Twelve Scenes of Christmas Past and One of Christmas Future 1 of 2
12 Scenes of Christmas Past and One of Christmas Future
by ML
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, just the action figures. This is how I play with them.
1. Christmas Time is Here: Christmas 1993
The tree looked perfect. Dinner was just about ready. Dana Scully surveyed her apartment, warm and welcoming with its tree in the corner and decorations on the mantel. The hearth glowed, and soft choral music -- her father's favorite -- played softly.
As she finished setting the table, she wondered what her new partner was doing for Christmas. Not spending time with his former Oxford girlfriend, that seemed certain. She could easily have ragged on him for his behavior during the L'Ively case, but he was pretty good at self-punishment.
Mulder's reason for telling her not to come to Boston, to wit: "I'm kind of anticipating having my hands full" was possibly the lamest excuse she'd ever heard. She'd seen what they were full of, and frankly, he could do better than that upper-middle-class twit.
Keeping him out of trouble was becoming a full-time job, not that she'd ever complain to anyone about it. She was a field agent at last. She'd figure out how to keep her partner in line.
She looked at her watch and lit the candles. She knew that her parents would be on time. Ahab was never late for anything. She wasn't worried; everything was ship-shape and Bristol fashion. He'd find no fault with her quarters.
The thought made her smile, although it was fleeting. Her father hadn't yet reconciled himself to her career choice. Mom was working on him, but he would have to make up his mind in his own time. Coming over for dinner tonight was a step.
Steady as she goes, she thought. In time he'll see that I've made a good choice.
~*~
2. Deck the Halls: Christmas 1994
The cardboard boxes sat just inside her front door, a reminder that Christmas was closing in.
She dropped her keys into the tray by the door and ignored the boxes, hanging her coat up in the closet and continuing into her bedroom.
Mulder had offered to let her take it easy when she got back from wherever the hell she'd been. She'd rejected his suggestion. The work kept her going, kept her from thinking about the unthinkable. She wasn't ready to examine what had happened to her. She might never be ready.
The light on her answering machine wasn't as easy to ignore as the boxes when she emerged from her bedroom. She calculated the odds that ninety per cent of the messages would be from Mulder, and the rest from her mom.
Surprisingly, the first message was from Melissa. "Hey Dana, let me know when you're back in town. I have a gift for you."
Without even listening to the rest of the messages, she called her sister.
"Dana, where've you been? I left that message for you a couple of days ago."
"I was on a case in Boston," she said, rolling her head from side to side, trying to work out the stiffness in her neck and shoulders. "I just got back."
"Did you catch the bad guys?"
"Well, we solved the case." The field notes at least made sense, even if Mulder objected to her leaving out the vengeful spirits he insisted were part of it.
"How's Fox?" Scully said nothing, and Melissa sighed and corrected herself. "How's Mulder?"
"He's fine. He's still in Boston." Visiting his father, she didn't add. Mulder hadn't wanted to tell her that. She recalled his hangdog expression when he told her, as if the fact that he had a father to visit would make her feel bad.
"Mom said you weren't going to San Diego for Christmas this year."
"I have a lot of catching up to do at work," she said evasively. She'd implied to her mom that she didn't have enough leave time to make the trip. "I thought you were going, though."
"Not after I found out you weren't going. I didn't think you should spend Christmas alone."
"Missy...did Mom buy it?"
"She didn't argue with me. I think she agreed with me."
"Fibber," Scully said with a smile.
"Takes one to know one," Missy said in a sing-song voice. "Are you going to be there for a while?"
"I guess." She looked in the refrigerator and realized that she was out of everything. "I have to go to the store. Why?"
"I thought I'd come over and help you decorate your tree, unless you've already done it."
Scully bit her lip. "No...Actually, I didn't think I'd do one this year."
"Well, I think you should. Come on, it'll be fun. I'll bring the wine."
"I didn't get a tree."
"Okay, I'll bring the wine and the tree. Now get to the store and get something to eat that goes with cheap red wine. I'll be there in an hour."
~*~
3. Oh Holy Night: Christmas 1995
"I'm so glad you were able to come to Mass tonight," Mrs. Scully hugged her daughter as they waited for Bill to bring the car around.
She hugged her mother back, scanning the crowd over her shoulder. She told herself that she was keeping her eye out for Bill.
The snow wasn't yet falling, but the air was heavy with the promise of it. After the close warmth of the church, outside it seemed almost unbearably cold and sharp. She drew a deep breath, feeling the ache in her nose and throat. No stars were visible; just the moon, peeking around the edge of a cloud.
How is it that you're able to go out on a limb whenever you see a light in the sky, but you're unwilling to accept the possibility of a miracle? Even when it's right in front of you.
Dana...open yourself up to extreme possibilities only when they're the truth.
Maybe they weren't meant for him to see. Maybe they were only meant for you.
"Dana, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Mom, just tired. We've been doing a lot of traveling lately."
"Are you sure that you won't come back to the house tonight?"
"I still have some wrapping to do. I promise I'll be there for roll call at six."
The car came around the corner and pulled to the curb. Scully helped her mother into the car. Tara was already in the back seat.
"Get in," Bill said. "I'll drive you to your place."
"I can get a cab."
"You are going home, aren't you?" he asked suspiciously.
"Yes, if that's any of your business."
"Bill..." Tara remonstrated softly.
"Good night," Scully said firmly. "See you in the morning." Right on cue, her cab pulled up behind her mother's car.
The apartment should have been dark. She was sure she hadn't left any lights on, and she certainly wouldn't have left the lights on the tree. Had she? The tree twinkled silently before her. The angel watched over the tree serenely.
Her answering machine twinkled, too, but she was pretty sure that its message was not peace on earth. She sighed and pushed the playback button.
"Hey Scully," Mulder's voice rasped out. "I know you're probably with your family tonight. I just, uh, wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. I'll see you in the office next week."
She started to dial his number, and then thought better of it. But she didn't erase the message.
~*~
4. In the Bleak Midwinter: Christmas 1996
"Are you going to San Diego this Christmas, Scully?"
She glanced over at Mulder. He wasn't even looking at her. Mulder was full of surprises. She had no idea that he kept track of where she went for Christmas. His question seemed casual, but she suspected that it wasn't.
"No, Bill's at sea, and Tara's spending Christmas with her family."
What are you doing for Christmas, Mulder? She'd asked every year, and every year she got the same non-answer. She wasn't going to ask this year. Instead, she added, "I'm staying home this Christmas."
"Okay. I was just wondering." He didn't look up, but she knew him pretty well.
Mulder had been on restricted duty since the Roche case. There would likely be an OPR hearing after the first of the year. Until then, he was riding the desk.
Skinner had told Mulder that he was lucky he hadn't been fired outright. Privately, Scully felt that Roche had committed suicide by cop. She suspected that Skinner thought so too, or Mulder would no doubt be out on his ass already.
She glanced over at him. He appeared to be studying his monitor, but his eyes had an unfocused look.
He really needed to get out of his head. She gave in.
"Mulder," she said softly, and he looked up almost guiltily. "I know you don't celebrate Christmas with your family, but why don't you get out of town for a while?"
He shook his head. She wasn't surprised. It was his usual response to her suggestion that he set the work aside, however briefly. She had to try, anyway.
"Please tell me that you're not going to spend Christmas working."
His silence was more telling than any denial would be.
Oh, Mulder. Time to bring out the big guns. "Did I tell you that my mom's going to be gone over Christmas this year?"
He raised his eyebrows, and smiled ever so slightly. "Ooh, Scully, are you suggesting we call everybody and have a party at her house while she's gone?"
"Not exactly." She'd really had to talk her mother into going on a cruise with some of her old friends. Mom hadn't wanted to leave Dana alone, but she'd promised that she would spend Christmas with friends too. Never mind that the "friends" she'd had in mind were favorite books and videos. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
"You shouldn't spend Christmas alone, Scully," Mulder said.
Pretty soon he'd start blaming himself for her being alone. She realized that in this case his tendency for self-blame might work in her favor.
"So it's okay for you to spend Christmas alone but not me?" she asked.
"Well, you could come help me out in the office."
"I'm not going to spend Christmas in the office, Mulder. Even for you."
His face fell, but he rallied quickly. "What are you suggesting?" He wiggled his eyebrows a little, trying to play along.
"I'll make you a deal. I'll help you out, but you have to promise to take Christmas Day off. You can come over and drink eggnog and watch old movies."
"With you?" He seemed completely taken aback by this.
Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he was reading more into it than she meant. But she'd gone this far, and she wasn't going to back down now.
"I don't want to spend Christmas alone, Mulder. I won't make you sing Christmas carols or deck the halls. I just thought it would be nice to have some company. Even yours."
"Well, when you put it that way...yeah, okay. I could come over if you want me to. I don't want you to be alone either."
Scully smiled. "Thank you, Mulder. You can bring the eggnog."
~*~
5. What Child Is This? Christmas 1997
"You don't have to go back to the house if you don't want to," Mulder said. "I'm sure they'd understand."
Understanding is the last thing they'd do, Scully thought.
Aloud, she said, "No," Her voice was hoarse and low. She felt scoured by grief, inside and out. "I should at least say goodbye."
Mulder ducked his head closer to hers. His body shielded her from the others at the back of the chapel. "Do you want me to drive you?" he asked very softly, his lips almost brushing her ear. "I can wait outside."
It rankled that Mulder was not welcomed by her family. He obviously felt it too. She was sure they'd be happier without either of them there. Bill and Tara and even Mom wanted to be unreservedly glad about Matthew's safe arrival, and that wasn't possible with her there, moping around.
"I'll do whatever you want, Scully. I'm here." He seemed to hesitate, hovering at her shoulder, waiting for her to decide.
She turned away from the casket, away from Mulder, clutching her necklace in her hand, her nails biting into her palm. There were things about her life that her family would never understand, but Mulder did.
I've never let myself get too close to people. I've avoided emotional attachment...it just seemed like a bad thing... something that wouldn't last.
Blindly, she reached her hand out. She felt Mulder's fingers enclose her own, and then his arms surround her. She buried her face into his shoulder, and let the sobs come.
...but I don't feel that anymore.
~*~
6. All I Want for Christmas: Christmas 1998
Was this a good idea? It seemed like a good idea fifteen minutes ago, when she'd walked out her front door; now she wasn't so sure.
In fact, she wasn't really sure about anything just now. She'd finished her Christmas gifts faster than she'd ever done, using stick-on bows and decorated boxes and bags instead of her usual careful and precise wrapping job. She told herself it was so she could get a few hours of sleep before her early-morning command performance at Mom's.
Instead, she found herself on the streets of Alexandria, headed to Mulder's.
She drove slowly and carefully though the roads were practically empty. There were little flurries of snow, but not enough to affect her driving. Christmas lights glimmered on houses and in windows. At this late hour, hardly a creature was stirring.
Bing Crosby's version of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" started playing, and she twisted the knob on her car stereo so hard it came off in her hand.
She was fine. Mulder was fine. The whole episode in the old house was some kind of hallucination.
Wasn't it? Of course it was. She'd checked herself over thoroughly when she got home; she had no gunshot wound. Her clothes were not torn or bloodstained. The only evidence remaining that she'd been inside the house at all was a few cobwebs in her hair.
She used her key to get into Mulder's building. "This is stupid. This is stupid." she muttered under her breath. She got into the elevator anyway and pushed the button for the fourth floor.
As she got closer to Mulder's door, she could hear his TV. She breathed a sigh of relief. She could go home now and get some sleep. She still had -- she glanced at her watch -- about two hours before she had to drive to Mom's.
Instead, she knocked on Mulder's door. After a moment, she heard the TV go off.
Mulder opened the door cautiously. His face lightened when he saw her. "I couldn't sleep," she said sheepishly. "Can I --?"
Without a word, he ushered her into his apartment. She was reassured just to see him standing there, whole and solid and not a scratch on him. He seemed as bemused as she by the events of the evening.
She had her gift to Mulder inside her coat; her nominal excuse for coming over. She was just about to pull it out when Mulder beat her to the draw, shyly proffering a gift to her.
In the unwrapping race, it was a dead heat.
"Thanks, Mulder. It's just what I always wanted." He'd given her a tube of Hershey's kisses. He knew where she kept her stash in the office and raided it from time to time.
"I noticed your supply was getting low," he said innocently.
He held his prize in both hands. He had only said, "Thanks," but she could tell by the expression on his face that the bootleg copy of "The Star Wars Holiday Special" was a hit.
"Why don't you watch it, make sure it's okay," she suggested.
He didn't need any further encouragement. He jumped up and slotted it into his VCR.
Five minutes after it started, Scully was asleep on his shoulder.
~*~
7. It Came Upon a Midnight Clear: Christmas 1999
She'd never been so glad to be called back from personal time.
"I suppose it's your partner," Bill groused.
"It's my boss, actually," Scully replied coolly. "He's calling Mulder back, too."
"What is it, aliens landing on the White House lawn?"
She simply stared through him the way she used to when they were kids. It infuriated him then, and it did now.
Mom told them both to quit it and Tara rolled her eyes at Bill.
"Do you need a ride to the airport?" Bill asked grudgingly.
"No thanks, I've called for the shuttle," she said. "It'll be here soon."
"It must be something important, huh?" Tara asked.
"I don't have any of the details. I couldn't divulge them if I did."
"We probably wouldn't want to hear the gory details anyway," her mom said with a shaky laugh.
"Don't worry, Mom, I'll be fine. Tara, can I put Matty down for his nap?"
Tara willingly let her take Matthew upstairs to the nursery.
Scully climbed the stairs with her nephew in her arms, humming softly under her breath. He was two years old, but he still liked to be carried, especially by his Auntie Dana.
Bill was of the opinion that Matthew was ready for a real bed, but he'd had to compromise with Tara on a modified cot with safety bars. Scully lowered the side of the cot and let Matthew climb into bed himself.
"Do you want a story?" she asked.
Matthew yawned. "Sleepy, Aunt Dana," he said. He was such a good boy. Tara said that she waited daily for him to start shouting "NO!" to everything, but for now he minded pretty well.
"How about a song?" she teased.
"Don't sing, Auntie Dana!" he crowed, making her laugh. Last year, she'd tried to sing him to sleep with "Joy to the World" but he'd cried and cried. It was now a family joke, and Matty was in on it.
"You goin' home, Aunt Dana?" Matty asked.
"Yes, sweetie," she said. "But I'll come back and see you soon."
"'Kay," he said matter-of-factly. "Night-night." He gave her a sweet kiss, and then he rolled over and folded his hands under his cheek.
When she looked at Matthew, she knew how the Grinch felt when his heart expanded.
She sat on the edge of the bed, watching his breathing slow into slumber.
"Matty," she whispered, "some day you might have a little sister or maybe -- maybe a cousin. You'll be nice to her, won't you?"
Being around Matthew had reawakened her desire to have a child. She'd felt it last year, seeing Tara with Matthew during Christmas at her mom's. If she could have found a plausible reason to skip Christmas in San Diego this year, she would have, knowing that it would only create yearnings in her again.
She gave Matthew a final kiss and stood up. Her mother was standing in the doorway.
Without a word, Scully passed her and went out into the hallway. She knew what was coming.
"Dana honey, I wish you wouldn't let Bill get to you so."
"He doesn't. I just don't see any reason why I should put up with his trying to boss me around."
"He can't help it. He feels like he has to hold the family together."
"That's not his responsibility." Sometimes, Scully thought, it's better when we don't see each other. She didn't mention Charlie. He kept in touch, but he nearly always had an excuse for not coming for Christmas.
"I know, Honey. I just want everyone to get along. When I'm gone..."
Scully hated it when her mother played the guilt card.
"I know, Mom," she said. What she left unspoken was that once Ahab had died, everything had changed. Bill couldn't take his place, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how hard he tried. But she couldn't say that out loud, especially not to her mother.
She hugged her close. "I love you, Mom," she said. "I love Bill too, and I'm not running away from the family."
Everyone assumed that she was married to her career. No one considered that she might want a life outside of work. She'd given it a lot of thought lately, and had even expressed those thoughts to Mulder. He hadn't gone screaming into the night, although his view of what a "normal life" constituted was somewhat different from her family's.
Hers was different too. She'd only recently begun to realize that. Now she needed to do something about it.
~*~
8. Do You Hear What I Hear? Christmas 2000
Clump, clump. Her shoes dropped on the carpet and she lifted first one foot, then the other, to massage her insteps. She pressed her hand against the small of her back as she trudged to the bedroom.
The mirror in her bedroom reflected essentially the same image it had for the past several years. Too thin, deep shadows under her eyes. Her belly was hardly showing. And yet she had all these symptoms: swelling feet and ankles, backaches and exhaustion. The doctor had given her a stern warning about taking better care of herself.
Skinner had told her in no uncertain terms that she wasn't to go out in the field without a full clearance from her doctor. He'd covered for her with Doggett, going out on calls with her nominal partner himself.
She changed into her sweats and came back out to the living room. As usual, the light on the answering machine was blinking frantically. Unfortunately, she knew the one message she wanted to hear wouldn't be there.
The first two messages were from Agent Doggett, spoken in very level tones, but obviously questioning where she was. The next was from Skinner, letting her know he had taken care of Doggett, and to concentrate on getting better.
Next was her mom, wanting to know if she would be there on Christmas Eve for church, or was she just coming in the morning?
Her mom again, reminding her that Charlie and Sarah would be staying, and they'd have her old room. If she was staying over, would she mind sleeping on the sofa?
Would Mom mind if she decided not to come at all? Could she call in sick to her own family?
At some point she'd have to tell Mom about the baby, but Christmas didn't seem like the right time.
A third message from her mom, asking if it was too much trouble to get that spumoni that everyone liked so much. And that Sarah, Charlie's wife, was lactose-intolerant, could she get something she could have as well?
She didn't want to answer questions from the family. If she waited until after Christmas to tell Mom, Mom would take care of telling everyone else. It was cowardly, but although she could face up to liver-eating mutants and batmen, she didn't think she had the strength to defend herself against Bill and his judgmental attitude right now.
The next message was another from Agent Doggett, apologizing for calling her before, and asking her to disregard his previous messages. An awkward pause, and then he added, "I hope you're feeling better."
Skinner seemed to think that John Doggett was on the up-and-up, but did he really know? What hold did Kersh have over Doggett? Would he toe the "company line" or would he follow his instincts?
Doggett was a good agent, but she wasn't sure that's what she needed. If he was just a good agent without an open mind, he was definitely not what she needed.
Was this how Mulder had seen her all those years ago? He'd called her a spy to her face, accused her of taking little notes to report on him. He didn't seem to like her; he certainly didn't trust her. But on their first case together, he began to warm to her. Trust wasn't built in a day, but she'd proved herself to Mulder. Just as Mulder had proved himself to her.
She didn't have that kind of time now. Every day, every minute that Mulder was missing made it that much more likely that they wouldn't find him. If she didn't look for him, who would?
There was a little silence at the beginning of the next message, and her breath caught in her throat. Then Frohike's raspy voice said, "Greetings of the season, Agent Scully. We just wanted to let you know that we're on the case, but there's nothing new to report."
She smiled sadly. The Gunmen might be her only hope if the FBI decided that Mulder's case was no longer a priority. They'd never stopped looking, and they never would.
Neither would she, but she needed all the allies she could get. She sat down with a sigh and dialed her mother's number.
~*~
9. O Bambino: Christmas 2001
"Smile for the camera, William!" The photographer jiggled his favorite stuffed toy, but William was having none of it. He sat quietly in Margaret Scully's lap with an expression so much like Mulder's during one of Skinner's lectures Scully didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
How did she let her mother talk her into this?
"He's a very serious baby," the photographer said.
It was on the tip of Scully's tongue to contradict her. The truth was William was suspicious of strangers. He didn't smile for just anyone.
He smiled for her. He had many different kinds of smiles, and they all reminded her of Mulder.
"Dana, maybe he'll smile for you. Come on, sit with us. Be in the picture. Three generations of Scullys?" her mother coaxed.
She shook her head. "No, Mom, I think it should be just you and William." They'd already had this argument; why was she bringing it up again? The photographer looked a little askance.
She'd always had to walk a tightrope with her mother between full disclosure and need-to-know. Should she tell her everything, even though her mother wouldn't believe most of it and the things she did would scare her half to death? Or tell her nothing, and let her draw her own wrong conclusions?
"His father is away," her mother said to the photographer in explanation. "Dana doesn't want to take a picture without him in it too."
The photographer smiled her professional smile. "I know it must be hard. Was he deployed recently?"
Scully shot a warning look at her mother and said, "I'd rather not talk about it."
"Well, maybe when he comes back you can come in for your own family portrait," the photographer suggested. "In the meantime, let's see if we can get this little guy to smile." Unlike her mother, she seemed to know when to quit.
Scully stood at the photographer's shoulder. William seemed to track her movements. She held up his Yankees bear and said, "William, look what Momma's got."
William looked up and laughed, his mouth open in a broad, gummy smile, and the photographer said, "Got it!"
Scully turned away so that no one could see the tears in her eyes.
~*~
Continued in Part 2