#if I can get Alone done then I'm going to breeze through Essence and Existence as fast as possible

[randomfoggytiger]

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part XIX): For Whom the Phone Calls, and a New Beginning

Mulder's resignation.

It's hard to tackle this subject because Requiem's lingering shadow casts a long, gray, and confuddled interpretation (or lack thereof, post here) over the whole. In the Bellefleur motel, he tells Scully "There's so much more you need to do with your life"/"There's so much more than this" on the heels of the FBI's clenching jaw and her sudden illness. But how much of that statement is spurred on by her health and losses; and how much is born from Mulder's own desire to leave the conspiracy behind, closure in tact, and chase a better work-life balance with Scully?

As previously explored in this series, Mulder wasn't ranting and raving to get back on the files after his resurrection-- only jumping at the chance when he misconstrued Doggett's intentions (post here)-- and he wasn't ranting and raving to help Monica Reyes on her own x-files investigation until she pleaded for his help (post here.) In Vienen, he sent the Galpex oil rig files to Doggett first and only forced himself onto the mission (feeling miffed and betrayed, post here) when the other agent didn't care to look into the case. In Alone, he told Scully "You paid your dues there, Scully-- more than paid them." And he meant it: in that episode and in Essence, he only got involved to help (or protect) his partner. Mulder was going through the X-Files motions without truly putting his heart into it. But yet, he was torn up about leaving. Aye, that's the rub-- at what point did Mulder know he had to walk away, or perhaps even wanted to? Is it conscious or unconscious: something he wants, or something he knows will happen, period? What is desire and what is instinct? What is self-preservation and what is inclination?

This topic, I've decided, has to largely be set aside. We won't have answers in this post; but I do think we will, eventually (in Alone at least.) Or as close to answers as the show's lack of "domestication" will allow. Until that time, we press on.

THE CLOSING OF AN OLD CHAPTER

In the seven-year journey to closure, Mulder and Scully forged a partnership together: opening old wounds in order to air and clean them, supporting each other in times of love and crisis. He stood by her side during her cancer and she cut open his mother for his sake. Then he found Samantha and she spoke to god-- key parts in their paths to separate wholeness, necessary for their complete healing.

Then he was taken, swallowed up by aliens; then she took up his mantle and headed the files in his stead. Scully grew into a woman of diamond, impervious to the scratches of others (post here); and Mulder into a man who was forced to recognize his own limitations. She knew her time on the files was closing, and hoped to find Mulder beforehand-- and succeeded, and failed; and mourned and moved on (post here.) He was returned, blinking and afraid in the light of this new life-- not just the one that moved on without him, but the one that needed him. After almost dying (again) and seeing his own partner on the (possible) brink of death herself, and witnessing the aftermath of that great and tragic loss (via John Doggett's pain), Mulder decided not to have any regrets and openly showed his partner that he had embraced their child.

And then, Vienen. And then his fears were becoming realized ("When he's old enough, tell the kid I went down swinging.") This-- where he now fits in-- wasn't just about him and "the truth" anymore. He "needed" to be out there, but his baby (and Scully) needed him to be here, wherever 'here' was to this coming child.

And finally, between jumping in terror from a burning oil rig (post here) and flying back to the wrath of fire-breathing Kersh, a decision was formed: Mulder would take the fall; and hope against hope that his gamble-- and new dependence on Doggett-- would pay off.

It's about time, too: Mulder craves simplicity, normalcy-- air freely breathed without lies to taint it. Truth without danger. An idealist at heart, he recalls old memories and halcyon days through rose-colored glasses, confessing in Home, "...This brings back a lot of memories. My sister... all day pick-up games out on the vineyard, ride your bikes down to the beach, eat bologna sandwiches. Only place you had to be on time was home for dinner. Never had to lock your doors. No modems, no faxes, no cell phones.... You know, my work demands that I live in a big city, but if I had to settle down, build a home... be a place like this."

But Mulder is also a man who tied himself to his quest. In the name of his mission, he set aside "a normal life" to find his sister; then to expose the truth; then to atone for his father's sins; then to atone for "failing" his mother. At last, Samantha's closure set him free; and the FBI's new restrictions and Scully's sudden illness made him reconsider their (or her, or his) life on the files. Since his resurrection, however, those thoughts were set aside as PTSD bloomed to the surface and heavy topics had to be processed and dangerous quests "had" to be recklessly pursued.

But now... now he has a kid on the way; and that kid cannot become another failure on his part, albatross weighing him down with regret.

RESIGNATION

Doggett arrives back at the basement, finding Mulder once again in the office: full circle-- the same players discussing the same case. But this time, there are prices to be had and consequences to pay. 

Mulder is lounging in Scully’s old area-- a purposeful placement, the former head now straying away from his place at the desk-- feet propped up on her station and staring hard at the wall when his replacement barrels in, unaware of his presence. “Where’s the fire, Agent Doggett?”

“I’ve been called up to see Deputy Director Kersh-- as have Agent Scully and A.D. Skinner. I think it’s hitting the fan,” Doggett informs him, harried and rushed. 

“You mean with Galpex Oil?” He rises, shoulders sagging and posture slumped. His face is etched with a wearied emotion-- resignation. Perhaps depression. 

“Word came down that Galpex has lost the right to drill that entire Texas oil province.”

“That oil should stay right where it is.” 

“You should do everything in your power to make sure that it does,” Mulder adds, approaching through the shadows as his feelings melt into resolve.

“...Me?” Doggett parrots, cautiously, none the wiser at the other’s affirmative nod. 

The phone rings, like before (post here); and this time, Mulder doesn’t hide that he knows who it is. “That is the Deputy Director calling to tell you there is no need to see you,” he informs, without pretense-- voice clear and almost light. He’s made a decision-- one that he’s certain, in better moments, will be the right one.

Sensing something afoot, John Doggett listens, expression hawkish in anticipation.  

“That the blame,” Mulder continues as the ring tone drones on, “has been properly assigned for what happened out there on that platform.” 

Fiddling with his fingers, keeping his head down and eyes averted, Mulder turns away and walks to the front of the desk. “I’m out,” he confesses, lips pursed as he grabs his coat for the last time. “86’d, Agent Doggett.” 

He keeps his eyes down: humbled, swallowing the sting of humiliation.

“What do you mean?” Doggett says, at rigid, bewildered attention. Tilting forward, disbelieving, he realizes, “You’re out of the FBI?”

Coat on, Mulder mutedly drawls, “Kersh could barely contain his happiness when he….” Smacking one hand against the other, scrambling for words, his shoulders shrug off the blow. “...Stuck it to me," he adds, talking past the blockage in his throat.

Finally, the ex-files member looks up, grim, letting Agent Doggett fill in the blanks.

Smart man that he is, John Doggett deduces the truth. “So you’re taking a fall?” he pinpoints softly. 

Unable to deny it, Mulder tries to shrug it off as no big deal-- head flicking away, mouth pulled into a careless ‘well, you know’ expression. 

“Not for me?” Doggett begins-- he will not let a good man take the fall in his name. 

Mulder reveals he'd predicted this reaction-- he now knows his "replacement"'s character-- by rushing in and barreling over Doggett's objections with iron determination. “For you, for the X-Files-- you’re all the credibility this office has left. You have Kersh’s ear and you have seen it now. Out on that platform. You saw it for yourself.” 

His expression is wounded and determined: a sentence unto death has been passed, but like any true seeker he must be sure another searcher will continue to hunt for the truth. This man is his only hope-- perhaps Doggett’s temperament, his particular ability to move through the world, can do the good under Kersh that he, Mulder, won’t be able to do. 

Mulder's singular "you're" also stands out. It implies what his partner will confirm in the next episode: Scully won’t be coming back. Their time together on the files has drawn to a close. As previously discussed (here and here): while the FBI is a considerably safer career than most, the X-Files department is not. Mulder can no longer take the chances he's done in the past and risk not coming home; and he takes that lesson to heart... so much so that he steers Scully away from the files, too, when she sneaks back to help Doggett.  As much as this departure pains him, Mulder can walk away in good conscience: Agent Doggett has proved his integrity and his ability to follow the truth to its conclusion. “You saw it for yourself” is a way of acknowledging that he knows the other is a changed man, just as he was changed years and years ago by his own first encounters. He trusts and believes in Doggett. Moreover, he needs him there to do the work. 

The two men stare at each other, reading the honor and finality of the moment. 

THE DAWN OF A NEW DAY

And this is when everything clicks for Fox Mulder: one second, he's dejectedly mulling over his expulsion from the FBI, and the next... the phone rings again.

Mulder shades his eyes briefly, contemplating-- 

--then suppresses a smile and tilts his head from Doggett to the desk.

In that split second, something changed: he decided to trust that the files would be in safe hands; and let go.

"Answer the phone, Agent Doggett. You’re in charge here now." Leaning forward, he offers a handshake (his first)-- a gesture to repair what Doggett endeavored to build (post here.)

There's a last flash of stark emotion-- reality setting in during the act of verbalization-- that creeps into Mulder’s eyes: pain rising over impending loss, resolution firming in the face of change. Doggett sees this; and, moved, responds in kind, clasping his hand firmly in kinship. 

As the ringtone echoes on, Agent Mulder slips out the door, arms swinging stiffly behind him. His sister's picture stays behind with his reluctant replacement-- a beacon to help guide the next wandering, lost, and lonely soul. 

And as he disappears, we are left with one thought: Mulder, despite all odds, seems content. Not happy, perhaps; but not unhappy, either. Readjusting, surely; but as quietly and carefully as a rower might over a calm, unbroken lake. Easing into a new future, peacefully. Mulder is waking to a dream come true-- abduction, PTSD, and resignation notwithstanding.

Fox Mulder is getting his happy ending.

Or so he believes.

CONCLUSION

The sun has set on Mulder's reign.

What does this mean for him? A long spiral? Peaceful contentment? Despair over losing the past ten years? Excitement for the future? A combination of everything, or something else entirely?

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!