=====================
By sam3987562@aol.com
=====================
This is my first X-Files story, so please don't flame me! I would like
some comments, though.
Mulder and Scully: The Early Years
(Author's note: Yes, I realize M & S didn't know each other when they were
kids. Hey, the Muppets probably didn't either. Call it poetic license.)
"He's not coming, Fox," Dana said authoritatively, casting a pitying
glance at her friend. "He doesn't exist."
"How do you know?"
"Fox, it's just a story parents make up for kids. We're in sixth
grade. Nobody believes that stuff anymore."
"I do."
"Didn't your parents tell you anything? They're the ones who fill the
stockings and wrap the presents and eat the cookies we leave out. When I
was little I used to wait, too, but all I saw was my parents."
"Maybe he doesn't want to come to your house because he's afraid your
brothers will shoot his reindeer with their BB guns."
Dana sighed and was silent. This argument could go on all night. Fox
had convinced her to wait with him on Christmas Eve because he wanted to
prove to her that he wasn't only a silly baby. But it was past midnight
and they hadn't seen anything, not even Fox's parents. Dana was tired and
cramped from hiding behind the chair all night. She tried to stretch her
legs out and felt thousands of tiny needles stab her all over. She rubbed
her legs halfheartedly to make them wake up.
"I'm hungry," Dana murmured, more to herself than Fox. She stood up on
wobbly legs and walked over to the plate of cookies that Fox and his
sister Samantha had set out earlier. She started to take one.
"Stop!" Fox hissed. Those aren't for us."
"Fox..." Dana began warningly, but reluctantly crouched back down
behind the chair.
"Chocolate chip is his favorite," added Fox.
"It's also your dad's," Dana pointed out. "Look, Fox, it's Christmas
Eve." She checked the clock on the mantel and corrected herself.
"Christmas Day. And I'm tired. We've been sitting here all night. I
want to get into my nice, warm bed in my nice, warm house and fall asleep.
I'm sorry, Fox, but I'm going home." Dana stood up and headed for the
hall closet to retrieve her jacket. Fox followed her.
"Wait, Dana. He's got a lot of houses to get to in just one night.
He'll come later. I know it!"
Dana struggled into her bright pink coat. "Fox, I told you. I'm
tired. And he's not coming. Go to bed, okay?"
"You can go home if you want, Dana, but I'm waiting right here. And
you'll be sorry tomorrow when I tell you all about it!"
"I won't believe you, Fox, because I know that he doesn't exist."
"That's why I'll have pictures!" He brandished his mother's Polaroid
camera.
Dana shook her head and opened the Mulders' front door. "Goodnight,
Fox," she whispered and stepped outside, shutting the door soflty behind
her. Fox ran to the window and watched his friend trudge through the thin
coat of snow that covered the lawn separating his house from the Scullys'.
She opened her door, and before she went inside, she looked back and
waved. Fox didn't wave back. Instead, he turned away from the window and
returned to his post behind the chair.
A few flakes of ash drifted down from the chimney to rest on the logs
Mr. and Mrs. Mulder kept there for effect. They hadn't lit a fire in
years. Fox waited, peeking around the edge of the chair, not daring to
move or even to breathe.
The boots appeared first, black and covered with ashes that continued
to sprinkle across the logs in the fireplace. Fox saw red trousers,
followed by a wide belt to hold in a round stomach, a red woolen shirt,
and then the boots alighted on the ground and a little man stepped out of
the fireplace. He had a long white beard and a bald head covered with a
red hat. A bell was attached to the tip of the hat, and it tinkled softly
as the man turned towards Fox and Samantha's stockings.
Shakily, Fox stood up, clutching his camera. The floor creaked under
him, and the little man turned around. Fox gasped and snapped a picture
before the little man could turn around again. The man blinked from the
flash and then laughed gently. "Proof is in the eye of the beholder," he
said cryptically, then returned to his task. He drew small packages from
his sleeves, where before it seemed there had been nothing there, and
dropped them, one by one, into the stockings. Then he stepped back into
the fireplace, winked at Fox, and floated up the chimney.
Fox felt the camera humming in his hand, and looked down in awe and
anticipation as the blank photograph scrolled out into his hand. Won't
Dana be amazed tomorrow when she sees this! he thought. He watched as the
blankness slowly took fuzzy shape. The colors rose through the
photographic fog to form the familiar shapes of his living room: the tree,
lit with colorful lights; the dark window, with lights from the tree and
the camera's flash reflected in it; the flat stockings, not yet stuffed
with packages from the little man's magical sleeves; the clean unused
fireplace with its decorative logs. The room was empty.
(
geocities.com/area51/portal/1720) (
geocities.com/area51/portal) (
geocities.com/area51)