhere down deep he was sure she needed him. Besides, there was nothing left now for him except for her.
Without another thought he got up, grabbing his jacket and car keys, heading out the door and to his car and to Scully's.
The truth was coming out and he had one more truth to disclose. One more truth to admit. The truth that he loved her and always had, even when he acted like he didn't.
It was a long drive to her place, and it seemed to take forever. This drive had only felt this long once before. The night she'd been taken. The night when their plans for her, their plot to use her against him had begun. He had been too late then, but hoped to God that he wouldn't be too late now.
With a near fish-tail of the car as he pulled into her parking lot, Mulder found the first spot and nearly slammed the car into it. It was then just a race to get to her door and look her in the eyes, begging for forgiveness and understanding.
For him to say that he loved her and that he was sorry his own folly had brought her, *them* to this.
He pounded at the door, calling her name. He didn't care if anyone heard. If they thought he was crazy. For all intents and purposes, he was. He'd been *made* that way.
Finally the bolts were thrown and she opened the door, looking gloriously like his salvation. He nearly fell into her embrace, his own reluctance and pride the only things keeping himself on his feet before her. But the sight of her was just too much for his shattered emotional control to take.
"The truth . . . the lies . . ." he began, the tears that had begun to thread down his cheeks earlier that night threatening again.
She took and held his face in her hands, staring sadly at him. And he let her. Let her touch him, let her see the pain within. She had every right to see it. Because she had spent the last four years walking through the hell his obsession had created with him. It was because of her that some of that pain was there. He knew that if he didn't love her *so* much, he wouldn't *hurt* this much.
The truth was that he didn't think he could have survived the revealing of the lies without her at his side. But if he couldn't find a cure for her . . . it wouldn't be long until she was no longer there.
And then he could officially put his quests aside with one quick trigger pull.
"Shhh. It's alright Mulder. I know," she began, pulling him to her.
Wrapping her arms around him. For all the distance they had put between one another, she was letting it dissolve now because she knew he needed her to.
"Scully . . ." he began, pulling away from her, his voice still choked and his tears began to fall. He needed to see her, tell her how he felt. How important she was to him . . .
"I know," she said on a little smile. One that was happy and sad at the same time; that tugged on his heart. "I'm here and I love you, ok? We'll find the answers together. The *real* ones. I promise."
He could only nod his head. That she loved him, knew that he loved her . . . it overwhelmed him. He hadn't ever had to say it. She'd known. Had known all along . . .
Slowly she led him to the couch and sat, drawing him down with her. And she held him until the tears and the pain subsided. For she knew that in the morning, the *whole* truth would need to be revealed. Truth that would only cause more pain.
But for now . . . for now she resisted the temptation to tell him the *real* reasons for her belief in the conspiracy. She refused to let the hopes of a man-made cancer that might have a cure taint this time together.
Because if Mulder really was right, they might not have the chance again.
Well now, I guess that fills in a little hole nicely. I could make assumptions as to what happens next, but I won't speculate. At least not here. <g> J.
Author's notes: Thanks to Bri and Deb for the feedback.
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