Subject: NEW: Priorities (1 of 1)
Date: Saturday, July 10, 1999

Title: Priorities
Summary: A father is faced with two conflicting events and is
forced to decide his priorities, for right or wrong. A different
look at the Mulder household.
Category: V Mytharc
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Come, check my house. I also
don't make any money doing this. Again, come, check my house.
No infringement intended.
Archive: yes
Finished: June 24, 1999
Author's notes at the end.

Priorities
by Vickie Moseley
vmoseley@fgi.net

October 13, 1973
Chilmark, MA
6:55 am

He braced himself against the sink and pulled the razor up under his
chin, muttering a mild curse. Damn it, he'd nicked himself again.
His face was taking on the look of a spotted leopard, little dots of
toilet paper white and blood red decorating the areas no longer
covered with smooth shaving cream.

Why was he even bothering to argue with himself over it? There
was nothing to be done. It had not been his decision, for that
matter, it wasn't anyone's decision. It had just come. Placed
before them, a perfect opportunity. How could they pass it up?

They couldn't. He knew that. The Project took no look at the
calendar, took no consideration of time or dates. Dates were
arbitrary, fictional. Human. All too human. A luxury they could
not afford, the men he'd come to call friends.

But understanding the situation and explaining it to his family, that
was a totally different matter. He pulled the razor once more
across his skin, hoping that this time the blade might dig in deep
enough to solve all his problems.

"Daddy, are you gonna be in there much longer?"

Her voice, like a crystal bell, broke him out of his morose thoughts.
"No, Princess. Daddy's almost done. Is Fox awake?"

"Yup," came the giggled reply.

Bill Mulder rolled his eyes at his reflection in the mirror and wiped
the remnants of shaving cream off his face. He turned and opened
the door to the bathroom, revealing his daughter, eight year old
Samantha, standing in the hallway with a mischievous expression on
her cherub face.

"Sam," Bill tried to find his 'scolding voice'. "What did you do?"

Sam giggled again. "Oh, Daddy. You'll be so proud of me," she
tittered and put her tiny hand to her mouth. "Remember when you
told Fox and me about when you were in college?"

A roar from the upstairs bedroom erupted to drowned out any other
conversation.

"Sam, you little brat! What did you put in my shoes!"

Sam broke out into peals of laughter and Bill had to bite the inside
of his mouth to keep his own chuckle firmly in place. He covered
well by molding his face into dour stone.

"Samantha Ann Mulder, what did you do to your brother?"

At that moment, twelve year old Fox bounded down the stairs,
murder in his eyes. Samantha recognized the danger and jumped to
safety, directly behind her father's legs, with her arms wrapped
firmly around Bill's waist. "Don't let him get me, Daddy," she
begged and then let a few more giggles escape.

"Dad, you can't protect her! I get to rip her arms off for this one!
Let me at her!" Fox stormed, holding his sneakers in one hand and
his other hand clenched into a fist raised above his head.

Bill drew in a deep breath and put out his own hand, flat against his
son's chest. "What did she do?" he asked calmly.

"What did she do? What did she _do_? She put jello in my
sneakers, Dad. My good basketball sneakers! She knows there's
try-outs for the seventh grade team after school and she put jello in
my sneakers! I get to kill her, don't I, Dad? I mean, it's only fair.
Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, sister for sneakers!"

"You will do no such thing, Fox William Mulder. Now put that fist
down right this minute. Let me handle this," Bill said sternly. For a
split second, Fox looked like he wasn't ready to let anyone else
handle anything. But then, slowly, he lowered his fist, deciding
instead to lean against the hallway wall and glare at his little sister.

Bill turned to Samantha, who was still hugging his waist. "Young
lady. Did you put jello in your brother's sneakers?" Bill asked in
his 'father's voice'.

Samantha swallowed and nodded. "But Daddy, it was just like . . ."

Bill cut her off with a raised hand. "I don't care what it was just
like, that was wrong. Very wrong. And you know better.
Samantha, I'm very disappointed in you. That's just plain cruel, to
treat your brother that way."

Chewing on her lip, Samantha's face fell. Tears started to form in
her eyes. "But Daddy, I thought . . . I mean, I heard Mama say . . .
and today is . . ." She stopped herself, realizing the mess she was
in. Bill continued to stare down at her.

"What do you say to Fox?" Bill demanded

Another swallow, this time with a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Fox. I
didn't mean to ruin your only pair of sneakers. I'll never do it
again." All this said to the carpet runner on the hallway floor, and
not to her brother.

"Yeah, well, that's great, Butt-Munch, but what do I do about
try-outs?" Fox growled from his position against the wall.

Bill heard Teena come up behind them and spun to find his wife
with her hands behind her back. "I guess you'll just have to make
do with these," she said quietly, and handed Fox a large shoe box.

Bill watched Fox as his eyes widened. His jaw went slack and Bill
had to struggle to keep from laughing at the expression on his face.
Slowly, Fox reached for the box, swallowing several times before
he actually made contact. He took the box into his hands like it
was a precious treasure. He carefully lifted the lid and threw his
head back, eyes closed and howled.

"Oh YEAH! Converse All*Stars! Mom, Dad, just what I wanted!
Oh gawd, and look, their hightops and black, just like Pete
Marevich! I, . . . they, . . . they are cool! They're beyond cool!
They're _super cool_!"

Samantha broke out in a stunning grin. "I helped pick 'em out,"
she announced, proudly.

Fox hitched his shoulders, the tension of the last few minutes
seeping out of him. Bill allowed himself the smile he had been
trying to keep a lid on.

"Thanks, Butt-Munch," Fox said, pulling lightly on one of his
sister's braids.

"Happy Birthday, son," Bill said, ruffling the dark hair on the boy's
head. "Hey, looks like we need a trip to the barber soon," he noted
appraisingly.

"Ah, Dad. Everybody wears it long, now." Fox scuffed his socked
toe on the wood floor. "Hey," he said, looking up at Bill and then
to his mother. "Can I wear these today? To school?"

"No, I thought we'd make you keep them in the box until you
outgrew them," Teena said dryly, then wrapped up the tea towel
she had slung over her shoulder and snapped it close to the seat of
her son's Levi's.

Bill laughed at that one and took his wife in a quick hug. He
addressed the children over her shoulder. "Go on, finished getting
dressed. I have to do the same. If you two hurry, I'll drop you
off. You won't have to wait for the bus this morning." They
scurried off with a whoop and a holler.

Teena followed him into the bedroom and watched him pull out a
white button down shirt and put it on. "So, what did you decide?"

Bill closed his eyes, which made tying his tie a little more difficult.
After a moment, he was forced to open them again. "I don't have a
choice, Sweetheart. You know that."

Teena had perched herself on the edge of their unmade bed. She
was pouting, and wasn't trying to hide it. "I know no such thing,"
she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Teena," he sighed. "I didn't plan this. It was unavoidable. If I
could get out of it, you know I would."

"Oh, do I? First it was our anniversary, and I guess I could
understand that. And then it was Sam's recital, but she had
practiced that piece so many times, I was sick of it, too. But this,
Bill, it's his _birthday_. Your only son's birthday! He's twelve
years old today. How can you stay away tonight? It's . . . it's just
plain . . . it's cruel, that's what it is?"

Bill winced at her words, the same words he'd just used on
Samantha. But she was right, his wife was right. Missing his son's
birthday celebration would be cruel. How many more might they
have?

Teena was still speaking. "Well, I'm not going to be the one to tell
him. That's your department. I told Sam and that was more than
enough for me. This time, you get to see the look on his face. You
get to be the one to break his heart," she said evenly, with her chin
held just a fraction higher than normal.

Never marry money, Bill sighed to himself. "Teena," he started,
but she wasn't listening. For that matter, he didn't have it in his
heart to keep up his side of the argument.

"And just the other day I heard you talking to him about
'priorities'. Well, that's a laugh. Maybe you had better sit down
sometime soon and figure out _your_ priorities, William Mulder.
While you still have some left to consider!"

Bill stood there, stunned. Teena flashed him a willful look and
stormed out of the room, almost running into Fox who was
standing in the doorway.

Fox watched his mother until she rounded the corner toward the
kitchen, then turned his hesitant gaze on his father.

"What is it, Fox?" Bill bit out, and immediately regretted his gruff
tone. Why not just pour the salt in the wound, he chided himself.
But he realized he hadn't wounded the boy, yet. He still had that
chore ahead of him.

Fox had flinched at his father's tone and set his eyes on his parent's
bedroom floor. "I, . . . um, I, . . . I just wanted to say . . . I just
wanted to thank you for the neat shoes, Dad," Fox stammered and
then ran all the words out quickly as if he might forget some of
them.

Bill gritted his teeth against the pain in his chest and nodded.
"That's all right, boy. You deserve them," he said, noting for the
first time the lump in his throat.

"Yeah, well, They're really cool, but I told you that already. The
other guys are gonna be green, absolutely green when they see 'em.
So, uh, thanks, Dad. Thanks, a lot." Fox stopped speaking, but
couldn't stop nodding. Then, suddenly, he was in his father's arms,
all elbows and legs and scrawny neck. "Thanks, Dad," he
whispered.

Bill bit down hard on his cheek, but it didn't stop the tears from
filling his eyes. "It's all right, Fox. I was happy to do it. Don't
forget to thank your mother. She came up with the idea, you
know."

Fox pulled back, slightly embarrassed by his display of affection.
"Yeah, well, I know she always clears all that stuff with you, so you
were in on it. But you didn't know about Sam and the jello, did
you?" he asked suspiciously.

Bill allowed himself the release of a good belly laugh. "No, I'm
afraid that was all Samantha's idea."

Fox grinned back. "Wish I'd thought of it," he said. "I'm gonna
grab a bowl of wheaties. I'll be ready to leave when you are."

Bill stood frozen in his spot. He heard his son's footsteps recede.
He drew in a cleansing breath and called out. "Fox."

The boy stuck his head in the doorway again. "Yeah, Dad?"

"Fox," Bill said, licking his lips. "Fox, do they allow parents to
watch try-outs?"

A smile threatened to sprout on his son's face. "Uh, I guess so. I
mean, the coach didn't say anything about _not_ letting people
watch. I know some of the girls like to hang out, but . . . well,
sure, I guess parents can come," he said abruptly, before he
revealed some things better left unsaid.

"What time?" Bill asked.

"Right after school. Three-fifteen. In the Middle School gym."

"The one on Sixth Street, right?" Bill supplied.

"Yeah, that one," Fox replied. "Are you . . . do you think you
might be able to come?"

Bill nodded. "Yeah. I think I can. And then I can drive you home
and we can take the 'women' out to dinner. Make today a real
celebration."

The boy's face was pure joy to behold. "Cool," he said succinctly
and left the room nodding slowly to himself. "Cool," Bill heard him
repeat a few more times down the hall.

Bill turned back to the mirror and finished tying his tie. "Take that
for priorities, Teena," he said with a wink to his reflection.

It was one meeting, what could he possibly miss?

the end

I finally sat down to watch Two Fathers/One Son again (first time
since the original airing) and I discovered something I'd missed. At
the end of TF, when CGB is talking to Fowl-one about the
'conspiracy' and the 'first' meeting with the aliens to make the deal,
all the syndicate met in the El Rico hanger. Everyone was there,
except Bill Mulder. He was missing. And then, I noticed the date
stamp in the corner. October 13, 1973. And it all clicked. He
blew off the meeting to be home with Fox on his birthday. I know
this story does not jive with the 'Bill the Abuser' theories, but I've
always seen him and Teena as people caught in a trap. It was a trap
they didn't even see closing. What might have happened if he'd
gone to that meeting? Could he have talked some sense into the
other syndicate members, could he have realized that they were
dealing with an evil they couldn't hoodwink without paying a price?
That's for somebody else to write :)

Thanks for reading.

Vickie

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"That movie warped my fragile
little mind!"

Cartman, 'The South Park Movie'

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