Title: My December.

Author:TRUTHWEBOTHKNOW dragonrider1@ntlworld.com

Rating:PG version.

Category: MT MSR M/S/SK friendship Angst-o-rama &

Christmas fic

Disclaimer: Season of goodwill and all that. I’m

just borrowing them from CC and Fox who own them.

Il send them home full of eggnog, a bag of prezzies

and full tummies. No profit Bah humbug. ;))))

Summery: Sometime after 2am, Scully succumbed to her

exhaustion, watched over by the concerned brown eyes

of Walter Skinner as he sat vigil beside his two

agents. Holding the hand of one as she slept,

tucked up beside Mulder on the bed, and gently

bathing the fever from the other’s face, with cool

water. They looked like a couple of kids, instead

of two FBI agents. He glanced at his watch and

pulled his lips into a tight sad smile, as he went

back to the task of bathing his injured agent.

Merry Christmas, Fox and Dana.

My December lyrics by LINKIN PARK

beta By Vickie Moseley and Susan Proto, warm fuzzy

Christmas greetings and thanks girls. The chocolate

cyber Mulders are in the post!!

Special engagement for IMTP VS10, Holiday special

Distribution: Exclusive for two weeks at IMTP VS 10

then anywhere at all. (My Evil muse NC17 also

available later)

Feedback or snowballs to above email.

My December

This is my December,

This is my snow covered home……

These are my snow-covered trees.

“How is he doing, Scully?”

“I need to keep him warm. He’s like an ice block….

Sir. Blankets”her voice was kinder this time, her

eyes never leaving her patient. Her fingers were

making short work of the hapless agent’s sopping

clothes. Galvanized into action, Skinner rifled the

closets for blankets or sheets, vaguely aware that he

might have bumped his own head. He wasn’t usually

this slow on the uptake. From rolling the car onto

its roof and sliding down the bank, to locating

Mulder and kicking in the door here, everything had

happened so fast. All thoughts of any injuries they

might have had on this god-forsaken night paled when

they realized that Mulder, like Elvis had left the

building, well in this case the wreck of their car.

The sight of the fresh air windshield, the blood

splatters on the dash, had them out of the car like

rats deserting a sinking ship, scouring the deep

woods below the bank.

And then they found him.

Skinner was standing and straitening his own back

while he watched her moving the stethoscope against

Mulder’s chest again, listening intently. The

younger man still heaved for breath, bound arms so

still now after so much struggling, his eyes looking

lovingly at Scully. The AD winced, his wrists looked

chaffed and raw, a testament to how powerful and

desperate his pain had made him.

Several hours alter, it was over. The worst of it

anyway.

“How is he?”

“Hanging in there. Just so glad we got it all out of

him. Just taking 5 sir, before…”

Skinner gave her a wan smile watching the shadows

from the fire and candle light dance over her face.

They both felt good Mulder was calm again but he

balked at the thought that the poor guy still needed

stitching up and any rest he was having was going to

be short-lived, until Scully finished. Hell, they all

needed a break before the inevitable second stage of

purgatory began again. He wasn’t sure he could take

much more , let alone the nightmare Mulder was

going through. A lesser man would have crumbled but

Mulder had held himself admirably, facing down all

the trauma, only haring out completely when his

considerable pain threshold finally disintegrated. He

had to admit he had a new found respect , seeing such

fortitude in his agent , but at the same time , it

left him feeling that Mulder was spookier than ever.

All his own years in the hell of Vietnam, he’d never

see any one so strong in the face of pain, Mulder had

more courage than he previously given him credit for

and that had always been considerable.

“Erratic heart beat still but that’s to be expected.

His lungs are okay but a little wet sounding. I need

to sort out his leg and bind his ribs. He should feel

much more comfortable then, until we can get him to a

hospital.”Her free handing continuously stroking

Mulder’s hair while she took his vitals. “There’s a

lot of damage to flesh and some broken ribs. Nothing

major compromised, thank god, but infection and

pneumonia is something we have to be vigilant about.

I’m going to need some more pillows or blankets to

pro him up with. I have to watch him closely.”

“I can watch him if you want to sleep tonight. You’re

hurt yourself, Dana and your dead on your feet. I can

always…”

“No, she cut him off, eyes flashing protectively in

Mulder’s direction. ” With due respect, Walter, he

needs my trained medical eye, if he deteriorates in

the night with shock or infection then its best I

spot it as quickly as I can. I’ll crash later but

right now…”her eyes fell lovingly on her patient’s

sleepy face. “I’m not going to be able to sleep with

him like this anyway. I could use a coffee though.

Please tell me you found some something out there.”

Her eyes glittered hopefully despite her tired pale

face.

“I found something, if you can call it coffee.

There’s some tinned food, some of it well…odd. But

I’ll see if I can come up with something. Necessity

is the mother of invention. I thought I saw some

camping equipment in one of the kitchen closets.

Might be able to boil up some water on a stove or

something. Failing that, the fireplace has a hook

where I can hang the kettle. I should have done it

before but there was too much going on with Mulder.

I’m going to get that started and then get some air”

“I’ll love you forever if you bring me coffee sir,

…I mean, Walter. I’m going to need warm water to

bathe him with ..and some ice or something for his

head…and mine.”

“Hey , she’s spoken for…” Mulder’s voice, strained

and wheezy from screaming, startled them both. He’d

appeared to be asleep. Both Skinner and

Scully stifled a laugh, Scully gently ruffling

Mulder’s hair.

“Better believe it Mister, she whispered to only to

him and smiled at his sleepy eyes, before turning to

her boss “Take a break, Walter, I think you’ve

earned it. Beyond the call of duty and all that,

Mulder and I will okay alone for a few minutes.”

“I’ll be back shortly with the water….er I was

going to hike back to the car,, see If I could

salvage anything else useful or try and flag down

someone who can get us help or back to civilization.

The storms worse though. Il go first light, it will

be easier and safer. Don’t expect anyone will be fool

enough to be driving out tonight, but in the morning

I might find other cabins with phones or power. I

suspect now a search will have got underway, but hell

its Christmas, and they’ll be less manpower looking.

I think most people will be at home with their

families.”Scully nodded, a sad wistful expression on

her face. At least Mulder was alive, probably the

best present she could have hoped for under the

circumstances. They had each other.

“I’m just grateful; for this cabin, if this hadn’t

been so close by…?” Skinner nodded, sucking in a

tired breath.

” I think this was a our Christmas gift, Scully. A

place of shelter and safety, even if it is lacking in

more modern conveniences. ”

“A true miracle sir, our lives and this place. Just

here when we needed it the most. The fire and the

candles, its not home, but it is Christmassy. Really

pretty, Walter. Thank you. If Mulder wasn’t…if he

…hadn’t…” Several lumps got caught in her throat

and Scully prayed she wouldn’t embarrass herself. The

days events were catching up with her , adrenalin

fading fast and all the unshed tears threatened to

run down her face like an avalanche of fear , relief

and stress of the close call they had all just come

through.

Mulder wasn’t out of the woods yet and that terrified

her more than anything. She sent up a silent prayer

of thanks for her strength that had seen her through

these last desperate hours, for Mulder to be out of

pain and her faith that they could all be at home

very soon with their families, choking back the

silent sob that formed over her heart with the

unbidden image of her mother’s worried face that her

only surviving daughter and partner again were

missing when they should have been celebrating the

joy of Christmas, instead ruining the occasion with

worry and dread for that knock on the door. “…This

would have been perfect” she barely whispered.

“Il get that coffee. Holler if you need me, Dana.”

Scully sniffed, and forced a smile.

“..Yeah.” Skinner locked eyes with her for a second

or two longer that he intended. Wanting to tell her

that she and Mulder felt like the only family he’d

had in a while now. His jaw muscle twitched under the

urge to impart that to her, but part of him thought

better of it. He left them to their privacy.

Scully rechecked his dressing and the open wound

underneath, then scooted up the bed, taking care not

to jolt him. Mulder felt her hair tickle his face.

One warm arm slid ever so carefully around and under

his back so his head rested against her shoulder

while her other hand worked at the knots binding his

wrists. He leaned into her as she undid them one at a

time, releasing them with great tenderness, pressing

warm lips to the poor tortured skin on each with

barest pressure in a gesture that shouted, “I’m

sorry.” Pain still held him in a vice like grip but

it seems less now. He was sweat drenched and

frightened, his chest tight and throbbing but the

depth of love in Scully eyes as she looked at him,

made up for all that.

“Hey, G -man, you with me, you okay?” Lips against

his forehead, warm breath and a feeling of her

pushing his hair back. “Your poor head, we’ll get

some ice on that. ”

“Yeah.” A faint smile on the corner of his lips. A

pale shadow of his usual goofy morning grin.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry I had to put you

through that. ” Any more stroking and he’d purr like

a cat, despite the agony.

“S’alright, Scully. Had to be done. …. Was I a

complete asshole?”

“You don’t remember any of that, do you?”

“Thankfully not much, although…Scully, did I puke

on Skinner? Please tell me I didn’t…It’s vague.

I…”

“I think you owe him a new pair of loafers and suit

pants. Don’t worry; I guess he’ll think of a good

penance. ” She couldn’t quite hide the amusement in

her voice as her lips brushed his temple again. “And

you asked me to shoot you once or twice.” Mulder

closed his eyes in a painful grimace, knowing he’d

put her through hell. Again. When was she going to

get a break with him? When he looked in her eyes

again, he could see the unshed tears that refused to

fall and felt like seven kinds of heel.

“…And you’re hurt ,Scully. Are you okay? ” His

fingers shakily reached out for hers, they met,

joined and entwined.

“I’m fine Mulder.” Her eyes softened as at the crease

of worry on his face, she kissed his shoulder and put

her forehead to his. “Really. I’m tired, but I’m

okay. You came off worse than all of us put

together….” Mulder’s heartbeat began to thump

unhappily at something in her hesitation to go on.

She was playing with the hair at the nape of his

neck. Nervous breathe in his ear. Suddenly he felt

his brain catch up.

NO.

“You’re not finished? …. Scully…..”

“No, No I’m not , sweetheart. Here’s the deal….”

She felt a tightening in her stomach as she watched

the fresh anxiety pass like dull clouds over his

eyes. Her arms tightened as if trying to soften the

blow he knew was coming. He wanted nothing more at

his point to disappear into her skin and never

venture out again, heart pounding so fast , it made

him lightheaded and sick. Despite the warmth of her

body so close to him, ice ran riot in his veins.

“Mulder, honey, I’m sorry. I know you’re hurting, but

I’m going need to bathe you and clean you up a

little, then I need to do a bit of needlecraft on

that wound. Walter should be back with warm water

shortly then I can start. Just rest up a little , I’m

so sorry, we all needed to catch our breath. God this

is so hard…”

Mulder felt the first warm tears fall on his bare

shoulder. She startled when she found his fingers

worrying her cheeks, trying to catch them before they

fell. Several more streamed down her face at the

unconditional forgiveness in his eyes., the tiny

smile of affection that meant more to her than

anything right now. She was going to have to cause

him pain again, and he was giving her permission in

that gentle beautiful face. She couldn’t have loved

him more at that moment.

“You untied my arms, I…I ”

“I can’t see…that again, Mulder. See you like

that…I know…I know you shouldn’t be unconscious,

god knows this goes against all I was trained for,

all of this…But I… since you were passing in and

out while I was removing the wire, I guess… it’s a

moot point. If you feel you can’t…then you can let

go. Do what you need to get through this, even if it

means you pass out.” She couldn’t finish.

His fingers stroked hers, brought them slowly to his

lips and kissed them. “Shhh , its okay. Il be fine.

Just hope your needlework’s better than your

cooking. “He caught her eyes with a hint of a smile.

He felt exhausted, nauseous and not ready face this

again, he shuddered at the thought of more pain, but

he could see what this was doing to her. She sniffed

back her tears and wiped her eyes.

“I’ll remember that while I’m tiptoeing across your

pectorals. Besides, you said you liked my cooking.”

Fever filled eyes beamed at her, then closed. He

wasn’t going to stay the course. Not this time. She

squeezed his hand. “I’ll be as quick as I can and

very, very gentle okay?” he nodded almost

imperceptibly into the warm haven of her shoulder. If

they got out of this, he’d make Christmas up to her

and make it one to remember.

“Love you Scully.”He was crying in earnest now.

“Love you too, so much…I’m sorry. Make it up to you

soon G-man.”She kissed both eyes and rubbed his

cheek.

He nodded, eyes closed, mentally calling on all his

strength to stop himself flying apart. Walter soon

returned with ice and warm water. Mulder finally let

oblivion take him just as his tortured brain cells

registered the smell of coffee. He never even stirred

by the time Scully put the first needle through his

devastated flesh and lay deathly pale and still, 200

or so inner and outer stitches later. They couldn’t

wake him. They didn’t have the heart, to try. They

let him be and felt some kind of comfort at least

that he wasn’t awake for this. The rattle increasing

in his lungs was frightening confirmation that he had

contracted pneumonia, his struggles for breath and

fever burning brightly hours later, turning his skin

to a furnace. Her fear for his life increased ten

fold.

Scully cried again as she worked while Skinner kept

her supplied with coffee and much needed moral

support. A joke when things got too hard to see what

she was doing in front of her, to bring her back, a

comforting warm hand to let her know that she wasn’t

in this alone. In the space of a tragic few short

hours her boss had been replaced but a welcome but

unexpected friend. She thanked god again for the

100th time that night.

Somehow Scully held herself up long enough to bathe

Mulder, stitch and strap up both ribs and ankle.

Mulder stirred in fever dreams, soft flickers from

the fire giving him a child like, peaceful look, so

different from one convulsed in such pain earlier.

And sometime after 2am, Scully succumbed to her

exhaustion, watched over by the concerned brown eyes

of Walter Skinner as he sat vigil beside his two

agents. Holding the hand of one as she slept, tucked

up beside Mulder on the bed, and gently bathing the

fever from the other’s face, with cool water. They

looked like a couple of kids, instead of two FBI

agents. He glanced at his watch and pulled his lips

into a tight sad smile, as he went back to the

task of bathing his injured agent.

Merry Christmas, Fox and Dana.

Eventually the cabin in the mountains fell as silent

as the snow falling outside, except for the crack

popping of the waning fire and the occasional murmurs

of pain from Mulder as he fought demons in his

troubled sleep. None of them saw the door slowly

open, the multi-colored lights that bounced off the

cabin windows and the light flurries of blizzard

flakes swirling through to the living room and around

the night visitor as he made his entrance from the

wintry night, patting the snow from clothes and

beard, the thud of his boots as he stamped off the

snow.

Oh My, he chuckled to himself gruffly, peeping round

the door to the bedroom. Eyes twinkling like candle

flickers.

The old man sucked on his beloved pipe , savoring

the rich aroma as he took in his unexpected guests. A

bald man with glasses, kind of authoritarian,

looking, stocky. A petite red headed beauty, who on

closer inspection had her arm possessively around the

waist of the younger, dark haired man in the bed

covered only by blankets. He looked like a boy , eyes

closed tight against unknown pain, dark lashes

forming crescent smudges under his eyes.

Tsk tsk tsk, the sound almost silent, muffled by his

substantial beard. Oh dear.

As he got closer still, he peered right down into his

face, noting the sweat soaked hair, feeling heat,

distress, watching intently as soft moans spilled

from his lips. The sweat that poured down his face

and gave his chest a glowing sheen in the dying

candlelight, spoke of acute sickness. His chest rose

and fell in erratic, painful looking spasms and he

could see his pulse jumping in his pale neck like it

wanted to escape. There was something in the air

tonight beside the smell of candle wax, the ever-

pleasing aroma of burning logs. He sniffed the air,

Blood tainted through all the other smells and his

eyes fell back to the young man, sorrow in his gaze.

Then his eyes fell on the dressings and various blood

stained blankets at his feet and around the bed. The

man’s huge girth swelled with empathy.

Poor handsome Laddie, you’ve had a rough night

haven’t you.

He slowly put a finger out to touch him, and then

withdrew as if burned. He was close enough to hear

the frantic beat of his heart. Pursing his lips, he

closed his eyes for a second, listening to the sounds

of life now filling the cabin, this room, before

shaking his head. Slowly and silently he closed the

door leaving them all to their sleep. It had been a

long night.

An old man sat by the fire in his favorite chair,

smoking a pipe and rocking gently while the blizzard

outside raged against the Blue Mountains, thinking it

was good to be home. But he was deeply troubled; his

thoughts returning time after time to the sick man

who burned in fitful sleep in his bed tonight. So

long since anyone had come to call, so long since

anyone had really needed him. Not his family, he had

trouble picturing them now. Not The Great Malls of

America, too old they’d said, too eccentric. Too

generous and not enough profit. They’d let him go

with a kindly but insincere handshake, after all

those years of faithful service. It was his joy to

give, much better than receiving and he was so

lonely. This was the worse time of year to be alone,

even for him. He’d come home to lick his wounds.

He missed the children, their laughter, their joy &

honesty, their ability to see magic in every living

thing, uncomplicated by the doubts and skepticism

that the passage of time brought to their hearts too

soon. They’d made him soar and gave him a chance to

fly. He was old, old and obsolete like many of his

predecessors before him. The children believed in him

once too, that made him picture the face of the young

man, the face of a believer, of magical things. The

others and the tell tale signs of exhaustion and

struggle etched in their faces, the real powerful

magic that was the love that bound the trio together,

that made them fight for his life. To give their all

for the one who had fallen.

The old man scratched his craggy white beard. That

young man in his room needed him. It hit him like the

light from the brightest star in the galaxy. He had

so few gifts left before….

But this, this he could give, some how he just knew

that this was right. For the first time in many years

he let the warmth from the fire seep into his tired

old bones as he rose from his favorite old chair, his

only friend for a long time. With renewed purpose he

moved silently back to the bedroom, the lines and

crinkles of too many unkind years melting from his

face like snow flakes, his eyes shone and cheeks

glowed beneath his mane of white beard for the first

time in as long as he could remember.

No worthier souls than these.

Something cool and wet eased across the fire of his

forehead, rousing him finally from his fevered

dreams. He opened his eyes, expecting to find

Scully’s loving hands bathing him with ice water but

the ones he was seeing were rough and calloused. He

and delirium were old buddies and deep down he

knew he had to be it its grip, but never before had

he woken like this to find Scully at least 300 pounds

overweight and sporting a craggy white beard and

nose hair. His mouth opened in hazy wonder and

somewhere along the way he thought he’d pass out

again. He squinted in the flickering flame light, a

grin slowly spreading until it blew up a riot in his

eyes.

“Aren’t you Kenny Rodgers?” Mulder’s midnight

Samaritan grinned wickedly and put a finger to his

lips.

“Shhhhhhhh …” .

“Who are you?” Kenny, or whoever he was, now seemed

to be bathed in his own multi colored light source

that spread to envelop Mulder with tiny warm

pinpricks all over his body that seemed to reach

right inside him, easing the pain, the fire of

infection, the thunder in his head.

“Do you believe, son.? I feel it strong inside you.

Don’t ever let that go.”

“I…I…want to…” he was too hypnotized by the

sights and sensations that held him in a some kind of

suspension and were physically healing him from the

inside out, to form any kind of coherent sentence. It

was the most amazing feeling he could ever remember.

Like love, like pure energy, so intense he wanted to

laugh and cry at the same time. He nodded finally;

feeling dizzy as this light entity surrounded and

engulfed him, bathed him in some kind of microcosm of

pure peace and contentment. The last thing that

registered before his heavy eyelids closed was a

soothing voice full of joyful laughter. “Believe…”

“…When you were seven, Fox Mulder… that was an

imposter…I’m the real deal.”

“What…?”

SNICK

“Get way from him, NOW”

Scully pointed her Sig at the beefy old guy hovering

over Mulder’s body. Wide eyed and voice shaky from

disturbed sleep and fright, she became the epitome

of a professional FBI agent. Skinner by her side in

an instant, following suit with his own sig. The old

guy smiled, a gentle smile on his face a thousand

years old. The bubble that held Mulder grew outwards

to envelope them both and the last thing they

remembered was the soft laughter and sound of snow

falling against the window. A far away voice echoed

all around them.

“Merry Christmas. It’s a time for miracles…choose

your dearest wish. It’s magic if you believe…”

Mulder rolled over, feeling another warm body, he

leaned into it, stretching and spooning with a

contented sigh. Strawberry shampoo reached into his

lungs as he buried his nose in her hair and breathed

her in. A smile crept over his face as he snuggled to

enjoy the contact with her skin and slid an arm over

her waist. She stirred just a little leaning back

into him and making that little noise that drove him

crazy. Mulder’s tongue made tentative little swirls

over her earlobe, delighted when she shuddered. So

content, he could stay here all day just basking in

this love so new and largely unexplored.

Tap tap tap There its was again. He wasn’t imagining

it.

One eye opened lazily at the shy knock on the door.

It opened just a crack to reveal the delightedly

grinning countenance of Margaret Scully. She was

bouncing in the doorway like an overly excited

Doberman, Bill’s baby son, Matthew bouncing along

with her on her arm, wearing a funny little Santa hat

with a glowing bobble on top, Charlie’s four year old

daughter Lauren, hiding halfway behind her legs

hugging what looked like an new dolly.

Scully, now wide awake, emerged from the warm cocoon,

otherwise known as Mulder and peered, nonchalantly

over the covers, pulled up tight to hide both

their present nakedness. She practiced, grinning like

the good catholic daughter she was, despite their

current dubious positions, not that her mother

noticed one iota in her current state of Christmassy

exuberance. Mulder got a sudden urge to poke his head

down the blanket and study his chest. He noticed

Scully looking too. A few seconds later he shrugged.

Scully glanced at him, faint smile on her lips. She

could almost hear Mulder’s considerable brain going

through its machinations, trying to equate this

scenario coupled with fragments of screeching tires,

copious blood, Mulderscreams and a laughing old man .

It tickled the parts of their consciousness that they

couldn’t quite fathom, no matter how they tried to

work it out.

“Dana, Fox, Merry Christmas. Darlings what a

wonderful surprise. I never heard you come in. I’m so

pleased you decided to come early. Come on , we’re

just about to open the presents.” She bounced a bit

more. If that was possible “So sneaky of you. Not

that I mind of course. Just so happy you decide to

share your first Christmas with us all as a family.

I’ve warned Bill, that under pain of death he will

have to behave. I’ve even invited that lovely boss of

yours, Mr. Skinner. Can’t have that lovely man lonely

at Christmas can we? Hope you don’t mind. Ooh, this

is going to be as the best Christmas ever.” The door

snicked shut and soon the sound of Christmas carols

wafted up from downstairs along with various pleasing

smells of Christmas dinner, “Aw, Scully”.

Blue eyes met hazel in joint utter stupefaction..

Mulder was grinning, not uncharacteristically like an

idiot. Scully shook her head, her smile lightening

his heart. She looked as confused as he was. He

shrugged, the movement baring his deliciously

inviting chest. She couldn’t pull her eyes away.

“Do you believe, Scully?” Scully’s finger found

itself trailing to a point on his left chest,

expecting to find…something. When she looked up all

she saw was the love he’d carried their in his hazel

depths for more years than she could remember. Her

constant. Her touchstone. How she loved him. He

leaned down and kissed her.

“What happened Mulder?” That was his Scully, logical

as ever. The bottom lip came out in an bemused pout.

“I…”

“Ummm?”

“Dunno, Scully. Guess it’s a kind magic…if you

believe.” His hazel eyes twinkled with an unknown

knowledge.

“Do you?”

“I.. believe in love and that you will be there for

me no matter what.” He kissed her tenderly. “Merry

Christmas, baby,” He broke away breathless. Watching

her fingers as they settled over his heart, stroking.

“Something…. Happened…I”

“Let’s just believe, go join the others. It’s our

first Christmas. C’mon. The thought of your, mom’s

Christmas dinner is getting me hungry.”

“Okay, …okay. Merry Christmas, Mulder. I love you.”

“Love you, Scully. I’ll make you believe that

later…after Billy’s gone home.”

“Gonna hold you to that, G -man.”

Mulder looked out the window of Margaret Scully’s

back garden. The day had been perfect as any he could

have imagined. It was about love, family; acceptance

and being together, even Billy had called a truce.

Another man slid into the refection behind him,

watching the tree lights flick on and off.

“Mulder?”

“Yes sir?”

“Why do I get the feeling…”

“I know…I know sir, its something. I…” He looked

at the stars and saw them move all of a sudden as if

they were dancing just for him.

“Sir…Walter…?”

Scully walked out to join them at the back door, her

arms sliding around both their waists. She planted a

kiss on both their cheeks.

“Yeah, Mulder?”

“Nothing I’m just …well …feels like we have been

given a wonderful gift. I,er… can’t explain.”

“Know what I think, Mulder? ”

“It’s a kind of magic.” They all said in unison.

“If you believe…”Mulder voiced drifted into the

night.

The old man took a bow. His last gift gratefully

received.

The End.

Title: Gesundheit

Author: dtg

Rating: PG

Archive: Two weeks at IMTP VS10. Others, please ask.

Summary: “Who brings a thermometer on a cross

country ski trip?”

* * *

Gesundheit

by dtg

Frost crept up the windows in crystalline patterns

that grew more elaborate every time she breathed

against the glass. Outside, the snow was already

knee-deep, with more on the way.

They were snowbound by choice. No phones. No

electricity. A pump next to the sink for water. A

bathroom that was an antique but, thankfully,

indoors. Kerosene lamps for light, and a fieldstone

fireplace that kept the immediate area warm but let

ice form on the sills. The scent of wood smoke and

pine was everywhere.

It was like waking up in a Christmas card.

Mulder had asked her what she wanted for Christmas,

and this was it. A rustic but comfortable hideaway,

as far from D.C. as they could manage in the three

days they had to work with. Nothing to do but be

together, relax and–

>>Ah-CHOOO!<<

It was a very loud sneeze, and it made her jump.

Scully turned from the window in time to see the

down comforter get kicked to the foot of the four-

poster bed. “Mulder, you’re sweating.”

He shot her a look. “No kidding.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed and felt his

cheek with the backs of her fingers, then reached up

to his forehead, frowning at what she found.

“I really know how to make the season bright, don’t

I?”

“You do seem to be glowing.”

That got her his ‘Ha Ha’ look. When she picked up

the thermometer from the bedside table, he stuck out

his lower lip in a fetching pout.

“Who brings a thermometer on a ski trip?” he

grumbled, arms crossed over his chest.

“Not me. I found this one in the cabinet in the

bathroom.” At his horrified look, she added, “I

cleaned it in alcohol, Mulder. It’s fine.”

“Scully, I didn’t bring you up here to play doctor.

At least not this way.”

“I don’t think ‘the other way’ is an option at this

point.”

He opened his mouth to protest, and she stuck the

thermometer under his tongue. “I’m not complaining,

Mulder. You happen to be my favorite patient.”

“And the only one who can still hold up his end of

the conversation.”

“Not for the next two minutes, you can’t.”

They stared at each until the time was up. He was

talking again as soon as she removed the glass tube.

“I had something a little more romantic in mind for

this weekend.”

Scully held the thermometer up to the light and

squinted at the numbers. “Mulder, everything you do

is romantic.”

He huffed at that, and the huff turned into a bout

of coughing that made his eyes water. Scully rubbed

his back until he settled back against the pillows.

“So, do I have a fever?”

“101. Not bad, but enough to make you feel like

crap. You’ve got the flu, Mulder. That’s why it hit

you so fast.”

They had started out early that morning on a planned

daylong trek through the woods. Scully’s prowess on

cross-country skis had clearly surprised him. Waking

up face first in the snow had probably surprised him

a lot more. They had just reached the top of the

first hill when Mulder swayed briefly and pitched

forward into a snowdrift before she could react.

“You should have told me you weren’t feeling well.”

He dropped his head back against the headboard with

an audible thud, then slid down to burrow under the

covers. “Just let me die in peace.”

Scully patted his back. “Don’t sulk. I’ll make us

some lunch.” A muffled groan floated up through the

covers. “Just something light. It will make you feel

better.”

He pulled the blanket back and peered up at her.

“Now *that* would be an x file.” And then he sneezed

again. Twice.

“God bless you.”

“I doubt it.”

“Tempting providence from your sickbed is pretty

risky, don’t you think?”

“I love a challenge. Got any mirrors I can break?”

She stood up. “It’s not quite the same thing.” The

teasing tone she’d intended didn’t quite come off.

Mulder’s smirk vanished. “I was kidding.”

She looked down at him for a long moment. “Yeah, I

know.” She turned her back on his puzzled frown and

headed for the kitchen.

“Scully?”

“I’ll make that soup,” she called over her shoulder

without turning around.

She lit the propane stove and pulled a battered

saucepan from the cupboard, going through the

motions of meal preparation. Her mind was elsewhere.

Why now? He’d been making jokes about religion for

as long as she’d known him. And this one had been

mild in comparison. Almost innocent. She had given

up trying to make him understand what her faith

meant to her. It was outside his experience– and

the only area where his relentless need to believe

failed them both. So why did this time feel so much

worse?

She swiped at unexpected tears. He could have been

dead this afternoon. For a terrifying instant, she’d

thought he was. What if he had been?

“Scully?”

His voice was soft, but its proximity startled her.

The soup can flew out of her hands and its contents

splattered over the countertop and the wall. Mulder

grabbed her shoulders gently.

“It’s okay. It’s me. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He

pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin so

that his too-warm body was pressed against her from

head to foot.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed.” She tried to turn

around, but he tightened his hold just enough to

stop her.

“Scully, what’s wrong?”

A few months ago, she would have put on a smile and

told him a comfortable lie. Things were different

now. She pulled away slightly, and this time he let

her turn to face him.

“We seem to have opposing blind spots, and I don’t

know what to do about that.”

He nodded as if that made perfect sense. “It was the

‘god bless you’, wasn’t it?”

She took a step back. “Do you do that on purpose?”

He almost smiled. “Do what? Know when I’ve stuck my

foot in my mouth? I do learn eventually.” He touched

her face, wiping gently at the drying tears.

That made her smile in spite of herself. He always

seemed to do that when she most wanted to smack him.

“It’s a tender subject.”

Mulder tipped her chin up and waited until she

raised her eyes to his. “I wish I could have your

faith, Scully. I know you don’t believe that.”

“Actually, I do.” She put her arms around his waist

and pulled him close. “I just wish there was

something I could do to help you get there.”

“You still don’t know, do you?” He placed his hands

on either side of her face, rubbing his thumbs

softly over her cheekbones. “You’re my religion.

You’re my faith. But if it meant I could spend

eternity with you, I think I could believe almost

anything.” He kissed her cheek softly. “I can

promise you that I’ll try.”

She turned into his touch and brushed her lips

against his warm skin, bathing her senses with him.

“I think I can live with that.”

* * *

End

This story is based on characters created by Chris Carter and Ten

Thirteen

Productions. Characters used without permission. No infringement

intended.

TITLE: Comfort and Joy

AUTHOR: Jo-Ann Lassiter

EMAIL ADDRESS: Jolassi555@cs.com

DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Two weeks exclusive on VS10.

Then post anywhere. Thanks.

RATING: PG-13

CLASSIFICATION: S, R

SUMMARY: When Mulder gets sick right before Christmas, he

tries to hide it from Scully because he doesn’t want her to stay

home with him instead of spending the holiday with her family.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: No plot. Barely a story. Pure MT.

THANKS: To Gerry for the ultra-fast beta.

December 19, 2002

FBI Headquarters

10:38 a.m.

“No, Mom. It’s no trouble.” Scully cradled the phone against one

ear while she jotted information on the yellow-lined tablet. “Got it.

We should be at your house about eight.” Her eyes met his, and

Mulder knew that not only would what they were planning involve

him in some way, it would be extremely painful. “Unless

something comes up, yes.” Her eyes returned to the pad of paper as

she said her good-byes and hung up.

“Don’t tell me,” Mulder groaned. “Bill’s flight. Your mother can’t

pick him up.”

Scully nodded. “Right.”

“So you’re picking him up?” Mulder asked, hopefully.

When she smiled that sweetly evil smile, Mulder’s spirits plunged.

“We’re picking him up,” she told him, emphasis on the “we.”

Mulder only sighed before turning back to his reports.

**

3:56 p.m.

He was running out of time. The hour was fast approaching when

they had to leave for the airport, and Mulder hadn’t come up with

any excuses good enough to get him out of seeing Billy Boy five

days ahead of schedule.

Just as he had resigned himself to a night of pure torture, the phone

rang. Mulder tried to contain his joy when Skinner asked him if

they would assist White Collar Crimes with some wire tap duty.

WCC was short-staffed due to some poor vacation planning,

compounded by an epidemic of bank fraud cases, and they were

borrowing from other departments. The X-Files division was the

last to be tapped.

Mulder accepted for himself, but told Skinner that Scully was

unavailable. “Her brother?” Skinner asked, then chuckled. “No

wonder you were so eager to accept.”

“Yes, sir,” Mulder said crisply, checking his watch. “If I leave now

I can be there in half an hour.”

Scully’s head snapped up at that. “Where are you going?” she

asked when he put the phone down.

“Gotta help out the White Collar boys.” He thought he did well in

sounding almost disappointed. “They asked for you, too, but I got

you out of it.”

“Wire tap?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Mulder, you hate wire tap duty.”

He had to bite his tongue to keep from telling her that although he

hated it with a passion, it still beat the hell out of having to spend

time with her brother. He shrugged. “They’re stuck. It’s an

important case, and they just don’t have the manpower.” He met

her eyes, beginning to feel a little guilty for bugging out on her.

“It’s just for tonight. I promise.”

“You promised you’d come Christmas shopping with me tomorrow

night,” she reminded him.

“I will.” He grabbed his coat, gave her a quick kiss and a wink,

then headed to the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Once he was safely on the other side of the door, he released a

huge sigh of relief for the reprieve from Bill’s company. If he

played his cards right, maybe he could get out of seeing him

altogether.

Mulder snorted as he took the stairs up to the lobby.

Like **that** was ever an option.

**

9:47 p.m.

Dilapidated Office Building in Seedy Section of Arlington, VA

Top Floor

Mulder adjusted the headphones and shivered. Why would any

self-respecting bank V.P. be holed up in such a dive? He shifted

his seat—for about the fiftieth time—as a few more flakes of

plaster floated down from the dangerously-sagging ceiling.

Activity next door brought him back to his job, and he checked the

recorder to make sure it was getting everything. As he listened, he

could tell that this might very well be it. The veep was about to

hang himself; he could feel the team gearing up for the arrest.

The perp sang like a bird to his girlfriend on the phone, and Mulder

quickly checked that he’d gotten it; sure enough, the tape was

rolling. With any luck, he’d be home by 10:30.

As the boys in FBI blue burst in, Mulder heard the commotion

through the wall; he sighed in relief as the man allowed the cuffs to

be placed on him with no resistance.

A knock came on his door, and Mulder stood to unlock it.

Then the roof caved in.

**

10:03 p.m.

For a moment, Mulder could do nothing but stare at the debris

blocking the door. Another second, and he would have been under

that big block of grey metal nestled in amongst the plaster and

wood and tarpaper.

Frantic pounding on the door brought him out of his reverie.

“Agent Mulder! Are you all right in there? Is the tape okay?”

Mulder opened his mouth to respond, and breathed in a lungful of

dust. Caught in a coughing fit, Mulder was unable to assure the

SAC that he—and the tape—were unharmed.

Taking his handkerchief out of his pocket, Mulder secured it over

his mouth so that he could breathe without inhaling too much of

the dust. When he got a breath, he answered, “The tape is fine.” He

glared at the culprit that had caused the collapse. “I’m stuck in

here, though. An old air-conditioning unit fell through the roof and

is blocking the door.” He coughed again as a breeze stirred up the

dried plaster and—ugh—dried bird droppings.

“Hang on a few minutes. We’ll get someone up here with an axe to

break the door open.” Footsteps raced away from the door and then

faded altogether.

Mulder shivered; he looked around for where he’d tossed his coat,

cursing as he discovered it wedged into the floor, laying half under

the six-foot square of metal. Retreating to the corner furthest from

the gaping hole in the roof, Mulder huddled in on himself, trying to

escape the cold and the dust that was swirling through the room,

whipped into a frenzy by the wind.

By the time the fire department arrived to break him out, his teeth

were chattering, and he’d inhaled about a pound of old plaster. He

was coughing and wheezing so badly that the paramedics deemed a

trip to the hospital a necessity. Since Mulder felt like shit by this

time, he didn’t think it was such a bad idea and went along

willingly.

When they reached the hospital, Mulder was feeling much better,

warmth and oxygen combining to make him feel almost human

again. Since the stakeout site had been an old building, the firemen

had checked for any sign of asbestos or any other dangerous

elements and had found nothing. The physician told Mulder that

his lungs were still congested and that he might experience

dizziness and shortness of breath for the next few days while his

system was ridding itself of the dust. He was ordered to avoid any

unnecessary exercise.

Mulder frowned. “What about walking? I’m supposed to go

Christmas shopping tomorrow night.”

The doctor shook her head. “I’d really recommend against it.” She

looked him in the eye. “Unless you don’t mind making a spectacle

of yourself and frightening yourself to death—because that’s

exactly what you’ll be doing after about fifteen minutes when you

either can’t catch your breath or begin coughing your lungs out.”

Mulder was horrified. If she had been trying to scare him into

following her orders, she’d certainly done so. “Point taken, Doctor.

Just how long do I have to wait until I’m fit enough to go out in

public?”

The doctor smiled. “You can go out in public, Agent Mulder. You

can even go to work, if you want. Just desk duty, though, for the

next couple of days.”

Mulder nodded. “All right.” Scully would either have to go

shopping without him, or wait until he was more healthy. “Thank

you.”

The doctor nodded absently, ducking around the privacy sheet and

leaving. Mulder pulled his shirt back on and stood up.

Immediately, he felt a tightness in his chest. A few seconds of

massage and several cleansing coughs served to ease up the ache.

Exiting the emergency room bay, Mulder walked slowly to the

bank of phones near the nurses’ station. Glancing at his watch, he

sighed. Ten minutes after one. So much for being home by ten

thirty.

Taking out the necessary amount of coins, he dialed his partner.

**

December 23, 2002

6:33 p.m.

Landmark Center (Mall)

Alexandria, Virginia

“Scully, I’m fine. Would you stop looking at me like I’m going to

keel over any minute?” Mulder was growing exasperated at his

partner’s hovering. On his worst day, he had never clung to her the

way she was adhered to his side. And the glances. Every ten

seconds, she would turn her head ever so slightly—just enough to

irritate the hell out of him.

“Mulder, after what happened at work…”

He stopped, detaching her from his side and moving her out to

arm’s length. “That was three days ago. And the day after I got out

of the hospital. I feel fine now. I’ve felt fine for the past two days.”

He narrowed his eyes into slits. “Okay?”

When Scully broke eye contact and looked down at her shoes,

Mulder felt bad for yelling at her. “Hey…” He hooked his index

finger under her chin, bringing her eyes back up to meet his. “I

know you’re only looking out for me, and I appreciate it. But I’m

okay now.”

She sighed, nodding. “I know, but…” She shuddered.

Mulder let out a breath of exasperation. Was she never going to get

past his taking a little tumble down the stairs on Friday after lunch?

They had been a half block from the agents’ entrance when the

skies opened up on them. Without thinking, Scully had grabbed

Mulder’s hand and pulled him along as she ran to the door. The

exertion caught up with Mulder in the stairwell; as he stepped off

the landing, his chest tightened, cutting off the flow of oxygen to

his brain. He missed the next step and landed in a rather

undignified heap at the bottom.

Once Scully realized the cause, she’d been mother-henning him to

death.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She smiled tentatively. “Can I trust you

to tell me if it’s too much?”

He crossed his thumb over his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

“Okay, then.”

She took hold of his arm, and Mulder looked at her, sighing and

rolling his eyes. Why, oh, why, must she coddle him so?

“Because I like to,” she said softly. “Got a problem with that?”

Mulder laid a hand over hers. Well, when she put it like thatÖ

“None whatsoever.”

**

December 24, 2002

4 a.m.

Mulder’s Apartment

What a difference a day made, Mulder thought, shivering under the

blankets. Even though he no longer exhibited any of the symptoms

from his little escapade, he’d caught **something.** He staggered

out of bed into the bathroom, surprised to find his legs just barely

able to hold his weight. After relieving himself, he hurried to his

dresser and pulled out the warmest set of sweats he owned, pulling

them on hastily.

Shuffling back into the bathroom, he found the bottle of Tylenol

and swallowed three. He crawled back under the covers and fell

back to sleep.

**

December 24, 2002

12:37 p.m.

FBI Headquarters Basement Office

“…with Charlie home!” Scully’s delighted voice brought him out of

the stupor he’d been in. He knew how excited she was about the

entire family being together for the first time in several years, so

he’d been trying to will himself back to health.

It wasn’t working. As the day wore on, he was feeling worse and

worse, but he was determined that Scully should enjoy her

Christmas Eve. He was not about to spoil her good time because of

some stupid flu bug that had wormed its way into his system.

“…so if you don’t mind, I’ll pick you up at 6.”

Damn. He’d spaced out again. “I’m sorry. What?”

“I said it’d be easier if I packed my car beforehand and then just

picked you up instead of your picking me up and then having to

pack your car.” She paused. “Are you okay?”

He snapped himself out of it enough to recognize the fear in her

tone—fear that some deficiency on his part would prevent her from

spending this time with her family. “Yeah,” he said, trying his

darndest to sound insulted. “That sounds like a great idea. Six is

good.” He couldn’t believe how relieved he was that he wouldn’t

have to drive.

“Sure you’re okay?” This time the concern was in her voice, and he

forced himself to perk up.

Meeting her eyes, he grimaced. “Just looking forward to an

evening with Bill.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s already been threatened.” Her eyes

twinkled. “By my mom and by his wife.” She gave him a smile.

“You’ll be fine.”

His head was starting to pound, and he wanted nothing more than

to crawl away somewhere and die.

Somehow he knew that he’d be anything but ‘fine.’

**

December 24, 2002

9:18 p.m.

Margaret Scully’s House

Living Room

“Hey, Mulder, you’ll give us a hand, right?” Bill Scully’s question

broke through the fog in which Mulder had been ensconced all

evening.

“Give you a hand with what?” He hoped that whatever it was, it

didn’t involve moving. Or thinking. Or anything that didn’t include

lying down in a warm bed, surrounded by lots of blankets.

“I’m having trouble with my car,” Bill supplied. “I thought maybe

you could take a look at it.”

Mulder looked at Bill warily. “Sorry, Bill. I’m not much of a

mechanic. You’ll probably be better off calling a garage.”

“No one’s going to come out on Christmas Eve. Can you just take a

look?” He indicated his brother, standing next to him. “Charlie and

I have already tried, but we can’t figure out what’s wrong. Maybe

you can figure it out.”

Mulder shook his head. “I really couldn’t. I—”

“Come on, Mulder. Would it kill you to take a look?”

Mulder thought that it probably would, but he knew that Bill would

persist until he capitulated, so he sighed and stood up. “Fine. Just

let me get my coat.”

“You won’t need your coat,” Bill scorned. “It’s not that cold out.

Besides, it’ll only take a couple of minutes.

“But…” Mulder didn’t relish even one minute out in the cold.

“Come on.” Bill and Charlie practically dragged him to the front

door. Mulder searched for his partner, but the room was empty.

How convenient, he thought, that no one was around to witness his

abduction by the Scully brothers.

When they reached the car, Mulder was shivering. ‘Not cold,’ his

ass. It must have been forty degrees out there! He started back for

the house. “I’m going to get my coat.”

Bill and Charlie grabbed his arm, returning him to the car. The

hood had been popped, and they brought him over to look at the

engine. Much to his surprise, Mulder knew right away what was

wrong. “Here’s the trouble,” he said. “The distributor cap is loose.

You just need to tighten it.”

When he looked up, his audience had disappeared. “Hey!” He

turned around just in time to see the front door closing. Not

bothering with the car any longer, he hurried to the door. When he

found it locked, his suspicions had been confirmed.

Bill couldn’t openly harass him, hence the sneak attack, but Mulder

was saddened by the fact that brother Charles had gone along

willingly.

After pounding on the door and ringing the doorbell with no

success, Mulder tried Scully’s cell. As it rang, he moved around to

the back of the house, toward the kitchen, finally hanging up after

realizing that she’d either left it in her purse, or it was too loud

inside for her to hear it.

After five minutes of banging on the door, he caught someone’s

attention. When Tara Scully finally opened the door, Mulder made

a beeline for his coat, digging it out from under the mound of

winter coats in the spare bedroom.

He wasn’t surprised when no one followed him. No one even

noticed he’d been gone—or that he’d come back.

Huddled into a corner of the couch, Mulder sniffled, feeling sorry

for himself. In her defense, Scully hadn’t been there when Tara let

him in, but the whole evening she hadn’t once asked him why he

was sitting alone.

“Hey, Mulder, did you enjoy the night air?”

Mulder ignored the elder Scully, putting whatever was left of his

brain to the task of getting out of spending Christmas day with

those morons.

After a few more jeers and no reaction on Mulder’s part, the

brothers Scully went off to join the rest of the family in the

kitchen.

Sitting in his corner, staring at the fire and listening to the cheery

activity in the other room, Mulder wondered whatever in the world

had made him think that this Christmas would be any different

from the last twenty or thirty.

A relationship with Scully apparently entitled him to experience

that unique brand of loneliness to which only a select few were

privy—that of being alone in a houseful of people.

What saddened him greatly, and what hurt the most deeply, was

that one of those people was Scully.

**

10:16 p.m.

“Hey, cowboy. Enough of this lone ranger impersonation.” His

partner’s light voice and playful nudge roused him to wakefulness.

“I don’t care if you do want to be alone. Tonight is not the night.”

Blinking sleepily, he gazed up at her in confusion. “What are you

talking about, Scully?”

“You. Wanting to be alone by the fire. Too much family all at

once?” She stared at him. “Ring any bells?”

“Not one,” he answered.

Her eyes narrowed, and he could read her realization and growing

annoyance. “You didn’t tell Bill and Charlie that this was all too

overwhelming and that you’d rather sit alone by the fire?”

Mulder shook his head slowly. His eyes brimmed with tears as he

looked up at her. “Is that why you…” He swallowed, afraid his

voice would break if he continued.

She leaned her forehead down to his. “Oh, Mulder. I thought I was

doing you a favor. We all did.” The anger returned. “With two

soon-to-be-very-sorry exceptions.”

Mulder opened his mouth to tell her to forget it, that he was a

better man than them, that he didn’t want Scully to ream out her

brothers. He decided, however, that he wasn’t, and he did.

They’d teased him, locked him out in the cold, then turned the rest

of the family away from him, leaving him feeling sick, miserable,

lonely and unloved.

As Scully stood up to find her brothers, he tugged at her sleeve.

“Do it in here, would you? I want to watch.”

**

10:29 p.m.

Since he felt so awful, Mulder couldn’t derive the full enjoyment of

the tongue-lashing that he should have.

As she laid into him, Bill aimed a look of disdain at Mulder, then

called Mulder a wimp, a wuss, and a variety of other less-than-

flattering names, for running to his baby sister because they’d

locked him outside.

Mulder’s face lit up, and Scully didn’t disappoint—nor did Bill—

when he realized that Mulder hadn’t spilled the beans and that he’d

just hung himself.

Brother Charles, for the most part, remained silent, even

remorseful, an emotion Mulder had yet to witness in Bill. Once

she’d wound down and planted herself next to her partner

protectively, Bill stomped out while Charles muttered a quiet

apology, which Mulder accepted.

Eventually, the family drifted into the living room, where they

tried singing a few off-key carols and told stories from Christmases

past. So even though Mulder still felt sick and miserable, he didn’t

feel alone, and with Scully by his side, he no longer felt unloved.

**

December 25, 2002

12:46 a.m.

Dana Scully’s Car

Mulder opened his eyes when the movement ceased. Looking

forward to curling up on his couch and moaning out loud whenever

the mood struck him, he was grievously dismayed to find himself

in front of Scully’s apartment building.

“WhyÖ What are we doing here?” Gazing into the smoky depths

of her eyes, Mulder was afraid he already knew the answer.

“We have to be back at Mom’s by nine tomorrow morning. I

thought you could spend the night since it’s so late and we have to

leave again so early.”

“Oh,” he said, unable to come up with a reason he should do

otherwise. “Okay.”

When they were inside, Mulder headed straight for the sofa,

uncertain how much longer he’d be able to remain on his feet

before his legs gave out.

“Do you want any coffee or tea?” Scully asked from her kitchen.

Mulder’s stomach turned at the thought. “Uh, no.” He pushed

himself to his feet. “I’m exhausted. I’m heading off to bed.” With

any luck, he’d be out cold by the time she was ready to make her

move.

In a jiffy, she was plastered to his side. “Bed. Mmm. Sounds

good.” She gave him the seductive smile that normally drove him

wild, but at this moment scared the life out of him. “Just how tired

are you, G-man?” she purred.

He tried hard not to cringe. “Very. Very tired. The most tired I’ve

been all year.”

She cupped him through his pants, and he wanted to cry. “Are you

sure there’s nothing I can do to perk you up?”

Against his will, he felt himself reacting to her touch. “I don’tÖ I

don’t know.” He sidestepped her hand. “I’m **really** tired.”

She followed him into the bedroom, allowing him to remove his

clothes. When he was down to his t-shirt and boxers, she spun him

around to face her. He gulped at her state of undress. “OrÖ” She

tugged at the waistband of his shorts. “Or someone is playing ‘hard’

to get.”

Could he do this? Could he make love to her when—and he

couldn’t really believe this—when it was the last thing he wanted

to be doing?

“Hey.” She was gazing at him with a soft smile so full of love that

he felt like a heel for considering it.

Forcing a smile onto his face, he pressed his body to hers. “You

caught me.”

“Mulder-r-rÖ” she purred. “You’re overdressed.” She whipped his

T-shirt over his head, then pulled his boxers down slowly. As soon

as he stepped out of them, she yanked him to her, molding her

body to his. They remained that way for a few seconds, and then

he heard her say, “You’re hot.”

Sucking it up, he played along. “Why thank you, Agent Scully.

You’re hot, too.”

She drew herself back to arm’s length. “No. You’re **hot.**”

When one hand assumed the classic ‘feeling for fever’ position on

his forehead, he knew that the jig was up.

He tried to laugh it off. “Only because you make me that way.” He

put on his most charming smile.

Leading him to the bed, she pushed him down gently and he tried

not to sigh in relief. “Have you been sick all night?”

“I’m not sick,” he protested half-heartedly.

One of her withering looks was enough to make him back down.

“All right. I’m a little under the weather. But I’m okay for

tomorrow. I just need a few hours sleep, and I’ll be as good as

new.” He smiled as brightly as he could, trying not to wince when

the light from the bedside lamp shined directly into his eyes.

“Lie down.” Scully pulled back the covers, and he slid in

gratefully.

The sheets were cool, and he started to shiver. “UhÖ as a further

mood-killer, can I put something on? It’s freezing in here.”

She nodded. “I’ll get you something.”

She returned with sweat pants and a sweatshirt—and her medical

bag.

“That’s not necessary,” he said, even as he tried to suppress the

cough that had been trying to break free all night.

She helped him into the clothes. “Let me be the judge of that.”

He huddled back under the covers. “Really,” he said through

chattering teeth. “I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“Uh, huh.” Taking out a thermometer, she placed it under his

tongue. After a few minutes, as he finally started to warm up under

the blankets, she removed the thin tube. “101.6. Not too bad.” She

shook out two tablets from a container.

“What’s that?” he asked, as she handed them to him.

“Tylenol. It should bring down the fever and help that headache.”

He ducked his head; he wasn’t even going to ask how she knew.

She handed him a glass of water, and he swallowed the tablets,

then drained the glass. “Hey, Scully,” he said, as a brilliant idea

came to him. “Tomorrow, you could—”

“No.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, quietly.

She kissed him softly on the lips. “I know you don’t. I know you’d

rather be here than there, even if you weren’t sick.”

“I’ll go with you tomorrow,” he said, unwilling to be the cause of

her not spending Christmas with her family. “I’m sure I’ll be better

in the morning.”

“Let’s wait and see. Okay?”

Nodding, he settled back into the pillow, closing his eyes. If he

could get his fever down, he was sure he could convince her that

he’d shaken the bug.

How much in love was he that when he’d been given the perfect

‘out’ from Christmas with the Scully brothers, he didn’t take it?

**

December 25, 2002

6:02 a.m.

Mulder closed the door to Scully’s medicine cabinet, eyeing the

three tablets in his hand. Swallowing them down with a gulp of

water, he headed back to bed. If he was going to convince Scully

that he was well, it would have to be a performance worthy of an

Oscar.

He felt much worse than the day before, and now nausea had been

added to the mix. Lying down, he thought he’d wait for Scully to

wake him, and hope that the Tylenol would work their magic.

When he felt Scully shaking him awake, he stopped himself from

groaning, and plastered a grin on his face. “What time is it?” he

asked, with forced brightness.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, instead.

He made a big show of stretching, and then he grabbed her around

the middle. “I feel good,” he lied, giving her a hug and then

releasing her. Squinting, he tried to read the numbers on the

bedside clock; they refused to come into focus. “Is it time to get

ready?”

When she didn’t answer, Mulder looked at her. She shook her

head. “We’re staying here.”

“Scully, I’m fine,” he protested. “We don’t have to—”

Two fingers placed gently over his lips silenced him. “You can

drop the act, Mulder.” When he tried to object, she shushed him. “I

love you for trying, and I might have bought the act, but it doesn’t

matter.” She indicated the window behind him with a nod of her

head. “Mother Nature gave us an ice storm last night. We’re stuck

here for the day.”

Mulder glanced at the window; the white brilliance of the new day

hurt his eyes, and he turned away. Pursing his lips, he kissed the

fingers still resting on his lips. “If we take it slow, we should be

okay. We may be a little late, but at least we’ll be there.”

Again, she shook her head. “I already talked to Mom. The roads

are treacherous. She said she’d rather know we were safe than

worry about us risking our lives to get there.”

“But your family, ScullyÖ” His heart was breaking for her. “I

know how much you wanted to be with them.” He looked down at

the floor. “If it wasn’t for me, you would have spent the night there.

You wouldn’t have had to worry about getting there.”

She placed her hands on both sides of his face, waiting until his

eyes met hers. “They are my family, and I love them.” When he

tried to look away, feeling guilty, she locked his gaze in place with

hers. “But you’re my family, too, Mulder. Why would you think I’d

rather spend Christmas with them and not you?”

He had to admit that he was surprised. He’d never even given it a

thought that she might not want to spend Christmas away from

him. Oh, he knew that she’d readily forego the time with her family

to care for her ill partner; what he didn’t consider was that given a

choice, she would choose him.

“I just thoughtÖ” How could he explain something he barely

understood himself? “They’re your family,” he said weakly.

“And you, Mulder,” she said, as if speaking to a slow-witted child,

“are my family.” She smiled. “*And* you areÖ”

He smiled in anticipation. ‘The man I love? Soulmate? Love of my

live?’

“Öan idiot.”

He blinked. It was not quite the mushy response he’d expected.

When she laid a long, slow, wet one on his lips, he blinked again.

“And I love you for it,” she said.

His head hurt too much for him to try to figure out what she was

talking about. Closing his eyes, he lay back. “I love you, too,” he

mumbled.

He sighed as she brushed her lips over his. “Go to sleep, Mulder,”

she whispered.

“Just for a few minutes,” he murmured. “Don’t want you to spend

your Christmas alone.” Forcing his eyes open, he looked at her.

“Don’t let me sleep too long.”

“Okay.”

He laid a hand on her arm. “Promise me. You’ll wake me if I’m not

up by lunch time.”

“Mulder, you need—”

“Promise me. If I feel too bad to get up, I’ll let you know.”

“Promise?” she asked.

“Uh, huh.” He crooked an eyebrow, which hurt like hell, but got

his point across: she never responded to him.

“I promise. I’ll wake you at one if you’re still asleep.”

“Good.” He yawned and closed his eyes again.

“Mulder?”

“Hmm?”

“You are.”

“Hmm?”

“The man I love. My soulmate.”

He smiled. “You forgot—”

“No, I didn’t. It was a dramatic pause. Save the best for last. That

sort of thing.”

Another smile. “So, I am?”

“Uh, huh.”

“You too, Scully. You’ve been the love of my life for a long time

now.”

Her lips pressed to his. “I know, Mulder. And though it took me a

long time to realize it, you’ve been mine, too.”

Even though he felt like crap, he never felt so good in his life.

“Merry Christmas, Scully.”

“Merry Christmas, Mulder.” Pause. “And, Mulder?”

“I choose you every time.”

He smiled.

“Even though you are an idiot.”

The End

Christmas, Mulder Style 1/3

By Mary Kleinsmith (BUC252@aol.com)

Categories/Keywords: MSR, Holiday, Christmas, Written for VS10’s Christmas challenge

Rating: PG

Summary: How did Mulder spend all those Christmases alone? He finally decides to share with Scully.

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: Scully, Mulder, and Maggie Scully – and all the Scully clan – belong to 10-13, Fox, and CC.

Author’s Notes: Okay, I know Christmas stories have been done forever, but have you ever noticed how most of them have Mulder sitting home alone on the holiday? Or not celebrating at all? Well, I had a different thought on how he might spend his day – and this is what came of it. Enjoy! Feedback: Please? Much appreciated!

Christmas, Mulder Style

By Mary Kleinsmith (BUC252@aol.com)

“I don’t get it, Mulder.” Dana Scully looked at her partner in frustration. “Every year I invite you to Christmas day at my mother’s house, and every year you turn me down. Even on the years when Bill can’t make it home, you manage to weasel out of it! I’d really love you to join my Mom and me this year – it’s going to be just the two of us.”

“Military duty is a bitch, isn’t it?” Mulder asked with a shrug.

“Yeah, especially this time of the year. We’d really like to have you there, Mulder. Please?”

“Scully, look. I’d love to join you, I really would. But I have plans. Obligations.”

Scully was puzzled. He had no family left, and she knew it as well as he did. “A TV dinner and a football marathon alone in your apartment are NOT obligations, Mulder.”

“Have I ever once told you that’s how I spend my day?” Mulder raised his brows, calling her on her statement.

“Well . . . . I mean . . . I just assumed . . .”

“You know what they say about assuming,” he winked.

“Very funny,” she chuckled, drawing closer to him. Normally, they wouldn’t show such signs of affection in the office, but she didn’t seem to care this time. “C’mon, Mulder. I want to share this with you. You’re the most important person in my life.”

“Bet you say that to all the guys,” he joked, then became serious. “Okay, how about a compromise. I’ll spend Christmas eve with you and your Mom – I’ll even take you to mass – and then all three of us will spend Christmas day meeting my obligations. Once that’s done, we’ll return to spend the rest of the holiday at Casa Scully.”

Scully looked at him with doubt in her eyes. “Why do I feel like I’m getting myself into something I won’t be able to get out of.”

“Because you are. That’s the deal, Scully. Take it, or leave it.”

He smiled, hoping she’d agree. “Look, every year, you make the assumption that my Christmas is spent alone in my apartment. This is your chance to finally see how I REALLY spend my holiday.”

It was apparent from the look on her face that the idea intrigued her. “I’d have to call Mom. . .”

“I’d expect nothing less. After all, this involves her, too.”

“Okay,” Scully agreed, picking up the receiver and dialing the phone. “But don’t make me regret this, Mulder. I have ways of wreaking my revenge.”

“Promises, promises,” Mulder chuckled as he sat down to his work.

Christmas was less than a week away, and he was really  looking forward to it this time.

**

The stores were nuts this close to Christmas, but Mulder knew that, by shopping at this time, he could get the really good deals. Yes, people shopped on Christmas eve, but not enough that the storekeepers weren’t worried that their stock wouldn’t be sold out by the holiday itself. The sales were great, and the more he could get for his dollar, the better.

He knew he wanted to get the best gifts possible for Scully and her Mom. He had ideas for Scully, but what did you get for a lovely woman like Maggie? He was hitting the stores again after work, which would give him an opportunity to find something. And to pick up Scully’s.

“So, what do you think your Mom would like for Christmas?” he asked her. Scully’s nose was buried in her computer screen, but she looked up sharply, as if taken by surprise.

“Mulder, she’s not expecting anything from you, I’m sure. All she wanted was your presence. That’s it.”

“Scully, I have no intention of spending the holiday with your mother and not having something to show my appreciation.”

“I understand that, but flowers would be more than enough, I’m sure.”

“You don’t think she’s gone long enough without a gift from a handsome man?” he asked her with a devilish grin.

“Not as long as you may think,” she smiled back at him. “She isn’t exactly a nun, you know.”

His face fell, but you didn’t have to be as familiar with him as Scully was to know he was faking it; that was his plan all along. “I think I’m jealous.”

“Nobody will ever take your place in her heart, Mulder. Mom loves all her strays.”

“Strays?” he asked

“Yeah.”

“Oh, how flattering. I love animals, Scully, but I’m not sure that I appreciate being compared to a smelly, mangy cat.” How nice to know what she thought of him.

It must have shown on his face. “I’m sorry, Mulder. It’s not at all like you’re thinking. See, Mom’s kitchen was always the place where the kids congregated. She made the best cookies, and mixed up the best lemonade. And even though the house was always full of our friends, she never hesitated to take in kids who had no place else to be. Everybody was welcome in the Scully household.”

“Somehow, I don’t get the feeling that your brother Bill inherited your Mom’s hospitality.”

“Actually, you’re the only one he seems to have a problem with.”

“I feel so privileged,” Mulder said with sarcasm. “At least we won’t have to suffer through each other this year.”

“Which brings us back to the origins of this discussion, Mulder. Where are we going?”

Mulder had turned off his computer and was retrieving his jacket.

“We’re going to the mall. I have a few parcels to pick up.”

“But it’s not even 4:30 yet. We can’t leave this early.”

“Sure we can. Besides, I need to stop and sign out a vehicle from the motor pool before they all go home.”

“What’s wrong with your car?” she asked curiously. He was torn between telling her what was going on and simply showing her, finally opting for the latter.

“Nothing. This just takes some . . . special equipment.” She was still looking at him oddly. “C’mon and I’ll show you.”

They wheedled their way through the desks and halls until they finally arrived at the counter. Mulder quickly filled out the form and was handed a set of keys and given the parking space where their transportation resided in the garage. He ignored the look on her face that said she didn’t recognize the space assignment.

It became impossible to ignore, however, as they approached the vehicle.

“Mulder . . . that’s a van.”

“I know, Scully.”

“But . . . It’s not even a mini-van – it’s a full size cargo van!”

“A good thing, too, since that’s what I put on the requisition.” At the continuing question in her face, his tone softened and grew serious. “Just trust me, okay? No questions – just go along with this. I promise, you won’t regret it.”

She silently climbed into the passenger side of the van. “Mulder, do you even have the right class of license to drive one of these?”

“You don’t have to have a special-class license anymore; they changed the law years ago.” His face brightened and he turned on the radio. “Let’s see if we can find any decent music, huh?”

“Mulder, why do I get the feeling that this . . . mood . . . of yours is forced?”

“I have no idea, Scully. Why do you have that feeling? It’s Christmas. Can’t I have a good time?”

“I believe you’re having a good time, Mulder. But it’s not like you to be this . . . to take things this lightly. Despite all the jokes and sarcasm, you’re the most serious person I know.” She looked at him with an intensity that drew him in, and he wondered if he should pull over before he crashed and killed them both.

“This is serious, Scully. I just wanted you to have fun at the same time.”

“Mulder,” she said, laying a hand on his as it sat on the steering wheel. “Sharing your holiday customs is all I could ask and all I want. You don’t have to fake giddiness for me.”

Message received, he nodded once and went back to concentrating on the road. Surprisingly enough, she didn’t ask him again where they were going or inquire further on their excursion. This time, his smile was genuine as he pulled around the block near the mall and backed up to an unmarked overhead door.

“What is this?” she asked finally.

“You’ve never seen the delivery entrances to the mall?” Mulder said, surprised. Beside the overhead door was a man door, on which he knocked soundly until it finally opened. The middle-aged man’s face lit with recognition.

“Mr. Mulder! So nice to see you again, Merry Christmas!”

“The same to you, Dennis. How’re you?”

“I’m doing well, thanks.”

“And the wife and kids?”

“Jeanine is great. The kids have had the flu, but it’s on its last legs. You can never keep a teenager down for long anyway,” he laughed. “And who do I have the pleasure of welcoming to my loading dock?” he asked, turning to Scully.

“Dennis, this is my partner, Dana Scully. Scully, this is Dennis, the best dock manager this side of the Mississippi.”

“Nice to meet you,” they said simultaneously before Dennis turned to Mulder.

“Partner?” he asked wickedly.

“At the Bureau, remember?” Mulder said, rolling his eyes.

“If you say so,” the dock man said with a grin and a wink. Keeping this a secret was becoming difficult.

“Anyway, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover tonight, tomorrow being Christmas eve and all. Think you can load me up while we do a little shopping?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Mulder. We’ll have you ready to go before you can say Jack Robinson.” Mulder began to lead Scully away, but Dennis drew his attention once more. “Oh, and Mulder. . .they’ve got some really good prices at Reed’s Jewelers.” There was that wink again before a meaningful glance at Scully.

“Thanks for the advice, but I think I’d better pick out my gifts myself. Be back in awhile.”

Coincidentally enough, Reeds was the next store after the one they entered, which Scully could finally see was KB Toys. She surprised him by not asking any more questions, and before he knew it, they were absorbed in looking into showcases.

“How about a necklace, Scully? Think your Mom would like that?”

“Sure, or a nice pin. There are so many beautiful ones here. Or we could always go to the department store and you could pick her out a nice sweater.”

“Your Mom deserves better than a sweater, Scully. So much better. After we’re done with Christmas day, I want something really great to give her.”

“Any of these things would be wonderful, Mulder,” she told him warmly, taking his hand as he continued to peer into the showcase. Suddenly, his eyes widened.

“Hey, how about that one!” he pointed out. The jeweler stood before him. “Can you have this ready by tomorrow?”

“Absolutely, Sir. Just let me get the order pad and we’ll get all the specifics.”

Their stop at the jewelry store was completed in short order, and they moved on to some of the other stores. In the center court stood a huge Christmas tree decorated in nothing but lights and three scraggly angels cut out of construction paper. They looked so lonesome, hanging there, and Mulder stopped to look.

“Three names left,” Scully said, reading the tags. “Would you mind very much if we went back to the toy store? I’d hate to think of these three kids not having anything under the tree on Christmas morning.”

In typical fashion, the mall had put up a tree full of names of kids who, without the generosity of the mall’s patrons, wouldn’t be getting Christmas gifts this year because they were either orphans, homeless, or their parents simply couldn’t afford luxuries beyond food and drink.

“We can’t let that happen,” Mulder said, beaming with pride at her thoughtfulness. “We can stop off at JC Penney’s and pick them up some warm clothes, too, okay?”

“I can’t think of a better way to spend Christmas eve day eve,” she laughed, lifting the tags from the tree.

The department store was closer, so they started out there. As it turned out, the tags were for a seven-year-old girl named Andrea, a five-year-old boy named Colin, and a three-year-old girl named, of all things, Margaret. They came upon the boys’ section first, and found a pair of jeans, a shirt, a jacket, scarf and gloves in just the right size according to the information on his tag. While they were choosing between a red and green shirt, Mulder couldn’t help but wonder how Scully would deal with this. Anything involving little girls seemed to remind her of Emily, and that was a sore spot that he didn’t want her to have to revisit. But it had been her choice to take the names, so maybe he was worrying needlessly.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to offer.

“Would you like me to go and find some clothes for the girls while you check these out?” he asked her.

“No, Mulder. If you really don’t mind, I’d like for us to pick them out together.”

“Are you sure?” he asked doubtfully.

“I’m sure.” She drew closer, laying her hand on his cheek. “I know you worry about me. And I won’t admit that it doesn’t hurt to be reminded of her. But I can’t pretend that every female child in the world under the age of 12 doesn’t exist. These kids need good presents for Christmas.” She smiled and her eyes gleamed. “Not that your choices wouldn’t be just perfect, but I think I’d better . . .”

“Make sure I don’t screw it up?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have put it quite that way.”

“But it fits, right?”

“Yeah.” He couldn’t argue with her. What did HE know about buying clothes for a little girl?

But, luckily, Scully knew all the ins and outs, and got each girl clothing that was both useful and something they’d probably like.

The gift-wrapping line wasn’t nearly as bad as they expected, and in short order, they had bags full of wrapped presents. That done, they headed for KB Toys, both to pick out toys for the three “tree” kids and to reclaim their vehicle and head home.

The toys came first, and their arms were quickly filled with Barbie and Pokemon and Playschool’s finest. KB didn’t have a gift wrapping department, but a small table in the mall nearby held some teenagers wrapping gifts for charity, so Scully gladly forked over the extra money to have everything wrapped up.

All the tree gifts were dropped off at one of the many stations, this one located right near the gift wrappers and toy store. At least they made it easy on you, Mulder thought.

“I don’t know about you,” Scully said as they made their way to the loading dock, “but I’m bushed. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” Mulder agreed. “But we have one more stop to make. Don’t worry, this isn’t anything you have to help with if you don’t want to. You can nap if you want.”

“No way, Mulder. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say.” They turned the corner and found Dennis, standing beside the van with the cargo doors still open. “Oh, my God. . .” Scully’s mouth was hanging open.

The back of the truck was filled from top to bottom, back to front, with boxes, but Scully was the only one surprised by this.

“Mulder, what’s in all these boxes?”

“Scully, what store are we at?” he asked, and she looked confused at the non-sequitur.

“KB Toys.”

“So what do you suppose is in the boxes? Hickory Farms cheese?”

“Okay, so that wasn’t one of my smarter questions,” she laughed. “It should have been, ‘Mulder, where are we going with all these toys?'”

“Get in and you’ll see,” was all he said, and as a testament to her trust in him, she did so without further explanation. He jumped behind the wheel and they drove for another fifteen or twenty minutes before pulling into a large driveway that led to what looked like a school. The sign, however, explained.

“Greater Tri-State Metropolitan Children’s Home.”

To be continued in Part 2

Christmas, Mulder Style 2/3

By Mary Kleinsmith (BUC252@aol.com)

Mulder could see that Scully finally understood what was happening.

She motioned to the button beside the delivery doors. “Should I ring the door bell while you start to unload? I’m sure somebody will answer who can help.”

“No, don’t!” Scully jumped at the shout. Quieter this time, he added, “just help me with these.”

They went to work, piling the boxes in neat stacks in front of the door.

“Mulder are you sure that blocking an exit is such a good idea? What if there’s an emergency and they need to get out before they find this veritable fortress.” She motioned to the wall of boxes, the last of which he was putting into place.

“It’s near midnight, in case you hadn’t noticed. Nobody is going to be up. “C’mon, get into the truck.”

Fortunately, she obeyed without argument this time, and they were already turning off the road before he saw any activity in his peripheral vision. He’d gotten away again.

They rode in silence for several minutes before Scully had apparently waited long enough and started her inquisition. “Mulder, did you buy all those toys, or did the store donate them?”

“Does it matter?” he responded, knowing full well he wasn’t going to get away with it.

“I think I have a right to know. We’re not just business partners anymore, remember?”

“Ever so clearly,” he responded with a sigh. “No, the store did not donate them. Although they did give me a special discount.”

“And every year you buy a truck full of toys for kids who otherwise wouldn’t get any?” Since he was driving, he couldn’t see the love in her face, but he could hear it in her voice.

“It’s no big deal. I mean, who else do I have to buy presents for? You, your Mom, and the Gunmen. And Skinner if I’m not on the outs with him around the holidays. May as well put the money to good use, right?”

“And they don’t know you do this? The children’s home, I mean.”

“No, and I don’t want them to know. So before you get any ideas in that beautiful head of yours . . .”

“I promise. They won’t know who their Secret Santa is.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“So, think Santa’s little elf could spend the night at Santa’s place?” he grinned as he pulled onto her street.

“As nice as that sounds, Santa, this elf has some things she needs to take care of at her apartment. I don’t want to have to worry about everything there over the holiday.”

“Okay,” he said, disappointed, as he pulled the van to a stop in front of her building. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow. I’ll be a little late – I need to return the van. At lunch, I’ll run over and pick up your Mom’s gift, too.”

“Pack a bag, okay? We’ll head over there right from work.”

“Think your Mom will approve of our sleeping in the same bed under her roof?”

“I have no idea, but maybe we shouldn’t, just to keep the peace.”

“Meaning you haven’t had the nerve yet to tell her we’ve been sleeping together?”

“Let’s just say it hasn’t come up in casual conversation, okay?” she said from outside the van door. She leaned back into the window.

“Goodnight, Mulder.”

“Goodnight,” he responded, pulling away after he saw her enter the building and the door lock behind her.

**

She only got four or so hours of sleep, but there was an errand she just had to run, and she couldn’t resist. She’d set her alarm for 4:30 am, and rose and dressed almost on auto-pilot so that she was sitting outside the children’s home by six. She had no idea what time people started to rouse at such an establishment, but wanted to be there to watch when they found Mulder’s offerings. Not that she could explain the need she felt to observe this – she just did.

Finally, around 6:30, a head poked out the door. It was a man, not a child, but his face shone with joy as he beheld the boxes.

One at a time, he brought them into the building, and by the time it took him to return, she deduced that he was putting them away, too, not just moving them in out of the weather. She could see his lips pursed in a whistle as he accomplished his task, until finally, he moved the last one.

She’d thought, with all her investigative experience, that she’d been out of sight . . . was certain that the man hadn’t seen her. But she’d been wrong, because, as the doors closed the final time, a knock came on the passenger window of her car.

Unthreatening, a different man, older and wise-looking, entreated her to open her window, which she did.

“Excuse me, ma’am. I may be way out of line here, but do we have you to thank for the Christmas gifts? I know they were meant to be anonymous, but we’d really like to know.”

“I’m sorry, no, I’m not your Santa. I do know who he is, though. He’s a very close friend of mine.”

“Will you tell us who he is?” he asked again, gently. “We owe him so much.”

“I’m afraid I’m sworn to secrecy,” Scully told him. “I’m sorry. You’re right – he does deserve recognition.”

“Well, if you won’t tell us who he is, would you come in for a few minutes? There are some things I’d like to give you to pass on to him.”

“Of course,” Scully agreed, getting out of the car and following the kindly old man into the building.

**

“Dana! Fox!” Maggie’s smiling face greeted them at the door, and Mulder found himself relaxing in her warm presence. A few moments later, that presence evolved into an embrace. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Mom,” Scully responded, getting a hug of her own.

“Let me take your coats, and go on into the living room,” Maggie offered. “I’ll get us something to drink. Eggnog or Christmas punch, Fox?”

“Punch, please, Mrs. Scully. Thank you.”

“Maggie, please. Okay, punch it is, and I know what Dana wants.” The partners exchanged a grin as Maggie let them.

“I was always a nut for eggnog,” she tells him. “When I was a child, Mom and Dad had to forcibly stop me after two glasses or I’d drink so much that I’d be sick on it.”

“You have no idea how much whining we had to endure,” Maggie said, returning to the room with three glasses on a tray. “Dinner will be ready in about half an hour. I hope you’re both hungry.”

“Are you kidding?” Mulder joked. “We skipped lunch today in preparation for this.”

“He’s serious,” Dana assured her. “He’s been looking forward to your cooking ever since he agreed to come over.”

“And I’m so very glad you did, Fox. It never feels completely like Christmas until you’re with those you love.”

“But what about your sons?” he asked. “Won’t it feel incomplete without them?”

“Being a military wife has taught me to celebrate long distance. We’ll talk on the speaker phone tonight, and for the first time,” she smiled, “I’ll have all my kids with me for Christmas.” The meaning of her words weren’t lost on either of them, and Mulder blushed at the love in her words.

“I’m sorry,” he said, realizing. “For all the years I turned you down. I just realized that that may have hurt you, and if it did, I apologize. It was never about you.” Trying to lighten the mood, he added, “what can I say? I’m screwed up.”

“Fox, you’ve been hurt. From what Dana said, your family life has been . . . well, let’s just say I can’t blame you for not knowing how to accept our kind of love.”

“Dana’s helped me sort of get out of my own way on that kind of thing,” Mulder uncharacteristically blushed.

“And I’m so happy about that,” Maggie responded. “Oh, Dana. I forgot to mention to you that they’ve moved midnight mass to ten o’clock this year. Is that going to be okay? We could find a midnight mass to attend at another parish if your heart’s set on it.”

“It’s not the time that’s important as much as the service itself, Mom. That’ll be fine.”

“Fox, you can stay here if you want, or you’re welcome to join us. We’d be very happy for you to come.”

“I’m afraid I’m not much for organized religion. And I haven’t been to a mass in decades.”

“You wouldn’t have to participate if it makes you uncomfortable.” She smiled gently. “It would be nice to have you sitting beside me this year – in Bill’s place.”

“How can I resist an offer like that?” Mulder responded.

“Are you sure?” Scully asked him.

“I’m not converting, Scully. It’s just a simple Christmas eve mass.”

The phone’s ringing effectively ended the conversation, and Scully and Maggie talked for awhile on speakerphone with Bill, Tara, and Matthew. They exchanged meaningful glances when the young boy told them some of the things he’d asked Santa for, knowing that most of them had been included in the packages they’d sent.

Going with his better judgment, Mulder kept quiet throughout the phone call, and nobody let on that he was even in the room. No need to start an argument with Bill if it wasn’t necessary, and he could come up with no good reason for revealing this information. They all talked for nearly half an hour before saying goodbye. Since dinner was ready to come out of the oven, Bill and his family understood, and made a promise to talk again on New Years.

Maggie set a scrumptious spread, and while Mulder was fully capable of throwing together a meal if he needed to, he found a warmth in partaking in such a meal. Glazed ham – the kind made from scratch, not pre-cooked – wild rice, pineapple, and cheese rigatoni made for an extraordinary feast.

“Maggie, this is incredible,” Mulder said as he took one of the three chairs around the table.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said, blushing a bit. “Because I fully intend to send a good deal of it home with you.”

“But . . .”

“No buts. I can’t possibly eat this many leftovers, and you could use something that’s not full of chemicals and preservatives. Or are you just trying to refuse my cooking?” A raised eyebrow reminded him where his partner got the expression.

“Never. I may be crazy, but I’m not insane.”

Both women laughed at him and hey settled into the meal amid stories of Dana’s past mis-spent Christmases. Maggie was shocked to learn about the year they’d spent Christmas Eve in a haunted house, and actually managed to get Dana to talk a bit about the year they’d found Emily. Talking about it actually seemed to make Dana feel better, and she spoke openly about the child’s mannerisms and how much she reminded her of Melissa.

They also talked about those who had been lost, and who had gone on before. Not just Melissa and Emily, but Scully’s father, Teena and Bill Mulder, and even Samantha. Surprisingly, Maggie had never heard the entire story of her disappearance, and the facts of what finally was revealed to have happened to her. The idea of a government agency – albeit a secret one – taking such actions against their own citizens seemed stunning to her. It was difficult to talk about her diary, and the years of torture she suffered while they were separated, but he also found it comforting to have a sympathetic ear beyond Scully’s. By dessert, he was surprised to find himself feeling happier than he had in ages – except, of course, when he was alone with his beautiful partner.

After the food was eaten, Maggie put all the leftovers into containers while Mulder and Scully washed and dried the dishes. They were putting the last of the silverware into the drawer when the phone rang again, and Maggie’s face brightened.

“That’ll be Charlie!” Dana exclaimed, grabbing the phone. There was silence for a moment. “Charlie, I’m going to put you on the speaker, hold on.”

She pressed the button and hung up the receiver. “You still there, little brother?”

“Yep, we’re all here.”

A chorus of hello’s rang out, but Mulder could discern four distinct voices, one female, three male. Then Charlie’s voice came again.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t be there, Mom, but you know how the military is.”

“Yes, I understand. It’s okay – and I have Dana and Fox to share my holiday, so I’m not alone.”

“Well, well, well!” Charlie exclaimed. “The infamous Fox Mulder! It’s nice to talk to you again, even if it can’t be in person.”

“Same here,” Mulder responded. “Merry Christmas.”

They all talked for quite some time – almost an hour – as Mulder and Charlie exchanged some sports talk and the kids told all the things they hoped would be under the tree for them the following morning.

“Fox is taking us out for a surprise tomorrow,” Maggie told her family as Dana smiled. She still had no idea what her partner had in store, but the idea of having an insight into his idea of Christmas was as much enjoyable as it was intriguing. Leave it to Mulder to make a mystery on Christmas.

“Oooh, Mulder,” Charlie chuckled. “Dana loves surprises – didn’t she ever tell you?”

“Well, maybe that’s why she . . .” he thought twice, then said, “why she’s stayed working with me for all these years.” Even though Maggie knew they were more than friends, he wasn’t sure it was the right time to reveal this to her little brother.

“Maybe,” Charlie responded. “Anyway, we’d better let you all get back to your evening. I’ll talk to you before the New Year, Mom.”

“Thanks, baby. Merry Christmas to everybody. We love you.”

“We love you, too,” they all said simultaneously. “Merry Christmas!”

There was silence for a few moments after the call was disconnected, the missing family members still a strong presence in the room. It was still a good hour before they planned to leave for church.

“Well, kids,” Maggie began. “Would you like to open presents now, or wait until after mass?”

“To be honest,” Scully admitted, “by the time mass is over, I’m probably going to be dead to the world. How about if we do it now?”

“Sounds good to me,” Maggie admitted. “Let me just go get your gifts.”

“Ours are in our bags,” Mulder said, getting up to retrieve the large bag by the door. He and Scully had agreed to not only bring Maggie’s gifts, but to also bring theirs for each other, to make it a real family Christmas.

They felt richer than Midas as they sat, Mulder and Scully on the sofa and Maggie on the couch in the livingroom, surrounded by wrapped parcels. There were not only gifts from each other, but those sent across country from Charlie and Bill’s families. Those were the gifts they decided to open first.

Mulder didn’t mind that there weren’t any in this bunch for him. It had been far too long since he’d had Christmas gifts to feel left out – he was just enjoying the glee in Scully and Maggie’s faces as they opened theirs. The gifts were thoughtful and showed just how well the members of this family knew each other. He felt a pang of loss as he realized that this never was the case with his own family, even when they were still alive. It was nice to see.

It took him off guard when Maggie handed a small, wrapped package to him. “This is for you, Fox. I found it among Melissa’s things after we lost her, with a note to give it to you the Christmas of 2002.”

“What?!” Mulder said in surprise.

“Open it!” Scully exclaimed excitedly. “What would Missy leave for you? You hardly knew her.”

“True. She did get me through one of the worst times in my life,” he said, exchanging a look with Scully that told how terrified he’d been that he was losing her.

He took it tentatively, and the women watched as he carefully tore the wrapping from the box. Opening it, he found a glistening ornament, gold embedded with colored crystals. The design was a scale engraved “Libra” on which was balanced two fish marked “Pisces.” He held it up and they watched it reflect in the light.

“It’s beautiful.”

“There’s a note,” Scully said, finding a sheet of paper folded into the lid of the box. She unfolded it and read aloud. “Dear Fox,” she smiled a bit, reading ahead silently.

“Well?” Mulder asked, interrupting her daydreaming.

“Oh, yeah. ‘Dear Fox. I plan to give this to you eight years from the time I’m writing it, but in case I’m unable, I’ve included this note. I hope by now that you and Dana have come to realize that your souls are drawn to one another and you’re destined to be together. I gave you eight years to figure it out – but I wanted to be sure. You are Libra and Dana is Pisces – please accept this symbol of how they will always belong together, as you and she will always belong together. Merry Christmas.'”

Maggie chuckled as the other two just shook their heads in amazement.

They’d been so sure they were fooling everybody else, just as assuredly as they’d been fooling themselves. “At least we got out of our own ways before she had to tell us,” Scully said. Standing, she took the ornament from Mulder’s hand and carefully hung it on the tree. “Merry Christmas, Missy,” she whispered.

Finally, they got to their gifts to each other. Maggie’s eyes lit up at the peach-colored sweater set that Dana had picked out for her, and Scully laughed when she opened her gift to find that her mother had chosen the same sweater set in a royal blue for her daughter.

Maggie handed over a large box to a blushing Mulder. “This is from Dana and me,” Maggie said.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it from her. It was beautifully wrapped – almost too beautiful to disturb – but the women urged him and he finally opened it.

“Oh, my . . .” he said, taking in the contents. He’d never expected her to be so extravagant. “Maggie, Scully, you shouldn’t have . . .”

“There are ten years of missed Christmases in that gift, on my part alone, I’ll have you know,” Maggie smiled at him. “Just don’t ask me to help set it up. I know nothing of such things.”

Mulder looked with astonishment at the gift – a new DVD player and several DVD’s, the first of which was Plan 9 from Outer Space. He laughed – obviously, she’d been talking to her daughter. “Thank you, Maggie. You too, Scully. It’s wonderful.” Suddenly, he was glad he’d chosen the gifts he had for them. “Now, it’s your turns.”

To be Concluded in Part 3

Christmas, Mulder Style 3/3

By Mary Kleinsmith (BUC252@aol.com)

First, he gave a box to Scully, which she unwrapped to reveal a gold heart pendant of red garnets. “Oh, Mulder, it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed as she hugged him soundly. He kissed her and then she sat down so he could bestow his last gift.

He handed a small box to her. The paper was gold metallic, the bow matching. He didn’t care that he hadn’t wrapped it himself, and knew she wouldn’t hold it against him.

Her eyes grew wide when she saw the “Reeds” box, knowing that they sold only the beset in jewelry. Nothing costume would come from there. “Oh, Fox, what have you done?”

Inside was a gold pin that said, “Mom,” a large stone representing Maggie’s birth month underlined with a row of colored gemstones. He wondered if he’d have to explain, but she recognized what it was right away. “Oh, Fox! How did you ever get all the . . .”

“I am an agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, remember?”

“It’s beautiful,” Maggie said. “Bill’s birthstone, then Tara’s, Charlie’s and his wife’s, Melissa’s, Dana’s, and . . .” Her jaw dropped in awe as she realized.

At her silence, Mulder prayed he hadn’t been too presumptuous.

Instead of the anger he feared, he instead ended up with Maggie’s arms wrapped about him. He realized that he felt moisture on his neck where her face was nestled. Now he was scared.

“Maggie . . . I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”

“Are you kidding?” she asked, withdrawing from him and wiping her eyes, but her voice was strong. “This is the nicest thing anybody has ever done for me. In my eyes, you’ve been a part of this family, Fox Mulder, since the day you came to tell me that Dana had been kidnapped, and all those following months when you kept me sane. The best gift I could get was this – your acceptance of your place in our family.”

“I’m going to wear this to mass!” Maggie proclaimed, removing it from the box and affixing it to her dress. “Now I’ll have all my kids with me at all times.”

“And speaking of which,” Scully said, joining the two others. “Before you steal away my man, I think we’d better get going if we want to get a pew.” They all laughed, exchanging kisses before retrieving their coats.

The mass was lovely, and Mulder found himself glad that he’d come. The choir was particularly touching as they sang classics like O Holy Night and Silent Night. They left the service with a warmth within that couldn’t be reduced by the cold outside. The drive back to Maggie’s house was cozy, and quiet, the silent night just as peaceful as the song described that first Christmas eve.

Returning to the house, it glowed from the windows with light from the tree. Mulder and Scully retrieved their overnight cases, which had been left inside the front door.

“I’m ready for bed,” Scully yawned. “It’s been a long day.”

“It sure has,” Mulder agreed. “And tomorrow will be a busy day,” he

grinned.

“Still not going to tell us where we’re going?” Scully asked.

“Nope. You promised to spend a typical Christmas day with me – you’re not trying to get out of it, are you?”

“Not on your life,” Scully answered, sounding offended, but still smiling.

“Me neither,” Maggie nodded. “Just tell me one thing – what do I put on in the morning.”

“Something comfortable, but it doesn’t have to be too terribly warm. The room we’ll be in can get a little bit heated.”

“Well, that’s cryptic,” Scully chuckled as they climbed the stairs.

Mulder’s eyes met Maggie’s for just a moment before he went into a separate room from her daughter, and he wasn’t sure if it was approval or disappointment he saw in them.

**

Mulder couldn’t sleep. They didn’t need to leave the house until eight or nine o’clock, yet he found himself staring at the ceiling by dawn. He knew, intellectually, that sharing this part of himself wasn’t a mistake, and yet he’d learned the hard way about revealing too much of himself and getting stung by it. The fear, after all these years, was ingrained in him. He knew that he wouldn’t alienate Scully, but he feared disappointing Maggie, and that surprised him.

He’d never worried about that kind of thing until he’d committed himself to Scully. She’d taught him to care. He guessed, in many ways, that was good.

So he lay there, thinking, for hours. About Scully, about their future, about his past, for yes, he believed he couldn’t look to the future without looking to the past as well. It was a circle. Until finally, he heard stirrings from the room next door and knew it was safe to rise and dress.

They gathered in the kitchen for coffee and pastries. It felt right to be in this environment, despite how very different it was from his every day life. Once mugs were washed and put away, the ladies donned coats as they walked to the car, seemingly excited to be off on their adventure.

Mulder climbed behind the wheel and headed into the city, making their way to the innermost recesses of Washington. And if opulence and wealth reigned in the more popular areas of the city, they soon realized that there were just as many areas where poverty abounded.

At last, he pulled into a parking space in front of a clean but badly run-down building. The mission.

Getting out of the car, Scully stared in wonder. “This is how you spend your Christmas days, Mulder?”

“Somebody has to do it,” he said. “I never saw any reason why it shouldn’t be me. Food needs to be cooked and served – and if it’s not, these people don’t get to eat today.”

They walked into the room and were greeted by several fellow worked, all who had become familiar with Mulder over the years. They could hear commotion in an adjoining room, and Scully peeked out a door to see an already-established line of people.

“When will they start serving?” she asked as she followed Mulder and Maggie into the kitchen.

“It all depends on when we get it set up and ready. I’m lucky – I didn’t draw kitchen duty this year or I’d have had to have been here hours ago to put the turkeys in the oven. I’m serving today, which means I’m going to need help getting the tables put up.

He finally forced himself to look the two women in the face for the first time since their arrival. Scully’s held approval, which he knew it would, but his relief was almost palpable when he saw not just acceptance in Maggie’s, but pride as well. “Do you mind spending your Christmas this way?”

“Fox, I love my family. They are just about everything to me. But we’ve been selfish, and you’ve opened my eyes to that. We’ve enjoyed our Christmases in a warm house with a kitchen full of food. The least I can do to make up for it is spend this Christmas here, with you. Thank you, Fox.”

“That goes for me, too, Mulder. You’ve made this a wonderful Christmas.” Scully hugged him tightly. “And now, we’d better get to work.”

By noon, the serving tables were set up and the first of the huge bowls full of turkey, stuffing, potatoes, and vegetables were being brought out. Maggie and Scully each tied on an apron, grabbed a serving spoon, and took places behind the table with Mulder and a few others. People, old and young, single and entire families, filed by and received plates of food.

It never ceased to amaze him, and he never felt anything like he felt when he stood here and watched people, especially dirty and sad-looking children, eagerly shoving the food into their mouths, and knowing that it would probably be next year before they ever had another meal like this again. Scully kept looking at him with that look in her eyes, but she was wrong. He was no hero – he just couldn’t resist having this feeling.

After a few hours, the line lightened a bit, and Mulder told Scully and Maggie to take a break, go get themselves a plate, and have their dinner. The time had gone so fast, they looked as surprised as he had when he’d looked up to see the time.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Scully asked him with concern.

“There aren’t enough servers for all three of us to go at once. When you’re done, I’ll have something, I promise.” Nodding, Scully and Maggie did as they were told. Every once in awhile, Mulder would look over at them and see their heads together in conspiratorial whispers. They were planning something, but he didn’t have time to worry what it was.

He traded places with them once they were finished, and found himself sitting at a table alone, eating turkey and dressing. It didn’t feel foreign to him, and didn’t even feel sad as it had in years before, because he had somebody waiting for him nearby. It made all the difference in the world.

From her place behind the serving tables, Scully was having a hard time paying attention to what she was doing. Her attention kept straying to Mulder, watching him as he ate. She’d always known he was smart, and handsome, and many other things. Now she also knew that his generosity was beyond anything she’d ever expected.

A group of small children, tummies full but still dirty, played near the serving tables. She went over to talk to them.

“Hi, kids!”

“Hi, lady,” a few of them said simultaneously.

“My name is Dana.” Each of them introduced themselves, and she tried to remember as many as she could. Finally she bent down closer, whispering to them. “Do you know that man sitting over there?” She pointed to Mulder.

“Sure,” one child, who seemed to be the leader, said. “That’s Mr. Mulder. He comes here every year.”

Another child spoke up. “I heard somebody say once that he’s a spy! That would be so cool!”

Scully laughed. “Well, he does work for the government, but right now, want to know a secret?”

“Sure!” chorused the five and six year olds.

“Well, Mr. Mulder hasn’t had a hug in a long, long time.”

“Don’t his mommy and daddy hug him?” one precocious child asked.

“His mommy and daddy died. He sure would appreciate a hug, I think.”

“You’re his girlfriend, aren’t you? Why don’t you hug him more often?” asked a very mature child of perhaps seven.

“I do, but it’s just not the same as a hug from a child. What do you say? It would make him really happy, I’m sure.”

The kids nodded to each other, and suddenly Mulder was being swarmed over. They were on his lap and his back, sitting in the chair next to him, on the table, and standing, but all the little arms were wrapped around him. He was laughing.

“Thanks for coming to see us!”

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Mulder.”

“Are you done eating yet?”

“Wanna come and play with us?”

“Your girlfriend is pretty.”

All the voices were hard to discern, but to Mulder, the hugs were like heaven. “Thanks, everybody! Did you all eat your dinners?”

“Every bite!” said a little brown-haired girl.

“Good,” he smiled. “Stay here a second, and I’ll be right back.” He went out to the car, returning with some boxes.

“Okay, line up!” They did as he ordered, and each child received a bright red and white candy cane. They all thanked him, hugged him again, and scampered off to places unknown.

Returning to his duties at the serving table, Scully looked at him warmly. “Mulder, you are amazing.”

“So are you. You put up with me.”

“Well,” Maggie said with a wide grin. “I think you’re both pretty amazing, but I’m admittedly partial.”

They continued to work until late afternoon when the food supply and lines were exhausted, as were the workers, but it was a good exhausted.

“I’m going to sleep like a rock tonight,” Maggie said as they got into the car. “But it’s the best kind of tiredness I’ve felt in a long time. Thank you, Fox.”

“Well, you wanted to see how I spend my Christmases . . .”

“I will never again consider your holiday mis-spent,” Scully added and kissed him on the cheek.

They drove Maggie back to her place, reclaiming their gifts and the leftovers from the previous night before wishing her a goodnight and leaving her to some peace and quiet. Once alone in the car, Scully looked at him warmly again. “How about we go back to your place?”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. I don’t think I’m ready to leave you just yet.”

“I don’t have much of a tree, y’know.”

“Yes, I know. And it doesn’t matter. Just so long as you’re there. Besides, I have one more gift for you.”

“Another one? Scully, you’ve already given me so much.”

“I didn’t want you to open this until we were alone.”

“Ooooh, Scully. I’m intrigued,” Mulder said lasciviously.

“It’s not that kind of gift, Mulder,” Scully smiled. “Although I won’t rule anything out for later on.”

Both of them carried their overnight bags into the apartment when they arrived at Hegel place, but while Scully went and sat on the couch, Mulder went to the refrigerator instead.

“I was hoping we’d come back here,” he said, joining her on the couch with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He opened it, and poured.

“You know, Mulder. I didn’t think, before yesterday, that I could love you any more than I already do, but I do.”

“Thanks. I know I couldn’t love you any more. Now how about my present?” His eyes lit up like a child’s.

“Okay, but first, I want to explain. Yesterday while you were returning the van, I went back to the children’s home.”

“Scully, those gifts were supposed to be anonymous!”

“I know, and I promise, I didn’t betray your secret. I wanted to see . . . Well, I’m sure you understand. I talked to the man in charge, and he asked me to give this to you – so I guess it’s really more his gift to you than mine.”

She gave him a package wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper. When he opened it, there were several large envelopes bound together with a piece of yarn. On closer inspection, each envelope had a year on it.

He looked at her, perplexed.

“Each year, the director of the home told me, the kids made drawings for the person who brought them the toys. They gave them to him and asked that he’d make sure the donor got their messages, but he’d never been able to fulfill that promise. Until now.”

Opening the first envelope, he took out sixty or seventy sheets of paper with crayoned drawings, mostly of the kids playing with their new toys. Almost all of them said, “thank you,” on them somewhere, and one even said, “our own Santa,” on it. Mulder read every one, and when he looked up at her, his eyes were moist.

“Thank you, Scully.”

“No, thank you, Mulder. You reminded me that Christmas is about giving – not just to those we love, but to everybody.”

They hugged, and she nuzzled closer into him, nearly dozing off instantaneously when he roused her. “Oh, but there’s one more gift to open.”

“What?” she said, surprised.

“Your Mom gave me this box as we were leaving the house tonight and told me we were to open it when we were alone.” He got up and retrieved the brightly-wrapped shirt-size box from his own overnight bag.

“What do you think it is?” Scully asked as he rejoined her on the couch.

“I have no idea, but I don’t know why we can’t find out.”

Together they tore off the paper and then carefully lifted the lid.

Scully blushed, as a laugh forced itself from Mulder.

For in the box, nestled among the tissue paper, was a red, see-through negligee.

“I guess we didn’t have to worry about the separate rooms after all,” Mulder chuckled.

“No, I guess not. And now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said, snagging the box’s contents, “I’m going to go put on OUR Christmas present.”

They may not have peace on earth, but they had happiness, and they had love. And what more could two people want?

The End

Title: Airport Story

Author: Vickie Moseley

Summary: Mulder decides to surprise Scully and Maggie

with a Christmas trip to San Diego, but things don’t

quite work out as planned.

Written for IMTP Virtual Season 10, Christmas Special

Event

Rating: PG

Category: MRS, slight A

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.

Archive: Two weeks exclusive with VS10, then

anywhere.

Notes: This goes out to all our wonderful readers who

have been so supportive. Happy Holidays to all of

you!

Airport Story

By Vickie Moseley

vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Mulder looked out at the stark whiteness just beyond

the plate glass window and sighed. On the runways,

nothing was moving, not a luggage carrier, not even

the emergency snowplows that had made their last

sweep about an hour and a half ago. The jets, lined

up and hauntingly dark, were slowly being covered in

a huge mound of snow. It was as if someone had just

dumped half the Arctic Circle on O’Hare International

Airport.

“It’s not your fault.” He smiled at the words as he

felt the small, warm hand grip his tee shirt covered

bicep.

He continued to stare out onto the field. “How can

you say that, Scully? I made the reservations. I

booked us on a flight with a layover in Chicago,

knowing full well that winter in the Midwest should

have been one of Dante’s visions of hell. And not

only that,” he said, finally braving a look down into

her eyes, “I just ruined Christmas for your mom.”

Scully joined him in a commiserating sigh. “But you

were trying so hard to do the right thing, Mulder.

Yes, a direct flight would have us at Bill and Tara’s

already,” she said, knowing full well that would have

been assured if she’d made the reservations. “But you

did all this as a surprise, for me and for Mom. And

she appreciates it, really, she does.”

“She hasn’t said two words to me since they announced

the cancellation,” he countered.

“She’s been on the phone to Bill and Tara,” Scully

shot back. “And Charlie and Bonnie. If she can’t be

with them in person, Mom likes to talk.”

He wasn’t buying it. “No, Scully, I screwed the pooch

big time,” he said and sighed again. “Now Bill has

more ammunition for our next encounter, and in the

meantime, we’re going to starve to death at O’Hare

Airport.”

“The CinnaBon is still open,” Scully offered

helpfully.

He burped and grimaced. “That icing always makes me

sick to my stomach,” he groaned. “Too bad the Vienna

hot dog guy had a four wheel drive vehicle. He looked

like the enterprising sort. The kind to make a profit

off others misery.”

She affectionately chucked him in the arm. “C’mon,

come sit down. At least the TVs are still on.”

“Showing in glorious CNN technicolor the path of the

worst winter storm in the upper midwest since the New

Years Eve Blizzard of 1978-79.” Mulder stood his

ground for another minute, then sighed again and

turned back to where their coats and carryon

luggage sat at the end of a long row of industrial

strength black airport chairs.

Surprisingly, other stranded travelers didn’t

surround them. Most planes had been diverted to other

airports and many people had taken up the airlines

offer of free accommodations at nearby hotels. But

the DC flight had been one of the last to arrive and

the hotels had reached capacity, leaving about 150

people scattered around the terminal. At least the

American Airlines ticket clerk had assured them they

would be the first to leave when the weather

cleared.

The shops were all locked down, the Cinna-Bon

eventually closed up and the passengers all found

quiet corners to huddle under trench coats and ski

jackets, arms wrapped around airplane courtesy

pillows that the stranded flight attendants had

secreted off the plane. Scully had given up talking

to him an hour ago, knowing that in his current

mental funk there was no way to reason with him. She

curled up on the floor, resting her head on her arm,

her hand on his foot, as if he might considered

running off.

Mulder sat with his back against the wall, arms

wrapped loosely around his knees, watching the snow

pile up against the planes and the other assorted

vehicles on the runway. In the near silence of

the terminal, the sound of a throat being cleared

caused him to jump a foot.

“Mrs. Scully,” he gasped out, when he realized who

was settling down next time him. “I thought you were

sleeping.”

Maggie smiled at him and shook her head. “My bones

are just too old to be sleeping anywhere but in a

bed, Fox. I cat napped, I’m fine for now.”

If it were possible to feel more guilty, Mulder found

a way. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Scully. You should be

home. Or at Bill and Tara’s.”

He startled when that statement received a snort. “On

their rollaway? No, thanks, Fox. I think I’d prefer a

nice bed over at the Hilton,” she said with a wink.

“Not that Tara isn’t a perfect little hostess,” she

amended quickly.

Mulder smothered his smirk at her little admission.

“No, she was wonderful the last time we were out.”

“Bill, of course, is another matter all together,”

Maggie gave him another conspiratorial wink. When he

feigned innocence at her remark, she linked her arm

in his. “Oh, Fox. No need to play possum. I know that

Bill has been quite a handful where you are

concerned. I just hope you realize that his is not

the majority opinion in the family.”

Mulder turned his head to gaze back out at the snow.

“I couldn’t blame you if it were the majority

opinion,” he whispered.

Shaking her head, Maggie smacked him lightly on the

arm. “Fox William Mulder, if there is one thing I

want to teach you it’s to get over yourself!”

He snapped his head around to look at her. What had

she said?

“You know, it’s all very nice to feel sorry for

things that you’re responsible for. When you used to

run off without telling Dana where you were going,

for example. That was very disrespectful to her, not

to mention downright dangerous most of the time. I

think guilt over those instances would be well

placed. But . . .” she said firmly, squeezing his arm

gently. “But guilt over things that you have

absolutely no control over is just, well, I’ve always

thought it was very selfish, myself.”

He blinked at her. Had her heard her right? “Selfish?

How is it selfish? I’m admitting that I’m no good,

for you daughter, your family. How is that selfish?”

“OK, maybe selfish is the wrong word,” Maggie

admitted. “Egocentric is probably a better term.” At

his wide-eyed stare she chuckled. “Come on, Fox. How

could you possibly have known it was going to storm

so heavily tonight?”

“Oh, let’s think?” Mulder sneered. “Every weather

report for the last five days, Accuweather on the

internet, the Weather Channel . . .”

“All with possible accumulation of 2 to 4 inches

predicted for the upper Midwest, yes, I know, I’ve

watched my share of the Weather Channel late at

night, too, dear. But not in a single forecast did

anyone predict such winds and blizzard conditions.

And I’ve flown out of BWI with three inches of snow

on the ground. So you couldn’t have known what we

were in for.”

“But I know how weather gets in this part of the

country,” he countered. “Remember, Mrs. Scully, I’ve

been traveling around this country for ten years now.

I should have known better.”

She shook her head. “And if Christmas were a floating

holiday, I’m sure all of this could have been

avoided. But it’s not. It comes once a year.”

“And I’ve screwed up two of them now,” he said

mournfully. “And aided and abetted in screwing up a

third. Not a great track record.”

“Now, if you’re referring to the last Christmas we

spent with Bill and Tara, you better just rethink

that right now,” Maggie bristled. “That was not your

doing, Fox. Whatever happened that year, you were a

voice of reason and restraint with Dana and . . .

little Emily. As for the year you kept Dana out a

little late, well, she got home on time, so that

wasn’t a screw up, either. But we aren’t here to

keep score.”

“I just wanted this Christmas to be happy for her,”

he sighed and reached over to stroke his partner’s

shoulder lightly.

Maggie smiled at his tenderness. “Oh, I have no doubt

that this Christmas is a happy one for her, Fox.”

“Oh, yeah. Stranded in an airport. The perfect

holiday,” Mulder replied with a snort.

“You are never stranded anywhere when you’re with the

one you love,” Maggie shot back with a look so

identical to her daughter’s that it took Mulder’s

breath away. “Do you know how many Christmases I

would have paid good money to be stranded anywhere

with Dana’s father?”

Mulder dropped his eyes. “I have no idea.”

“Four. Four years we were separated on Christmas.

Four years I did up all the stockings, I put out all

the presents, I carved the ham. I went through the

motions, for the kids, but my heart wasn’t in it.

It made me realize something. That, and a little

incident that happened a long time ago, on a

Christmas Eve much like this.” Her voice took on a

playful tone, but her expression was far away.

“I sense a story coming,” Mulder smiled at her.

She returned the smile. “You think you’re the only

one to screw up Christmas, as you so artfully put it.

Well, let me tell you, William Scully, Sr, USN, ran

rings around you, Fox. He could screw up Christmas

with both hands tied behind his back!”

Mulder relaxed against the wall, settling in to enjoy

the story.

“It was the year Dana was born. At Christmas time,

that would have made her about 10 months old. We were

living in Newport News, on the Virginia coast. My

family were all New Englanders, and we hadn’t been

home in a very long time. I asked Bill if we’d be

able to get home for Christmas. He promised to do his

best.”

“As you well know, weather was treacherous, the

interstate system was still pretty much under

construction, and I was concerned about traveling

with little ones. Bill was only 4, Missy was right

about 2 and a half and Dana, well, Dana had just

started trying to walk the week before. So the

thought of careening off the highway into a snowpile

held no appeal, to say the least. But Bill was a

man of action, and he had promised me we’d ‘be home

for Christmas’. I swear to God, if I never hear that

damned song again, I’ll die a happy woman,” she said

with an exasperated huff, ignoring the bemused look

Mulder gave her at her forcefully colorful

expression.

“We started out with clear skies, dry pavement and

more than enough diapers to hold us till we got to my

sister’s house in Portland. It was more than a day

trip, but we’d decided to drive straight through, I

would spell Bill when he got too tired. And to

be honest, that pretty much was the majority of the

trip, until we hit just north of New York City. An

Alberta Clipper, much like this one, was following

the St. Lawrence and dumped a foot and a half of snow

on New York and New England. We were stopped by state

troopers at the New York border and told the roads

were closed.”

“What did you do?” Mulder asked in rapt attention.

“Well, the reasonable choice would have been to turn

around and go back the way we came, find a motel and

sit it out. However, this was William Patrick Scully,

Lieutenant JG we’re talking about, and he wasn’t

going to let something as measly as 18 inches of snow

stand in the way of himself and a promise. Bill

backed the car around, made to go back the way we’d

come and at the first side road, started north again,

on the back country roads.”

“Weren’t those roads closed, too?” Mulder asked,

leaning forward.

“The north-south roads were icy, yes, but many

farmers had put up snow fences, so some roads were

still passable. But just to get from one little

community to another. There were several roads

that were totally snowed under and Bill would take

out the map we’d picked up at a Standard station and

find another route.”

Mulder snickered, remembering the old Standard

stations with their ‘torches’ on the glass signs.

“We weren’t making any time at all, we were going

mostly west because the northern roads were

impossible. It was about 11:30 when we were coming

into another little town. But this time, Bill

Junior woke up and got all excited. There was a

church up the street and people were going inside. He

decided that we were at my sister’s and it was time

to stop. No amount of talking could convince him that

we still had several hours to go. Well, Bill Senior

looked at Bill Junior, all excited about going to

Middle night Mass, as Billy called it, and without a

word he pulled into the parking lot of the church and

shut off the engine. We got the girls out, Dana was

sound asleep and Missy was crabby from being woken

up, but we all went into the church.

“The service was beautiful, but it seemed a little

off to me. Halfway through the homily, I looked at

the cover of the hymnal and realized we were in a

Lutheran church. Well, it hit me that we’d just

traveled a thousand miles and didn’t even get to the

right religion, much less the right church and I

started giggling. It took me several minutes to get

myself under control, but by that time Bill saw what

I’d already seen and he was starting to gather the

kids to go outside again.

“It was a well placed heel on his shin that stopped

his movements and we politely continued with the

service. The children were too little to notice any

difference and I had Lutheran friends in school so

I’d been to their services. It was so beautiful and

it was wonderful just to be still and not in that

darned car anymore. When the service was over, we

knew we had to go outside and get in the car again.

Missy started to cry, which woke Dana up and then

Billy was upset and I couldn’t take it anymore, I

started to cry right along with them. Bill looked at

me like he was going to bust a gasket, and he just

walked off. I thought he’d left us there. But a

few minutes later, he came back, with the Pastor of

the church in tow. The pastor picked up Missy, took

Billy by the hand and informed me that all of us were

coming to the parsonage, his wife was making up the

beds in the spare room for us. I didn’t have a chance

to say no.

“We thought we’d only stay until morning, but as luck

would have it, the gas line in the car froze solid

that night and we were stranded there for two days.

The Wilsons, that was their names, were delightful

people and opened their hearts and their home to

us. We had a wonderful Christmas Dinner with their

children and somehow presents appeared under the tree

for Billy, Missy and even little Dana. I will never

forget the look on Billy’s face when he was told that

Santa had actually found him in a snow storm! We left

the day after with very warm memories. I got a

Christmas card from them every year until Alice

passed away about ten years ago.”

Mulder smiled and nodded. “But Mrs. Scully, I don’t

see any Lutheran churches in the vicinity,” he

countered.

She shook her head. “You are so stubborn, Fox. It’s a

wonder the two of you haven’t killed each other in

the last ten years. But maybe that’s what you do, you

balance each other. You’re right. There aren’t any

churches here. But there is Dana. And you and I both

know there have been times we thought she would never

share another Christmas with us.”

He dropped his chin, acknowledging just how much

truth was in that statement.

“And there have been times when she and I have

worried in the same way about you,” Maggie added,

lifting his chin with her index finger.

Mulder looked in her eyes and realized that she was

speaking the truth there, too.

“You are together. And you’re both safe and warm.

What more could you ask for on Christmas Eve, Fox

Mulder?”

“Mulder?” Scully sat up, bed head lifting her auburn

hair in a very unflattering style.

“Right here, Scully,” he said soothingly. He pulled

her up so that she rested her head against his chest.

“Right here.”

“Has it stopped snowing?” Scully asked, yawning so

that her words were almost lost.

“No, but it looks a little lighter, off to the east,”

Mulder replied.

“Maybe that’s the Star of Bethlehem,” Maggie said

with a smile.

“Well, any clearing would come from the west or

north,” Scully mumbled and snuggled down on to

Mulder’s chest. “I think we’re stuck here a while

longer.”

Mulder lifted his hand and stroked her hair from her

face, but she’d already fallen back asleep. He looked

over at Maggie, who was watching them with such

affection. “There isn’t anyplace I’d rather be.”

The end