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The stench hit her nostrils as soon as she exited the elevator. The air still smelled of smoke from the fire, a pungent mixture of charred paint, paper ash, and burned wood, but not the clean smell of a proper wood fire: there was paint or varnish in the mix. Burnt plastic. And the headache-inducing odor of new paint wafting over it all. She didn't know how Agent Scully could stand it.
Diana pushed open the office door without bothering to knock. She knew she wasn't going to be welcomed but frankly, she didn't give a damn. There Agent Scully was, sitting pretty in Fox's old office, newly furnished with a desk, two desks actually, plus new chairs and file cabinets. There were boxes everywhere filled with what Diana supposed were the tattered remnants of Fox's work, but she had no doubt that the division's new senior agent would soon have those cleared out.
"Settling in?" Diana asked, her nose wrinkling involuntarily.
Scully cleared her throat. "Is there something I can help you with, Agent Fowley?"
To hide her irritation, Diana turned away, pretending to study the mostly empty bulletin boards. "I came to ask if you and Agent Mulder had made any progress on the Gibson Praise case."
When Skinner had come to see her in the hospital, he had told her, "We take the attempted murder of a federal agent very seriously at the FBI, Agent Fowley." Bullshit, she'd thought. That's why you closed the X-Files and assigned your best profiler to shit duty. Fox might have cared enough to find who'd shot her, who'd taken Gibson and who'd been behind the entire operation.
"We've been a bit busy lately," Scully said blandly.
"Yes, I heard about how you two spent your summer vacation," Diana said, adding "I spent mine recovering from surgery to repair the hole in my lung."
"Gibson Praise is enduring far worse at the hands of his captors," Scully replied coldly.
The rest was unspoken: And it's your fault he was kidnapped. You were his last line of defense. And she was right. Diana was jet-lagged and had dozed off while on duty. It wasn't for long but when she woke up, she saw Gibson standing at the window, her last clear memory of that day. After that, there was pain and terror and darkness, until she woke up in the recovery room to the sound of an alarm going off on one of her monitors.
Diana focused on her breathing. "A.D. Skinner told me that Agent Mulder met with him to request a leave of absence," she said, turning back to face Scully. "'He was leaving to pursue other interests' was how Skinner phrased it."
Scully stared past Diana. "Mulder told me the same thing— except over the phone— only days after we'd gotten back the X-Files." She brought her gaze back to Diana. "He told me it was his choice."
Did Diana detect a hint of hurt behind Scully's reserve? That was—interesting. Maybe she thought he should have told her in person. Maybe he had no other choice.
"And you believed him?" Agent Scully was many things but she wasn't stupid. Diana gave her full credit for getting the X-Files reopened despite Fox's antics at the review board. But why would he give up the resources of the Bureau, leave the X-Files, unless it was under duress? Diana found the other desk chair and eased herself into it. Scully opened her mouth as though she was going to say something but closed it again.
"Do you know where Agent Mulder is now?" Diana knew Fox had to be checking in with Scully by telephone as often as he could, by email when phoning was too dangerous. It was obvious he was in love with her, which was another reason Diana doubted he'd left voluntarily.
Scully shook her head. "Even if I did, why should I trust you?"
Diana maintained her composure. This conversation was turning into a bad Lifetime movie of the week. She knew what she could say to Scully, if she thought she would listen. Because your former partner trusted me. Because I'm as determined to find Gibson Praise as you are, maybe more so since it might lead to the shooter. And by the way, I'm no longer interested in getting back with Fox Mulder. That ship has sailed. "Fine. Have it your way then. You have no reason to trust me. But you're going to be assigned a new partner soon. I think the X-Files could use someone with an open mind."
Scully's eyes narrowed slightly but she seemed otherwise unperturbed. "If there is nothing else, as you can see I have a lot to do here." She stood up as though she planned to escort Diana to the door.
Diana took the hint. "Well, I'll leave you to it. It was good to see you again, Agent Scully."
The stale air inside the elevator smelled like a garden in bloom compared to that office. Maybe they could get some portable fans in there and open up the basement windows.
~//~//~
After a pointless meeting with A.D. Skinner regarding the vacant position and some discreet inquiries which led nowhere, Diana was resigned to staying in the bullpen, at least until something better came along. Returning to Europe wasn't a serious option; sometimes she thought she'd rather transfer to Oklahoma City than move house back to Germany at this point in her life. Diana suspected she had lost her taste for covert operations; however, sitting in a cubicle doing background checks wasn't what she signed on for when she'd entered law enforcement. What she wanted was to find the man who'd fired that bullet and taken away three months of her life. She wanted to find out why someone wanted Gibson Praise bad enough to commit murder. Agent Scully's kidnapping, now Fox's disappearance. It had to be connected, and the answer was in the X-Files, she was certain of it.
It should have been me.
That was the thought that had kept replaying in her mind. She had been there with Fox at the very beginning. They'd found the X-Files together. Though he'd gotten the new division approved, and she still wasn't sure how, he'd been denied his request for a second position, her position, due to budget cuts and her inexperience in the field. Instead, they'd assigned her to Domestic Terrorism when she finished at the academy. Fox got the X-Files to do with as he pleased, the only condition being that he consult as a profiler when needed. He felt it was a fair offer; she wasn't so sure.
She'd spent the next six months driving around the Midwest with Special Agent Fred Belinski investigating suspiciously large purchases of fertilizer. Fred was a genial, heavy-set man who had a wife and three young daughters at home in suburban Maryland. Fred missed his family when he was out of town, was thrilled to drive a brand new Lariot rental sedan, slept like a log in the ratty motels he booked them into, and liked diner food. His easygoing nature set the farmers at ease and made what could have been a bad assignment tolerable.
In between trips, she watched Fox become consumed with his new position, while she grew increasingly frustrated with hers. She helped him out when she could but she had her own career goals to think about. She knew she wasn't anyone special, not even to him, it seemed. But she read five languages, was fluent in three, had an advanced degree and been a practicing clinician for ten years when she applied to the Bureau. There had to be an assignment that would make better use of her skill set. Finally she'd taken the job she'd been offered in Berlin, leaving Fox without a partner, in both senses of the word.
He hadn't taken it well but he hadn't tried to stop her. So she'd left for Europe, worked hard for seven years in the field, work which earned her a ticket back to Washington just in time to get involved in the Gibson Praise case that nearly got her killed.
She wasn't sure who she blamed more: Agent Spender, who'd been handed a big assignment he had no idea how to handle, Fox, whose arrogance had resulted in the whole division going up in flames, or A.D Skinner for giving Fox enough rope to hang himself. And then there was Dana Scully who she'd heard through channels had been assigned to the X-Files to spy on Fox not six months after Diana had left for Berlin. She admitted to harboring some residual bitterness. But that wasn't her main concern at present. Someone had compromised security on the safe house where Gibson had been held and it certainly wasn't her: she had the bullet wounds to prove it.
Three months after the shooting and the scars still ached at the end of the day. Maybe it was how she was sitting? She needed to remember to get up out her chair and walk around to keep from getting stiff. A hot bath and a glass of wine when she got home would ease the pain enough for her to sleep.
As she walked slowly through the parking structure after an afternoon of dialing for her dollars, Diana noticed an unfamiliar older man lurking behind a pillar near her parking space. He was wearing a black suit and a black trenchcoat. How original. But just because he was taking his fashion cues from Men in Black didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. She kept him in the corner of her eye and put a hand on her weapon.
"Agent Fowley." His voice was unexpectedly warm, even cordial.
She removed the safety. "Do I know you?"
"I know your work," he said, ignoring her question. "You're a fine agent, you've performed well barring the incident with the boy, of course." He pulled out a cigarette from a pack of Morleys and lit it with an expensive looking silver lighter.
That case was highly classified. "Who are you? What do you want from me?" For all she knew, this could be him, he could be the shooter.
He put the cigarette to his lips and took a long draw, then exhaled. Like most ex-smokers, Diana hated the smell of smoke. "My name is not important. I understand you are interested in taking Agent Mulder's place on the X-Files."
"What do you know about Agent Mulder's disappearance?" She took her eyes off him just long to glance quickly around the structure. Damn. It was only 4:45. Most of the staff wouldn't be leaving for another fifteen minutes at least. Why had she chosen to leave early today?
"What makes you think I know anything more than you do, Agent Fowley? All I know is the official story, the same one you've been given by our government officials. In any case, that's not why I'm here. I'm here to help you. I understand you'd like to transfer to the post recently vacated by Agent Mulder. You want to work the X-Files."
This was a man who was used to getting what he wanted, that much was clear. But maybe he could be—managed. "I'm listening."
He continued to puff away as she held his gaze. "I'm in a position to make that happen."
Right. Diana was tired. It was nearly five now and traffic getting out of the city was going to be horrendous. "Fine, make it happen. Then we'll talk. I've got to go."
~//~//~
Investigating with Agent Scully wasn't the chore she'd expected it would be. She booked them into double rooms in better quality motels, avoided diners and didn't snore. Diana didn't mind sharing a room if it bought them more comfortable quarters for the same money, and Scully agreed, although Diana suspected she just wanted to keep an eye on her. They rarely argued over their work. Diana presented her theory, Scully refuted it; if they couldn't come to an agreement, they filed separate reports and moved on to the next case. She was certainly easier on the eyes than Fred Belinski.
The Smoking Man called her periodically to "check in" but was easily mollified by assurances that Agent Scully was convinced nothing paranormal had happened in the history of the known universe.
This was less true of Agent Scully than Diana once believed. She was a scientist and a skeptic but her methodology was sound and she wasn't above playing an occasional hunch. Together they solved crimes; even if Scully didn't want to admit it, they made a damn good team. They rarely mentioned Fox, or Mulder as Scully preferred to call him.
After closer observation, it wasn't difficult to see why Fox was attracted to her, although Scully wasn't his usual type. Fox liked tall, long-legged brunettes if Diana and that woman he'd been with in England—Phoebe Something—were representative. But Dana Scully was intelligent, knowledgeable, loyal to a fault and a tenacious investigator. She was also emotionally reserved, but given his family background that might feel familiar to Fox, perhaps even safe. There was a strength to her that even Diana found herself being drawn to, though she was careful about keeping that under wraps.
Diana suspected Agent Scully was covertly investigating the events of the past summer but so far she had been unwilling to share any of the information. Diana's own investigation had stalled out. During the months she had been recuperating and Scully and Fox had been having their own adventures, the trail had gone cold. She still kept an eye out for anyone answering to Gibson Praise's description. But at least the fans she'd borrowed from the custodial staff and her collection of Boston ferns had managed to improve the air in the basement, a small victory for her and a relief for their occasional visitor. It was good to be able to breathe.
Four weeks after she started on the X-Files, she received an unanticipated call on her cell. They were out in the field in the middle of a case; as usual, Scully was driving, which suited Diana just fine.
"This is Agent Fowley. How may I help you?"
"I've received word that your partner's —side project—is going well, too well for a certain faction within the Bureau. Be careful."
"Who is this?" She lowered her voice and turned away from Scully. He's breaking his routine.
"You know who I am." She heard him exhale.
"Who gave you access to that information?" she said coolly.
"Let me remind you, Agent Fowley, I don't work for you. I don't provide you with information, you provide it to me."
Click.
Was it a warning? A threat? Perhaps it was both.
She started smoking again that same day, without bothering to try to talk herself out of it. After she'd been shot, Diana had worked through her feelings, but the call from the Smoking Man reactivated her anxiety. The nicotine calmed her and made her more alert. Insomnia was a problem, so to stay vigilant she smoked even more. One after the other, she vetoed other possible coping behaviors. She was already ruining her complexion with the cigarettes, no need to add alcohol. Her job was now too hazardous to risk bringing someone else into their orbit, so that ruled out even casual sex. Prescription drugs? She thought her paranoia might be what was keeping her alive. Seeing a Bureau shrink? Too dangerous. It was all too dangerous.
Even before she had set foot back on American soil, Diana had surmised working on the X-Files was risky. She had the clearance, she'd read the official reports. She knew about Fox's father, about Scully's sister, about her abduction and her return. None of that had mattered. Diana was a seasoned agent; danger came with the territory. She wanted what she believed should have been hers all along: a job at headquarters in DC, Fox Mulder and the X-Files. Well, Diana, two out of three isn't bad. Even if her reasons for coveting the job had changed, she still believed this was where she belonged. Life on the X-Files didn't leave much room for a social life. Anyway, loneliness was the least of her problems.
"I'm fine," she told Scully. A lie that neither of them believed.
~//~//~
She lay on her bed in their room at the Peppertree Inn, staring up at the ceiling. The case was in Agency but it was too small a town to support a motel so they were commuting from St. Joseph. She rolled onto her left side to check the clock. It was a little after 1:00 a.m. She stood up and slipped on her shoes and her coat, making sure she had a lighter and a pack of Morleys in the pocket. She knew she wouldn't wake Scully—the woman slept like the dead—but she'd be pissy if she woke up and imagined a trace of smoke in their room. Diana didn't know why since Scully was unable to detect the odor of burning cigarettes or much of anything else. She'd mentioned in passing it was a side effect of the radiation treatment for her cancer. Diana wondered if the same fate would have awaited her if she'd been assigned to the X-Files rather than Scully.
After closing their door quietly, she paused for a moment, looking out over the railing of the second floor walkway onto the parking lot. It got chilly at night in Missouri in early November. The air was crisp and clear and the lights from this small suburban community weren't bright enough to block the stars. She buttoned up her coat and turned the collar up, lit her cigarette and waited for the elevator to take her to the ground floor. She had her phone and her keys. If she got cold, she could sit in the rental car while she finished the cigarette.
It was a quiet night on a quiet street. The shrill ring of the cell phone startled her out of her revery.
Her hand trembled as she punched the button.
"Diana. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
His use of her first name grated but she refused to allow it to show. "You know we usually share a room so this must be important if you're risking calling me in the middle of the night."
"I'm surprised at you. There's no risk. We know you aren't in your room."
Diana had wondered about how much surveillance they were under. Now she knew. "Fine. What do you want?"
"You and Agent Scully will receive an assignment from A.D. Skinner when you return to Washington. There will be a file folder on her desk in the office. I need you to take it before she sees it and destroy it."
This was serious. He was asking her to commit a felony, to interfere with a federal investigation. "What sort of an assignment are we talking about here?" Maybe he was setting her up. Bad as it was, that might be the best-case scenario. "What do you think that will accomplish? A.D. Skinner will still give us the case, whether I destroy the folder or not." Diana started walking quickly back to the room. She would have to look for the bugs first, then pack.
"I wasn't asking for your input. It's a delaying tactic, of course. I'll be in touch."
Click.
A delaying tactic. And probably only the first of many. She should have seen this coming. Diana thought back to the report Fox had submitted, later redacted and resubmitted by Agent Scully. Diana had read his version. She'd tried hard to make sense of Fox's tale of bees and viruses, a spaceship hidden under the ice in Antarctica, and "long-clawed spacelings," as A.D. Maslin had so colorfully described them. Somehow it all tied together: Gibson Praise, her shooting, the massive explosion in Dallas, Scully's abduction and Fox's disappearance. And now her assignment on the X-Files. Damn.
Quickly and quietly, working through the night as her partner slept unaware, Diana packed her belongings, and located the bugs. She decided to shower and dress before disabling them, reasoning that doing so would send up a red flag. As always, timing was everything. Maybe this was the day she was going to die but at least she'd be clean and well-groomed.
She'd had a good body and not just for her age. Diana hadn't thought of herself as vain but it was hard to see the damage on a daily basis. Mostly she tried not to look. Diana had caught a glimpse of her chest scars in the fogged-over bathroom mirror. She turned the blow dryer up to maximum and cleared the mirror's surface. She had four scars in total: the entry wound under her ribcage, the matching scar in the back from the exit wound, which she had only looked at once since she'd left the hospital, the chest tube scar and the thoracotomy scar, which ran from her mid chest to mid back. In front, most of it was hidden under her right breast. She'd been unable to wear a bra for weeks after the surgery and heaven knows she needed a brassiere. The scars were fading, from an angry red to a medium pink. In another six months, they'd be thin, flesh-colored lines if she were lucky. The emotional scars were harder to erase.
Over the sound of the running water and the blow dryer, she hadn't noticed the light switching on in the bedroom or heard Scully walking around. Diana was therefore surprised to find her dressed and standing by the door, her luggage placed next to Diana's.
"Good morning." Scully had her gun pointed it at Diana. "Going somewhere?"
Diana put her hands up slowly, shaking her head. No, no. Don't try to make me talk in here. "My, but you're up bright and early. It's only 4:00 a.m."
"Don't worry. I disabled the bugs. The one in the overhead light, and two more in the outlets, right? Now tell me, where is Mulder?"
Is he all she thinks about? "I have no idea what you are talking about. Wait, you knew about the bugs? I didn't know about the bugs."
Scully gave her a look. "I knew you couldn't be trusted," she mused. "If I were to kill you now, no one would miss you. No one would know for days, maybe even weeks." Her tone hardened. "So you had better start talking. Where were you headed? Who are you working with? What is your agenda?"
Jesus. "I had to pull some strings to get this job. It turned out to be more dangerous than I'd thought. I need to disappear for awhile." Diana could feel the sweat breaking out on her forehead.
"Who is coming after you? Are they after me, too?" Scully demanded.
"I don't know. This man, the one that helped me, ordered me to destroy a file for a case waiting for us back in Washington. I couldn't do it. That's why I was running." Breathe, Diana.
"What sort of case? Did it have to do with Mulder?"
"Doesn't everything?" Diana said, with only a trace of irony. "Indirectly, perhaps. I think it has to do with the case you're working on the side." Scully's face went blank. "Oh stop it. The case. The bees, Gibson Praise, the virus, the spaceships, the aliens, the worldwide governmental conspiracy and the coming global apocalypse?" That felt good. Sarcasm steadied her.
"Oh. That case." Scully looked embarrassed. "I didn't see any spaceships, you know. You still haven't told me why you wanted to work on the X-Files? What was so important that you made a deal with the devil to spy on me?"
"It's hard to think clearly with a gun pointed at my chest," Diana said.
Scully looked abashed but she didn't put the gun down.
"First of all, it wasn't like that. He wanted to use me but I didn't tell him anything that he didn't already know. I told him what he wanted to hear." Diana took a deep breath. "This was the first time he asked me to do something blatantly illegal. I knew I had to draw the line." She looked at the door. "I'm afraid they're going to come bursting through at any moment." Scully looked puzzled. "You disabled their surveillance. They're going to know you're onto them."
Scully began to laugh, then stopped herself when she looked at Diana. "This is the X-Files, Diana. This is how it works. They plant the bugs, we find them, we destroy them. There is nothing to be concerned about. This happens all of the time."
Huh. "Nevertheless, I am putting you in danger by staying here. You need to let me go."
"I don't think so." Scully shook her head, then re-holstered her gun. Thank God. Diana let her arms drop back down to her sides. Scully didn't take her eyes off her, however.
"Why did you want this job so badly? You'd nearly died, working an X-File case."
Diana stood a little straighter and held her chin up. "I wanted to find the shooter. I wanted to find the person who took away three months of my life and left me disfigured." She took a deep breath and released it. "And I wanted to find Gibson Praise. After all, it was my fault he was kidnapped. It happened on my watch."
"Don't be absurd." Scully's tone was matter-of-fact. "That was supposed to be a safe house. Whoever took Gibson killed a federal marshal to get to him. They tried to kill you, too." Her face softened a little. "Three months. You'll never get them back. Those bastards won't stop hunting you if you leave now. That will become your whole life. Is that what you want?"
"What choice do I have?" She was going to lose everything. The enormity of it hit her and she reached out to steady herself on the door frame.
Scully looked thoughtful. "I think you should come back with me to Washington. I think you should do just as you were told and destroy that file. We'll have to rely on your memory of the contents until Skinner can get it duplicated. But it won't slow us down much at all." She put on her coat, then put the safety back on her weapon.
"Us?" Diana raised her eyebrows. "And what about the case we were working on here?"
"I don't think it's an X-File. Local law enforcement can handle things from here. I love it when I get to say that." She handed Diana her coat. "What's more, I think this new case is going to lead us to Mulder." Agent Scully, I don't think there is any evidence to support that, Diana thought almost fondly.
"You still don't trust me," Diana was quick to point out.
"No, I don't. I think there are things you haven't told me."
"But—"
Scully held up her hand. "Don't bother. This thing is big, bigger even than Mulder suspected. I have a plan. If you're willing to do it, we can use your relationship with that man. You'll have to be a true double agent: feed misinformation to the other side, conceal the extent of what we know, try to get as much information from him as you can."
"I get the concept of a double agent," Diana said dryly. "I think I can do that, at least for the short term."
"You'll need to decide what side you're on," Scully warned, picking up her suitcase. She opened the door, then stood aside, waiting for Diana.
Diana smiled inwardly. She always knew what side she was on. "I can do that, too." She had her overnight bag in hand. "The next thing you're going to say is that it could get dangerous." This was getting a little sentimental for her taste.
"I think you're already aware of that. No, I was just thinking how well this went. I didn't even have to shoot you," Scully said lightly. She punched the elevator button several times.
Just when she thought she had this woman pegged. "You weren't going to shoot me." Diana protested mildly.
"You don't think I'm capable? I shot Mulder, you know." She smiled as she said it, like was a fond memory. So much for sentiment.
"You didn't."
The elevator door opened. Both women got in. Scully hit the button for the ground floor. "I did. I might do it again when we find him."
Diana considered that. "It's always good to know what you want from a relationship." This is the X-Files, Diana. This is how it works.
The elevator door closed.
The end