"Manifest Destiny" (2/?)
by Kelida Flynn and Slippin' Mickeys
Mulder rolled over slowly and groaned. The light was bright and his head
spun wildly to the left. The pain behind his eyes was reminiscent of a
hang over, but that didn't go on to explain what was happening to the
rest of his brain. He closed his eyes and thought of how he had gotten
where ever he was. And he couldn't remember. Anything. Not his name, his
occupation, his family. His mind was a total blank, and he was suddenly
very, very frightened.
He sat up quickly and regretted it instantly. His head lolled
involuntarily towards his chest and he grabbed it with both of his
hands.
"Owwwww . . . Fuck me," he gasped.
The pain was ferocious and beat in his ears and roared in his veins and
spread from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. And then it
faded. As quickly as it had come it had gone, and aside from the pain
still throbbing in his skull, left no trace of its previous existence.
"It speaks." A loud voice spoke up and he jumped and spun his head to
his left, seeking out the source. "Not the richest language I've heard,
but it speaks nonetheless." A man stood up from his bunk, across the
room from Mulder's bed and slowly walked towards him. Mulder followed
him silently with his eyes. "Fox Mulder," the man stated, "now there's a
name I've not heard in a long time. I thought you were dead. When they
brought you in here, you know, I almost couldn't believe my eyes, but
I'd know that mug anywhere."
"Who?" Mulder croaked, swinging his legs over the bed and digging his
palms into his eyes. "What the hell is going on?" he mumbled to
himself, head still bowed.
The man backed up and flopped back down on his own bed, his white
scrub-like pants and shirt bunching up beneath him.
"Of all the people who could beat them, I would have thought it'd be
you." He heaved a sad sigh and continued, "I guess I *am* the only
survivor."
"Survivor of *what*?" Mulder asked, slowly meeting the man's eyes with
an irritated glare.
"This whole bloody travesty, Mr. Mulder. This colonization. This whole
wonderful expansion. This perfect instance of Manifest Destiny coming
back to bite us right on the ass." He paused and his expression
lightened somewhat. "More specifically though, the memory wipe, which
you are so obviously suffering from." He ran his fingers back through
his dusty blond hair, "You're smart. Not smart enough to avoid being
captured, but I'd have at least thought that you'd beat the memory
wipe." He sighed again, "Everything *is* going straight to hell in a
handbasket."
"Who are you?" Mulder asked. "Come to think of it, who am I? How do you
know me? What is this place?"
The man grinned a little and looked at him, "Glad to know they didn't
suck your personality out too. Still as ever curious as can be."
"Whatever you say." Mulder said, rubbing his eyes again. "I take it
*you* managed to beat this 'memory wipe,'"
"Of course," the older man said. "I'm a survivor."
"Well Mr. Survivor, do you have a name?"
"I have many names. But you can call me… Invictus." He grinned up at
Mulder. "Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
"Spellbinding," Mulder droned in his best sarcastic monotoned cadence.
Mulder leaned back, glowering at his roommate. "So, Invictus," he said
putting a nice austere edge on the name, "since you managed to beat this
whole memory-wipe thing, and since you so obviously have an astounding
grasp on my current situation, would you mind filling me in? Because as
you have so astutely pointed out, I'm having a hard time doing it
myself."
"Easy, easy, Mulder," Invictus said in a hurried whisper. "If you get
worked up, they're going to hear you. As it is, they don't know my
memory is still fully intact. As far as they're concerned, we're no
longer two men who know far too much about their plans. Plans that are
far more sinister and deadly than I think even *you* had ever imagined.
We're a couple of drones that they've disappeared and are as we speak
probably debating on whether or not to kill us. I'll tell you everything
I know. I'll do my best to help you regain your memory, but you need to
realize that unless you act as confused and ignorant as you are right
now, we stand to lose any and all hope of ever getting out of here. And
to tell you the truth, I think that there is more hinging on our escape
than anything you could possibly *hope* to fathom."
"Well Invictus," he leaned back, surprising his roommate with his
sudden concurrence, "I'm all ears." He shrugged at the man's sudden
look of surprise. "Do tell."
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
It will end where it all began--in a kaleidoscope of perfect moments.
Perfect love, perfect hate, perfect destruction, and perfect creation.
And you will die as you have lived.
Memory would remain. For you could kill a body, but never it's soul. And
what is a soul if not a memory? There was hope, but little, in the
older man's words, his narrative leaving space, but precious little for
a soul to find it's mate. And in his tale, the only hope for salvation
was in the mating of two souls that had been separated time and time
again.
During his serene introspection, Fox Mulder could as yet, still not
remember. But for some reason, the unlikely, bizarre tale Invictus
weaved before him made an odd kind of sense. He believed him, though he
had no justification as to the honesty of the man's story. For all he
knew, he could be in an insane asylum, his roommate a man living in a
world he himself had created.
And while the story held the promise of the most caliginous of dark
times ahead, it also held hope. Hope for the future, and most
importantly, hope for himself. And hope was the only thing Mulder had to
hold onto.
So Fox Mulder believed.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
Mulder sat on his bed, staring at the ground before him, digesting the
man's story piece by piece. And then he snorted. The snort turned into a
chuckle, which turned into a full blown laugh.
"You know," Mulder murmured between chuckles, once he had calmed down a
little, "you're one crazy son of a bitch, you know that? But for some
reason, I believe you." He looked the other man in the eye, "God help
me, I believe you."
"Credero quod consolarit," the older man muttered.
Mulder took a deep, pacific breath and narrowed his eyes, looking at
Invictus questioningly.
"Credero quod consolarit, Mr. Mulder. I believe because it comforts."
"Touché," Mulder nodded and sat back.
"So what do we do?" He leaned forward again and began speaking again in
a hushed tone. "If what you say is true, what do we do next? How wide
spread is this colonization? And what can I--*me* of all people--do
about it?"
"Listen Mulder," Invictus chuckled at his new friends reaction, as
though hearing his name for the first time, "the first thing we have to
do is get out of here."
Mulder interrupted before he could get another sentence out. "Where is
here again? I was a little caught up on the 'alien invasion' part of
your story when you got to the part about where we were being held."
"Michigan," Invictus answered, chewing on the inside of his lip and
looking fleetingly about the room. "Sort of."
"Sort of." Mulder stated, looking at Invictus as though he'd suddenly
started speaking gibberish. "How are we 'sort of' in Michigan?"
"Well, we're technically well within the borders of the state. Only…"
"Only…?"
"Only we're 300 feet below the surface of Lake Michigan." He looked to
Mulder, trying his best to ease into the severity of their situation.
"In the Straits of Mackinac to be precise."
"Oh!" Mulder said suddenly as if he'd had an earth-shattering epiphany.
"So we just hop into the old Bubble Mobile and have Dr. Crenshaw speed
us on up to the surface, then."
"Of course. Only we'll have to get Melvin, the freshwater wonder dolphin
to take him a message, because yesterday, while I was running a scan on
the supercomputer, my transmitter broke." Invictus looked at him with
disdain. "Look Mulder, I know all of this is a lot to swallow, but
could you just *try* to work with me here? Please?"
Mulder sighed and reluctantly nodded.
"Now, I have a plan for getting out of here, but we'll get to that
later. To answer your other questions, the colonization *is* widespread,
but the colonization is most condensed on the east coast. The further
west you move, the less control They have. Their grip is tightening here
in the Midwest, but it's starting with the larger cities. As far north
as we are, in this relatively rural country, we should be okay. But we
DO have to be careful."
"Kind of gives new meaning to the phrase, 'Go west, young man,'" Mulder
quietly projected.
"Indeed," Invictus agreed. "Look Mulder, we have to make our move soon.
Once we're out, we have to head south, down to Lansing. I have it on
faith that they, our government, are secretly working on a vaccine that
can stop the colonization dead cold. *We* have to get it."
"I don't follow," Mulder said, "why do *we* have to get it? I mean, how
can *we* stop this? If our government has a… vaccine? To stop the
colonization, why would we have to do anything? The government will use
it to take out the aliens, or whatever this vaccine does."
"The vaccine actually makes humans immune to effects of a certain…
weapon… that the aliens are using to make the population of Earth a
slave race. But Mr. Mulder, our government can no longer help. While
they've developed and continue to develop this vaccine, they've been
working with the aliens for well over fifty years. And now that the
aliens have come, our government is useless to stop them. They're trying
to buy some time by working in cahoots with the aliens, but the aliens
are too powerful. They have too much control. We're the only ones who
can stop this now, Mulder, we're the only ones that can do anything. But
we need all of the help we can get… We need your partner."
Mulder was about to question Invictus once more, when the sound of the
lock sliding back on the door silenced them both. As the handle was
turning, Invictus harshly whispered, "Remember Mulder, total ignorance!
You don't know what's going on!"
The door opened, admitting two armed men in military fatigues. They
brusquely walked in, grabbed Mulder by the arms and ushered him quickly
out into the hallway. Mulder shot Invictus a worried glance as the door
shut swiftly behind them, and locked with resounding clunk.
<><><><><><><><><><><>
"What the hell?" Richter began pacing around the corridor, his face
spitting mad. "As though we didn't have enough people here. We don't
even know who that woman is!"
"Will you calm down for once," Cynthia snarled, her hands on her hips.
"Will you shut up for once?" he snarled right back, walking straight up
to her face, close enough to step on her toes.
Margaret then stepped in between them and tried to break up their
impending fight. Scully, though, was distracted. As the shouts and
angry curses faded into background sound, she found herself following
the woman into the kitchen. Blue ocean light filtered in through the
large window by the sink, only broken up by the shape of the woman
leaning over the sink drinking water out of her cupped hands.
"I'm sorry about this," she began just as Scully had opened her mouth to
speak. "I don't want to intrude, but I can't help it. They," she said
this word with such venom and hatred, Scully could almost feel it
vibrate into her bones, "they are watching me. Us."
"It's not your fault," Scully replied. She moved closer until she was
leaning next to the dark-haired woman on the counter. "Ignore Richter.
He can be a real high-strung ass, even when he doesn't apply himself."
This caused a tiny ripple of laughter. Scully smiled back. "I'm Scu. .
. Dana. Dana Scully"
"Scully?"
She smiled softly to herself, as though she were tasting the memory.
"My . . . friend use to call me that, but he's not around anymore." She
licked her lips. "Just call me Dana."
"I'm sorry, the name just sounded familiar to me." She shifted her feet
and turned so she would face Scully straight on. "I'm sorry about your
friend." There was a slight, pregnant pause. "I'm Elspeth Parr." She
reached out her hand, her long, strong fingers grasping Scully's tiny
one.
"Nice to meet you Elspeth, under the circumstances." Scully made a
gesture in the air with her hand. They both grew quiet, shifting
uncomfortably in the newness of their acquaintance. Suddenly, there was
a crash of feet running down the stairs and a loud, boisterous voice
ringing in through the hallway.
"The prodigal son has returned! Jodie . . . ." There was a scoop in
the cadence of his voice.
Together, Scully and Elspeth migrated towards the front entrance. There
Jodie Adler stood, a brighter shade of girl, facing a lanky Asian man.
His face was comically alive, grinning like a man completely unaware of
the reality around him. There was something certainly enviable in that,
Scully thought as she moved in more to greet Nathaniel Liu, in all his
jester-like fashion.
"Well hello, who do we have . . ." Nathaniel's smile suddenly faded as
his eyes honed in on Elspeth. They flickered for a moment of
recognition, but he turned away somewhat confused and greeted the rest
of the household.
<><><><><><><><><><>
Six of them sat on the porch and watched with seeming apprehension the
setting of the sun. As its flaming orange dipped into the cool recess
of the blue and green horizon, there seemed to be a chill coming in from
the tide behind them, black and thin, sweeping through like a sonic
boom. Jodie sat perched on the railing that circled the house, her
head, made up in messy braids, resting tiredly against a column. The
only movement she made was the occasional glance over at Nathaniel who
was busily engaged in conversation with Elspeth.
Across from her sat Richter McLachlan in a wicker chair, his face still
contorted into the pose of a man too angry to be true. Scully brushed
away her hair with the full palm of her hand and took a moment to
scrutinize him. He was very handsome, she could see that, and beneath
that angry veneer in his ice blue eyes she was almost sure he was hiding
something--pain she guessed. They call carried scars miles deep these
days, she thought soberly. Some, though, wore theirs like a badge; a
right to be angry, while some carried their wounds around as ghosts and
shadows infused in and out through every cell living and dead in their
bodies.
Ghosts, Scully thought sadly. I have too many ghosts, and too little of
life around me. Margaret Scully brushed by then, touching her
daughter's hand. Scully gazed up at her mother and reached out for her
hand. She squeezed it, a fine, relieving pressure, and then Margaret
excused herself and entered the house.
" . . .fate," Nathaniel trailed off as Scully picked up the tail end of
their conversation. His hands flew in a nervous flourish.
Elspeth took a long sip of water and smiled with only the corners of her
lips turning up. "You are so full of contradictions, Nat. You tell me
that you believe in fate, but then you also go on about some resistance
and how we have to fight. If it's all premeditated by fate, then what
is the point?"
"You don't believe in fate?" Richter shot out, his eyes burning into
Elspeth the whole time. He had been watching her throughout the entire
conversation, but what his thoughts were, they were a mystery to all but
himself.
Elspeth turned her dark eyes toward him and levelled him with her stare.
"I believe in free will, yes." She said this slowly, and her voice
seemed to grow deeper and stronger. There was a razor gleam in her eye.
"I think we all manifest our own destinies. The universe is full of
chaos. Our choices merely bring a little more order."
"But our choices are made to simply carry us along the path that fate
has already set down, Elspeth!" Nathaniel said emphatically. He slammed
one fist into the palm of his other hand. "It's fated that the
colonists would come. It was fated that *you* showed up today at this
house and not another one. It is fated that there is a resistance and
that it will fight for its freedom."
"Sounds like you're just trying to find a loophole to get yourself out
of having responsibility for your own actions, Nat," Richter
interjected.
"Exactly," Elspeth agreed, a strange look crossing her face as she
turned to stare at Richter. Returning her eyes to focus in on
Nathaniel's, Elspeth continued. "But now tell me more of your
resistance."
"There's a meeting tonight." His voice fell to a hush. "Very covert
and secretive." He winked at Jodie. "Are you all interested in coming?
How about it?" Elspeth nodded, as did Richter, albeit reluctantly.
Jodie was all excitement. Nathaniel turned his attention now to Scully.
"Dana? Are you in?"
Scully turned her head up. She paused a moment, almost for the dramatic
effect, considering his offer. She pursued her lips together and
responded definitively with the strong voice she had been missing for
the last few months.
"Yes."
<><><><><><><><><><>
The contrast in between the cool night and the swelter of the hidden
warehouse room where the meeting was almost knocked Scully off her feet.
The strains of autumn lacing the air that had inundated Scully's lungs
earlier were suddenly and violently expelled as the scent of ocean
rotted wood and old tires pushed inward.
There were more people packed into that small room than Scully had seen
in ages. They were a cornucopia of races, genders, and Scully
suspected, humans and hybrids. She did not make this observation out
loud, though. From what she knew of Richter from their brief
acquaintance, it was obvious that he had a long-standing hatred for
everything and anything not human. She wasn't ready to antagonize him
any, or have him go berserk on them during the meeting.
The heat inside was generated by the numerous bodies moving about.
Nathaniel took lead and pushed through to the front up by a stage.
Scully forward and leaned up on the stage. Her cheeks were flushed, but
her hands were cold. She pressed one palm to her face and circled
around to survey the surroundings. It was dark and wild--there were
people dressed in rags and those dressed in suits. It was chaos and
confusion, but she felt a new energy as she stood there amongst the
nameless masses, her ears filled with the roar of thunder.
Nathaniel climbed up on stage and yelled for silence. Slowly the crowd
hushed and he began to speak.
"You are all here because you believe in the same cause. You believe in
preservation, in life. You believe in the human race!" A roar erupted
from behind Scully, and she was numb with the excitement flying threw
her veins. Nathaniel then quieted them with his hands. "We can be all
talk, though, but what we need is action if we want to save ourselves
from this cruel fate we have been dealt!" He winked down at Elspeth
whose face was glowing with sweat, and whose eyes were fierce and
enraptured in the moment. "Join me, people! Human or hybrid. Man or
woman. Resist their slavery, their death. Together, we have the genius
of a crowd, the strength and combined forces to win this battle!" Jodie
scrambled up on stage and grasped him in a hug. He gave a great laugh.
"Young and old, join us!"
"Hybrid?"
Scully spun around to see Richter, his jaw set in controlled anger.
Elspeth turned and stared at him. When he turned his gaze on her, she
did not turn away. Instead, she trained her stare even harder until he
looked away.
"Don't let your hate overwhelm you, Richter. I know there's a good man
in there somewhere." He did not look back.
"Your attention, please," Nathaniel shouted from the above the roar of
the crowd. "We are honored today to have with us one of the
co-founders of the resistance in the midwest."
Elspeth stared up. "What are you doing, Nat?" she asked calmly. He
reached down and grabbed her hand. "We need you, Elspeth. Speech."
Up on the stage now stood Nathaniel and Jodie to one side, and Elspeth
front and center in. She looked straight on, but was the picture of
calm. Scully shivered suddenly despite the heat. Elspeth looked almost
accustomed to this. Then she spoke, and all eyes turned on her.
"We are all afraid. Many of us, very alone." She looked down, but
Scully could not tell if Elspeth was looking at her or at Richter who
was now transfixed, perhaps paralyzed by Elspeth's presence. "But we
must dash this fear and find strength and logic." Her hand curved into
a crescent and she brought it up to her heart. "Be passionate. But
don't let yourself be ruled by your emotions. Work together, but do not
trust everyone you meet. You must be strong. This is war.
The enraptured silence continued, and Elspeth continued, her blue shirt
glowing in the dimness of the room.
"I was brought here a few days ago from a compound in Michigan. And
there I saw many men, many men and women that you might once have deemed
leaders and paragons of strength. But they were broken. They had given
in to the colonists." Her eyes glistened with impending tears brought
on by her heightened state of emotion. "But there, I saw a man that
some of you might know of. Almost a legend. They had him, but he was
not broken." She said this, clipped and concise, her face breathless
but intense. "They gave him their worst. They tortured him
psychologically and physically. They did things to him so inhuman that
your blood would chill if you knew. But this man--Fox Mulder--did not
break. As much pain as he must have been suffering, he did not forsake
us and our cause. He risked everything by not caving to their whim.
Follow his example. We *shall* win this."
The world suddenly heaved and Scully felt herself jerking as though she
were caught in a storm. The audience around her exploded, arms flying,
fists reaching toward the sky in new resolution.
Elspeth then looked down at Scully, and her face contorted. She
mouthed, "You *are* Scully." Scully nodded numbly and watched as
Elspeth leapt off the stage and grabbed her by the arms.
"He's alive?"
"Goddammit, yes!" Elspeth cried, spinning around with Scully. "*You*
are Scully!" she laughed again. Noticing Richter looking at them both,
Elspeth walked over to him and took a hand. "Will you join me, Richter?
Will you join us?"
A wall came crumbling down, and Richter McLachlan nodded, his face
almost softening.
"She is *Scully* afterall, whatever that means."
Elspeth embraced him, and Scully laughed to herself as she watched the
blush rising in his cheeks.
"Time to go," Nat called, and they left, new men and women suddenly
transformed by the re-emergence of the human spirit.
<><><><><><><><><><>
Despite everything. Despite the past. Despite the future. Despite
herself, Dana Scully was feeling it again. The glow; the slow rumble in
her stomach and shine returning to her eyes.
They walked through the beautiful Rhode Island night like worshippers
returning from a holy crusade. Scully was alive.
If Mulder could rise from the ashes, so could she.
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