Priorities
By Anna Otto
Email: annaotto1@aol.com

Rating: R
Classification: V, A for CSM
Spoilers: Biogenesis
Archive: by permission - just ask
Disclaimer: not mine... but so much fun to play with.

Summary: Smoking Man finally finds his match.
A slight warning: this could get under your skin.

Priorities

"Why didn't you knock?"

I'm startled, though not by her question.

"The fact that you have a key to my apartment doesn't give you the 
right to enter without knocking."

I forgot. I simply forgot to knock. I'm preoccupied these days - the 
plans are being put into motion, the gears are churning again. But I 
have no desire to defend myself, so I simply stand and wait for her to 
face me. Eventually, she will forgive me, as she always does. 

Or she will repress it, pretend to forget it, and go on as if nothing 
ever happened.

Diana Fowley and Dana Scully have a lot more in common than they could 
ever imagine.

When the silence draws out for too long, I sit down and light a 
cigarette. Given world enough and time, she will speak for she has no 
choice. I, on the other hand, always follow an old and true principle: 
never speak first. Diana learned a lot in my company, but this truth 
will die with me.

"You will not smoke in here." She comes up from behind soundlessly, 
and her fingers snatch the cigarette out of my hand. 

I must say, perhaps she'd learned some other tricks while we were 
apart. I will have to play catch-up. "Are you trying to quit, or are 
you trying to punish me?" 

I can feel her eyes on me. 

"Neither," she answers, then repeats. "Neither."

"Agent Scully has discovered the surveillance cameras in the X-Files 
office," I change the subject. "Next time, try to be less obvious 
while installing them."

"I will take it under advisement," Diana replies matter-of-factly. A 
good soldier, as always, carrying out orders and giving the job all 
she has. She takes reprimands in stride and uses them as ways to 
improve. Such dedication is so rare, these days.

"We will have to follow her," I continue. "It will be curious to see 
what she does."

She finally comes to face me, and sits on the floor in front of my 
chair. "It's already done," she sounds bored. Her face is hard to read 
tonight, more so than usual, and I feel a small pang of disquiet. "Why 
don't you ask me something that really interests you?"

I have to use all of my strength not to betray my emotions. I wonder 
sometimes how there could be any emotions left, but time and time 
again I'm proven wrong. Adding to my discomfort is a wish for a 
cigarette that's not just a simple physical urge to be satisfied, but 
something more primal, more animal. More human. 

"And what would it be, you think?" I'm proud of the way my voice 
doesn't shake. 

"How did it go with Fox?" Diana inquires, and I have to give her 
credit for dramatic abilities. She even manages to imitate my voice.

I smile indulgently, though suddenly I find the situation less than 
amusing. "And how did it go with Fox?" I give her the prompt that she 
wants.

"Better than I imagined it would."

There is something in her tone that sets off the warning bells in my 
mind. I study her position, the peculiar way she holds herself 
tonight. The explanation is quite simple, really, but I'm more puzzled 
than disturbed by it: she looks and behaves as though she is younger. 
Perhaps a decade younger than she really is today. It's as if the 
young and ambitious FBI agent that I met eight years ago is back, now 
armed with wisdom and experience.

I will my eyes away, to the faraway wall of her luxurious apartment. 
As many times as I've been here, I've never truly appreciated the 
collection of paintings she has. But I whisper, "Do tell." It wouldn't 
do to forget the conversation, after all. Forgetfulness is a sign of 
senility, and I don't intend to grow this old.

"The night before he broke down, Fox Mulder was very ill. Dana Scully 
was very far away. And I was very, very available," Diana's words are 
playful, but she doesn't smile. "I took off my clothes and lay down 
in bed next to him. Then I made love to him. I thought it was even 
better than the last time with him I could remember, seven years ago. 
Sex just seems more delicious when your partner is less than 
conscious."

I'm repulsed. I can't bear to look again at this good soldier and a 
horrific woman. "That's more graphic detail than I required, Diana," 
I force the words out and hope that the conversation is over. 

"Oh," she laughs softly. "I was talking to myself. You just have less 
presence these days, don't you find? It's easy to forget you're 
around."

"Perhaps your self-sacrifice would have been more of value if he was 
aware," I ignore her insolence and push logic in her face instead. 
"How are you planning to gain his trust if you're raping him?"

"I'm not wasting time on that," Diana leans close to me, and even in 
her dark eyes, I read laughter. "And I don't care about the value this 
may have for you."

Abruptly, she stands up and wonders into her bedroom. Her shadow moves 
about gracefully, plucking out suitcases and getting things out of 
the drawers. My lust awakens with a vengeance, and I remember one of 
the reasons why I came here tonight.

Sometimes, I pretend she's not just a subordinate. She is a woman, and 
one who has some power over this man. Enough power to make him forget 
what she'd just done to another, much more vulnerable man.

"Going somewhere?" I ask, getting a hold of myself. "I don't recall 
you asking for a vacation."

"I'm leaving," Diana replies from the bowels of her bedroom. I'm 
aching to go there and shake the truth out of her, but something 
restrains me. I've never stepped inside of that room without an 
invitation. I will not breach that rule even now. "You will hear from 
me soon, I imagine."

"Explain yourself, please."

She emerges, fully dressed and still much younger than she has any 
right to appear. "Fox Mulder is unfortunate enough to have picked up 
that peculiar virus that affects only select few. He can read the 
minds of others, and if he ever gets past the insanity bit, he could 
become a powerful man," she starts dreamily. "Whether you had anything 
to do with it, I will never know. But I'm grateful for this 
opportunity, either way."

My hands are on her shoulders, and I can't recall how it happened. 
"Tell me the rest," I demand. The warning bells had long ago become 
screaming alarms, and my fingers are white with the strain as I hold 
on to her.

"Let go of me," Diana demands. "You wouldn't want to hurt a precious 
commodity."

"You? Precious commodity?" I'd laugh if I had a heart.

"I'm not. But my child will be," she replies, self-assured. "Fox 
Mulder's child."

I let go of her more quickly than if she suddenly turned into a snake 
and bit me.

"I know it may be too soon of me to announce the wonderful news," 
Diana is thoughtful. "Too soon, hardly a couple days after. But it 
was perfect timing, and I just have that feeling...I never thought 
I could experience it," she sighs softly, wondrously. "But I'm 
certain that I'm pregnant."

"From that night," I finish, darkly. "You're sure."

"Yes," she smiles and her hand cups my cheek. The gesture could almost 
be interpreted as tender, but I know better. Now I know better. "Of 
course, I will do what's right when the child is born. You needn't 
worry about that."

"And what exactly is the right thing, Diana?" I inquire. I would be a 
fool to pretend I knew what was on her mind. This student had outgrown 
the teacher. Shouldn't I feel proud?

"Raising a child in the lab and monitoring his abilities," she 
explains to me as if I was dumb. "It's the perfect opportunity for us 
to study and analyze this phenomena we're dealing with. Of course," 
she continues, following the train of thought, "we did have an 
opportunity to study Gibson Praise, and now Fox Mulder, but a child... 
a child who belongs only to us, who no one will miss, who we can study 
from the very beginning... why, nothing could be better as a test 
subject."

I'm tired of reacting to her words tonight. Instead, for just a moment, 
I'm lost in contemplating whether it's possible that this woman carries 
my grandchild. Perhaps it's best if I never know.

The opportunity she talks about really is a perfect one.

"Take as much time as you need," I speak quickly. "You will have 
whatever you require for the next nine months and beyond. Just ask."

She leans in to place a kiss on my lips. "I knew you would see it my 
way." She steps back and I can't help admiring her fleeting second 
youth, and her ageless beauty. 

I want this woman, still, even after all she'd told me tonight. 

"Oh," Diana coos indulgently. I'm frightened that she's able to discern 
my lust. "I'm just not in the mood tonight. Carrying a child of someone 
who is that important changes my priorities, just a bit."

"I will go," I speak neutrally. "Please inform me of where you will be 
at."

She nods, business-like. "Everything will go as planned."

I'm struck by sudden jealousy, and I try to curb it as best I can. I 
was the one who suggested that Diana should try to assert her old 
influence over Mulder. I was the one who applauded her superior 
talents during the fiasco in El Rico. I was the one who admired her 
apparent power over him.

Now, reduced to an old man, and a rival of a younger one, I regret 
ever bringing her back into the game. But it's too late for all of us. 

"Goodbye," Diana calls when I open the door. "I'm sorry I couldn't let 
you smoke in here, but the child..."

I stumble out on the street before I finally reach inside my inner 
pocket and procure a cigarette. My wrinkled fingers feel the burn of 
the lighter when I ignite it, and I wish that she didn't know me so 
well. Nervously, like a junkie craving a fix, I inhale once, then
twice. 

The smoke filters through my lungs, sweet and warm, and I take comfort 
in it. 

I still need this more than her.

The End.

Thanks to Mel and Rachel for beta-reading. 
Feedback makes me less cranky and more willing to write happy stories. 

annaotto1@aol.com

Take Me To Your Leader:

http://www.geocities.com/~annaotto