From: "C. Charlotte" 
Date: 28 Nov 2000 23:11:33 GMT
Subject: *NEW* Silent Night (1/?)

Silent Night
By C. Charlotte
Mulder6758@aol.com
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully and all other regularly appearing
characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and
FOX. I'm just borrowing them to weave my twisted little web.
Distribution: Anywhere, everywhere and Gossamer. Just 
keep my name and email address attached and drop me a
line so I know where to visit.
Rating: PG-PG13
Keywords: Christmas story, slight MSR (UST)
Spoilers: none
Summary: Scully is involved in a Christmas car accident.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 


Office of Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully
Hoover Building
Washington D.C.
December 18, 2000


Dana Scully watched one particularly large snowflake trace its way to
the ground.  Between trees, around a bush, and finally settling onto
one of the benches beside the Hoover Building.

From her corner in the subterranean office, she stared up at the
snowstorm as it gathered force and speed.

The computer screen cast an eerie glow over her features,
highlighting cheekbones and the curve of her nose in a translucent,
yellow light.

D.C. hadn't had a snowstorm this intense in at least ten years.  She
couldn't remember ever experiencing one with this type of ferocity
while she was growing up in Maryland.

She sighed and pressed her reading glasses back up against her nose,
wondering idly why she was here.  Mulder had called an hour or two
earlier, sounding apologetic and angry that he couldn't make it to
work.

"Sorry, Scully.  The roads are blocked and I've got no way out.  I
don't even know where to start looking for my car in this mess...."

She glanced at her watch as a plan began to formulate in her mind.  If
she left once she had finished this expense report, she'd be home by
noon at the very latest...time enough to watch some television and eat
some food other than the imitation nutrition that the cafeteria passed
off.

With a smile turning up the corners of her mouth, she focused all her
energies back on the current expense item that she was trying to
explain off. 

**Think.** she ordered herself, **How do you explain losing both your
car and cell phones after your partner accidentally drives into a
force field?**

"Don't bother." she murmured with a mischievous grin, as she flipped
the computer monitor off and grabbed her coat.  She wrapped it tightly
around her body before sojourning into the tumultuous weather,
although her preparations were scattered as the icy wind dislodged her
coat from her body regardless.   
She grabbed the material with both hands and pulled it back against
her as she hurried to her car, mentally cursing herself for parking so
far away from the doors.

She continued to battle against the elements once she had gotten
herself into the driver's seat with the door firmly shut.  The leather
had the ambient temperature of Antarctica.  She fumbled with the
heater and pushed the dial up as far as it would go.

The car idled for a few moments while the interior warmed.  Scully
spent that time imagining hot chocolate and the book she had left on
her bed this morning.  If she added a fire in the fireplace, she
nearly forgot the piercing cold currently settling around her in a
thick blanket.

Shifting the car into `drive', she pulled out of the FBI parking
complex and onto the ramp for the Beltway.  The roads were slick and
iced over in more places than not, and Scully repeatedly fought for
control over the car.  The snow blurring the side mirrors and
windshield didn't exactly help her out any.

Squinting, Scully leaned forward and brushed the palm of her hand
against the windshield, scowling when her breath clouded the clean bit
of glass she had just procured.

She decreased her speed, just to be on the safe side.  The patches of
ice were becoming larger and more commonplace, and the snow continued
to rain down in undulating sheets of pearly white. 

"Damn." she whispered, leaning forward to peer through the thin
Plexiglas at what appeared to be streaks of light, or an effect of the
glittering snow.

She decided at the last possible moment that the snow wasn't to blame,
and rather, she was staring at two cars nose to nose.   She pulled on
the steering wheel hard, yanking the car to the left and
overcompensating, swung back to the right.  

A scream of rending metal permeated through her brain and Scully
threw her hands up in front of her face as the two cars rushed up to
her own.  Her last conscious thought was snuffed out as the blackness
rose up to meet her.


Unknown Location
December 18, 2000

A white haze.  Snow.  Something about snow and ice, something utterly
lost to her mind.  She remembered light and white, and that was all. 

She forced her eyes to open and tried to blink through the fuzz in the
back of her corneas.  More white.  **Must be some type of theme going
on.** she thought wryly to herself.  

It took several more minutes for her vision to clear, though what she
saw seemed to be far from any of the reaches of reality.  She was no
longer in her car, hell-it seemed she was no longer in D.C.

She wasn't sure what bothered her more.  The fact that everything was
shimmering slightly, as though being put on hold, or the fact that
the person in front of her was slightly translucent.

The figure glided forward, robes rustling as whoever it was eased to a
stop beside her.  A slim hand, encased in a glove the color of snow,
appeared from beneath the robes to help Scully to her feet.  She
scrambled up quickly, shying away from the mysterious person.

It was then that she suddenly noticed that she was in the middle of a
snowstorm similar to the one she had just left.  Only she didn't have
a single flake of snow on her.  It seemed to be falling *around* her,
leaving a circular patch of grassy ground about five feet in
diameter.

The robed individual beside her also seemed to share the same
phenomenon.  The dark, maroon robes pushed the snow back as the
person, or thing, wearing them moved around.

Scully inched away again and finally the person inside the winter
robes seemed to get the point.  The hood was pushed back, revealing a
young, pretty woman with silvery-gold hair that curled halfway down
her back.  Her eyes were large and rimmed with thick lashes, a dark
liquid brown that sparkled merrily.

Scully hazarded a step forward, taking a few more when she realized
that the girl was no immediate threat to her.  She looked around her,
cataloguing the fact that the snow had yet to touch her.  She didn't
have to worry about this phantom person when snow couldn't touch her. 
It was scientifically impossible, and therefore brought on by a dream.
 

The girl grasped her hand, smiling comfortingly as Scully jumped at
the sudden contact.  Her eyes widened as a thread of light moved
between their arms, and the girl continued to smile her eerily cool
smile.  

A flash of light later, and they were in an entirely new setting.  The
snow had dissipated, walls appeared around them, forming themselves
into the shape of a modest home.  Coffee simmered on the stove,
bubbling and popping with a life of its own, and the unmistakable
aroma of sugar cookies wafted through the air.  

The girl had shed her robes, draping them over the back of a chair. 
She turned to face Scully, motioning with her hand for her to sit
down.  She did so, staring at the dress that the younger woman wore. 
Periwinkle blue, and interwoven with delicate laces of silver and
bronze.  It fit her waist, flowed past her feet, and settled with a
soft rustle to the floor.

The dress, like the person, was nearly see-through.  It was like
looking through a particularly thick mirage.  Light danced around the
edges of the girl, playing soft licks of orange and yellow across her
skin and the blue dress.

She looked like something out a myth when you combined the fairy tale
dress with the silvery-gold hair that currently fell loose, curling
around her shoulders and down to her back.  

Words seemed to be stuck in her throat, so Scully just stared for a
few minutes.  She processed their location, processed the young woman,
and processed the fact that she didn't have a damn clue what was going
on.


Emergency Room
Georgetown Memorial Hospital
Washington D.C.
December 18, 2000


"I'm looking for my partner."  Fox Mulder nervously shifted in front
of the Admit desk.  He hated hospitals.  It seemed like every time he
crossed over the threshold of one that everyone was out to get him. 
Needles flew out from hidden pockets and rubber gloves got snapped on
in preparation for other, less enjoyable, procedures.

He'd much rather just avoid them all together.  And he would have, if
it wasn't for the fact that he had received a call from Georgetown
Memorial informing him that Scully had been in a car accident.

"What's her name?" a short, plump nurse asked from behind the desk as
she balanced a stack of charts in one hand and Christmas decorations
in the other.  Singing Christmas trees dangled from her ears and she
had a cheap, colorful necklace of Christmas tree light bulbs hung
round her neck.  Mulder had to stop from saying anything overly cruel.
 The cheerful jewelry seemed so *crude* when he had no idea how
seriously injured his partner was.

"Dana Scully." he mumbled, playing with a string of tinsel that lined
the desk.  The color flaked off, leaving red and green streaks across
his hand and fingers.  "She was in a car accident.  About 5'2, red
hair, FBI agent."

She flipped through her charts rapidly, humming along to a Christmas
tune that Mulder didn't care to place a name to.  He was more worried
about other issues than playing `Name That Christmas Song'.  "She was
in an MVA?"

"Excuse me?"

"She was involved in a car accident?"

"Yes." Mulder nodded, hating the words even as the nurse spoke them. 
Car accident.  God, that could mean anything from a scratch to fatal
internal injuries.

"She's been taken to surgery."  Mulder's heart jumped into his throat
at the nurse's words and he visibly fought to hold back the emotions
that were simmering just below the surface.

"Can  I wait somewhere for her?"

"Sure." the nurse nodded, coming around the desk and placing a firm
hand on his arm.  "I'll take you to her room."  She steered him toward
the elevator, hitting the button for the tenth floor.  "You can wait
there."


Unknown Location
December 18, 2000


"So you're telling me that you're some type of ghost?" Scully asked,
narrowing her eyes at the young woman.  "The ghost of Christmas
past?"

"Yep." she answered in a exuberant voice, sipping the coffee she had
just made.  Her company though, Scully, didn't seem to be interested
in eating, and among other things, was having a hard time accepting
what she was.  She was a ghost.  The ghost of Christmas Past to be
exact.  She sighed quickly, wondering why she couldn't have gotten
this woman's partner instead.  He would have had no problem believing
in her...

But he hadn't been the one in the accident and she had to settle for
what she got.  "Here, I'll make it simple for you.  I'm a ghost, I'm
dead.  You were in a car accident, and now you're seeing me.  It's
Christmas time and I just happen to be the Ghost of Christmas Past."

"No." Scully said, shaking her head stubbornly.  "The Ghost of
Christmas Past is a character out of `A Christmas Carol'.  Not an
actual, dead person who now floats around as a ghost."

"Untrue," the young woman countered.  "you think one man can be that
creative?  Of course not.  Charles Dickens encountered us in much the
same way you are.  We weren't his *characters*.  We were his *muse*."

"So...so I'm not dead?" Scully asked timidly, leaning back in her
chair. 

"You're not dead." the other woman said simply, sipping her coffee as
she tapped her nails against the table.  "Your body isn't physically
here.  This is in your mind, an extension of a dream if you will."

"So I'm dreaming?"

"No.  You're not dreaming.  You're just not physically present." 

The woman held back a laugh at the vexed look on Scully's face.  She
was trying so hard to make sense of the situation when, in all
reality, she didn't need to.  "Don't think about it so much.  I am
what I am.  Even if that is a ghost."

"But don't you usually appear when the person is depressed or-or
*something?*  That's what happened in the book." 

The Ghost of Christmas Past shrugged and adjusted the straps of her
dress, blinking her eyes to free the hair that was currently clouding
her vision.  She brought a hand up and brushed the strands aside
impatiently.  "I wouldn't worry myself with the psychology behind the
events.  The fact remains that you're here and I've got things to show
you."


Room 1013
Georgetown Memorial Hospital
Washington D.C.
December 18, 2000 
Mulder remained curled in the chair long after visiting hours had
ended.  He'd had several run-ins with nurses, though eventually they
got the point and ceased to bother him.

From his vantage point he could see the whole room as well as all the
people that passed in the hall.  Scully remained motionless,
unconscious, and so to keep himself occupied he had taken to counting
the number of medical personnel and visitors that passed by room
1013.

If he didn't have something to do he would surely go insane.  For the
first few hours he had simply stared at his partner, memorizing her
injuries, the bright white cast that housed her broken wrist and the
bruise forming along her cheekbone and left eye.  

He fingered a strand of her hair absently, smoothing it down against
the starched pillowcase.  He worked a knot out with his fingers
gently, knowing unconsciously that she wouldn't want to wake with her
hair a mess.

He watched another nurse walk by, flanked by two doctors in dirtied
white coats.  His eyes closed briefly, light flickering across the
back of his eyelids
in erratic patterns.  He opened them again when he heard sound, hoping
his partner had awakened.  Instead he found a youngish nurse standing
in the doorway, cradling a bundle of blankets in her arms.  He could
just barely see a small fist flailing and a tuft of gold-blond hair
from beneath the layers of blanket.  

"I think you have the wrong room." he murmured softly, his hand
inching back toward Scully's.

"No." the nurse answered in a chipper voice.  "I have the right room. 
The annoyed nurse at the front desk pointed me in your general
direction.  We've decided that if you're going to badger us constantly
you can help out around the hospital."

He blinked at her, not quite comprehending what she wanted him to do
until she walked over and placed the squirming bundle in his arms. 
"Wait a minute." he stammered.  "I don't know anything about children,
let alone young babies."

She fixed his arms without words, running a finger over the skin of
the child he was holding.  "We're not asking you to perform surgery. 
All we need is for you to hold the baby, talk to him, keep him
company.  Young children need companionship." 

"Isn't that what a mother's for?"

She frowned at him, curling a piece of the silky blond hair around
her finger absently.  "His mom and dad were killed.  Freak accident on
the maternity ward.  He hasn't got any close family and he's too young
to be put into the adoption system.  The hospital is holding onto him
until he's a bit older."

Mulder nodded, pushing the blankets aside gently to reveal a small,
bright eyed child.  Clear blue eyes stared back at him, and for a
moment he imagined that this could be a child of Scully's one day. 
"So I just hold him?"

She nodded, apparently happy with his acceptance of the task.  "I'll
show you how to feed him as well.  And at the very least Mr. Mulder,
you'll have someone to keep you company."


END OF PART ONE

(2/?)

Unknown Location
December 19, 2000


Scully stared through the pane of glass, her fingers clutching tightly
against the frost lined windowsill.  Presents lay wrapped beneath a
large and exquisitely beautiful Blue Spruce tree.  From her vantage
point she could just make out the heads of two boys and a little girl,
not one of them older than ten years.  

It was the perfect Christmas morning scene, complete with the two
beaming parents lounging on the overstuffed couch as their children
eagerly ripped apart the wrapping concealing long awaited gifts.  

The problem lay in the fact that she was nowhere to be found, and she
should have been there.  She knew this Christmas.  This would be the
year that she and Melissa received matching dresses and the boys would
steal them as a practical joke.  

She forced her hands to loosen and turned around to face the Ghost. 
"Where am I?" she demanded.

The other woman just stared back at her, a slight smile playing upon
her lips.  "You know where you are."

"You're saying that this is my sister's and brothers' childhood, but
that I don't exist."  Scully's eyes flickered as she spoke her
suspicions and she glanced through the window again, hoping that maybe
her younger self had entered the room while she had been talking to
the Ghost of Christmas Past.  It was like a slap in the face, the way
her family could be so happy when she didn't exist in their world.

She forced herself to remember that in this dimension, she had never
existed.  They had never known her.  They couldn't miss someone they
had never met.  Despite that, the ache still simmered beneath her skin
and she gripped the windowsill again.

"I've seen enough." she murmured through grit teeth.  "I want to go
home."

The Ghost cast her eyes in Scully's direction, their color darkened
significantly with sadness.  "You are home."


Room 1013
Georgetown Memorial Hospital
Washington D.C.
December 19, 2000


The baby was turning out to be a godsend.  Mulder had been by
Scully's bedside for nearly twenty four hours, holding her hand,
talking, murmuring to her of the all the new things he was learning
about children.  She had yet to regain consciousness.

He was incredibly thankful to whatever nurse had singled him out for
baby-sitting duty.  The baby's constant babbles, and occasional
squalls of crying, kept him busy, his mind off of darker
possibilities.    

The little guy was beginning to grow on him, and Mulder half
suspected that the baby was glad for the attention.  The way he
cuddled up in his arms made him wonder if this child had ever been
held before now.

He sighed softly, shifting the bundle of blankets to his other arm
while he glanced down at his partner.  In a short amount of time, the
bruise around her eye had darkened to almost black and Mulder could
see the outlines of purple that marked a broken cheekbone.  

She looked so defeated and he instantly reached a hand out, cradling
one of her own.  "I'm here, Scully." he murmured, "Do your part of the
deal and wake up for me."  His voice broke and he quickly suppressed
the tears in the back of his throat.  "Please." 

The baby let out a soft cry, seemingly in response to Mulder's
feelings, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek, choking back the
tears that pushed steadily forward.

`Stop it.' he willed himself and dropped his head in the direction of
the whimpering infant in his arms.  He wagged his finger in front of
the little boy, who grabbed on nearly immediately, his cries dying.

Mulder blinked the last of the tears back rapidly, a small smile
appearing delicately on his lips.  He'd never realized it before now,
but little children fascinated and amazed him.  He traced the thin
line of a vein across the little boy's wrist and shifted the weight in
his arms, snuggling the tiny bundle closer to his body.

The trick was just to believe that everything would be fine.


Unknown Location
December 19, 2000


Scully stayed in the yard for an additional half hour, trying to
process the images before her.  She finally moved away when the cold
began to seep into her.

"It's time for your transfer." the girl murmured, in the floating
voice that Scully was just beginning to get used to.  She turned
around, intent on asking the girl what she meant by her `transfer',
only to find that the girl was gone.

Her place was instead inhabited by a man, about middle age.  His skin
was a dark bronze, his lips cherry red, his eyes an almost disturbing,
opalescent green.  His hair was close cropped, sprinkled with flecks
of grey and kept neatly in place.  

Her lips pursed as she took in her new companion's image, and the man
smiled a robust smile, full of warmth that Scully didn't think could
possibly exude from a ghost.  

But then again, she didn't think it was possible for ghosts to walk
around in what looked suspiciously like an Armani suit and trenchcoat.
 He looked incredibly like an ad for the latest issue for GQ.

"Let me guess....the Ghost Of Christmas Present?"

"You're a smart one." he said with a smile, walking forward until he
was perhaps a foot from her.  She could feel his breath puffing
lightly against her cheek, his hands ruffling against the fabric of
his coat. Very unghostlike, she concluded.  "I *am* the Ghost Of
Christmas Present, though I prefer the name James.  `Ghost' sounds
so...final."

At least he had personality.  It was more than she could say for the
wraith of Christmas Past.  

"Can we hurry this up?  At some point I'd like to get back to real
life." she muttered, more angrily than she really intended to be.  She
was just so tired of living through situations that were unimaginable
to her.  And she had a feeling it was only going to get worse...


Room 1013
Georgetown Memorial Hospital
Washington D.C.
December 19, 2000


Naming him probably wasn't the best idea.  But when it came time to
leave, Mulder knew he'd have a hard time saying goodbye as it was.  
What more damage could it do to at least give the child a name?

With a slight smile he lifted the bottle, positioning the rubber teat
within easy reaching distance of Joseph's mouth.  The name wasn't one
he'd always liked.  In fact, he didn't think that before now he really
liked it at all.

But it seemed like a good Catholic name, something from the Bible,
something that Scully might have named a child had she been given the
chance to ever have one.

As he fed Joseph, he thought back to their first meeting, their first
case, how naive they both had been.  He doubted either of them could
ever  have imagined the way things would turn out nearly eight years
later. Even in his wildest dreams he hadn't imagined the partnership
he shared with  the woman now silent in her hospital bed, the one
friend who had remained true to him, still remained true.

He patted the child on the back, waiting for the telltale gurgling
sounds, as he completed his flashback through the history he had with
Scully.  He pulled Joseph away from his face, smiling slightly at the
drooping eyes of the child.  Nestling the baby against him, he patted
the small, warm back and his own eyes slipped shut, struggling open
once or twice more before finally giving in and sliding closed once
again. 


Unknown Location
December 19, 2000


And she thought being forgotten by her family was bad.  Her newest
exploration into the land of `living ghosts' had left her shaken down
to  the depths of her soul. 

She trembled in the slight wind, clutching tightly at the tree bark to
her left as though it were her only life support.  At the moment it
was all she had. She couldn't trust herself right now, her perception
was construed, and she certainly didn't trust the man beside her.  He
had shown her this.

Normally she would have run to Mulder, but not now.  Not when she was
standing where she was, tearing slowly making their way past her
lashes and onto her cheeks, sliding hotly down her skin to rest in the
partition between neck and shoulder.

How could she go to Mulder when she was standing in front of his
grave? She choked back a small whimper, reaching a shaking hand
forward to brush her fingers over the carefully formed letters.

F O X   W I L L I A M   M U L D E R

Born October 13.  Died December 18, the day this whole damn mess
began. What she needed to do was get home.  If she could get back to
where she belonged, nothing in her dreams would actually occur.  Her
family would know her and Mulder would be alive and healthy.  Or at
least healthy until his next run in with a supernatural monster...

"I need to get home." she finally murmured in the steadiest voice she
could muster.  Home.  A place with the FBI, where she could see
Mulder, get lectured by Skinner and know that every woman in the
secretarial pool hated her because of the closeness she had with her
partner.

"You can't go home until you finish up with me and one other one of
my colleagues."

"The Ghost of Christmas Future?"

"That's how the game works.  I can't bend the rules for you.  It's a
matter of waiting out the consequences."

E N D   O F   P A R T   2 
------

(3/3)

Room 1013
Georgetown Memorial Hospital
Washington D.C.
December 24, 2000


The wind howled ferociously across the plain, spinning its web and
throwing snow particles furiously into the air. It screamed, whipped
over the land like a spirit bent on revenge.

The sky had darkened, the weather ominously plotting its course of
mass destruction as dark grey clouds filed across the horizon,
violently streaking the heavens.

Fox Mulder sat beneath the artificial lighting of the hospital room,
wondering if the gods were out to test his patience and sanity.  He
sighed and rubbed his cheek absently, shifting the sleeping Joseph in
his arms.

Mulder was finding it harder to sleep.  Each time he slipped off, he
was jolted awake by nightmares that left him fighting for breath, his
eyes wide with terror.  After the forth or fifth time he'd finally
given up on sleep and had resigned himself to watching the gathering
storm and waiting for his partner to wake.

Her doctors had become increasingly hopeful as her breathing
strengthened and her color improved.  She had since been removed from
the ventilator, and cleared of most signs of brain damage though they
wouldn't be exactly sure until she was conscious.

But in that fact was the snag.  Despite the fact her respirations were
longer, pulled in more air, despite the fact her pulse ox was steadily
increasing, regardless of the fact that her skin had nearly regained
its normal tone-she still had not woken up.

It was only a matter of time, he knew this, but after waiting so long
he didn't know how much more he could stand.  All he wanted now was
for Scully to wake up.  That was all he had ever wanted.

It was all he had prayed for from the start.



Unknown Location
December 24, 2000


The last rays of sunlight had disappeared.  The inky blackness of
night had descended upon her nightmare.  And still she remained
waiting for the Ghost of Christmas Future.  Scully had become so
desperate to return to her life that every time she closed her eyes,
images from various cases, various years with Mulder, would flood her
mind's eye.

She was willing to even live the Flukeman case once more.  If she
could get her life back.  She missed the halls of the Hoover Building,
the comforting warmth of her apartment, and Mulder's wry humor and
lopsided grin. 

Her eyes floated up, scanned over the branches of snow-coated trees,
continued to look up past the smoky mist that filled the horizon and
to the clouds. 

*Please God.* she prayed. *I don't want to see more.* 

She wanted to go home.  She sniffled, wiped a shaking hand across her
cheek to catch the crystalline tears that had begun to form and were
finally beginning to drop.  She caught one on the end of her finger,
lifted it to the light, and watched the tiny droplet of water fall
into the snow.

She sighed lightly.  Shut her eyes.  As she did so, I shadow shifted
and darkness cast itself across the area in which she was sitting. 
Tentavely she opened her eyes, glanced up and was on her feet in an
instant.  The Ghost of Christmas Future.  Tall, black, with ice-blue
eyes that glowed unnaturally. 

"You're-you're the Ghost of Christmas Future?" Scully stumbled over
her words.

She waited for a reply, not at all surprised when one did not come. 
She sighed for the second time and waited.

Gradually, slowly, the silent figure lifted one arm and pointed in a
southern direction.  She looked, though did not move.  The figure
continued to point until at last she uprooted her feet and began to
walk.

Nervous, she stumbled over snow mounds, falling to her knees and
cursing at the sudden wetness that seeped into her bones and skin. 
Her head had begun to hurt, reeling with white light and bright
colors.  She climbed to her feet and continued to walk forward,
perhaps for five more minutes before the wraith finally stopped and
hovered, black robes shifting in a sudden wind.

The wind whirled around her, whipping her hair up as she pulled it
away from her eyes.  She blinking, clearing her snow-hazed vision.  A
sight materialized before her, a dark room.

She glanced around, her eyes finally settling on a small, frail woman
seated in an arm chair.  With a shock, Scully realized that the small
lady was her mother.  Only her natural aura of happiness had faded
into something only to be described as hopelessness.

Scully turned, angrily searching the room for any sign of the terror
that had brought her to such an evil place.  Finding none, she turned
back to her mother.  She watched her for a few moments before creeping
forward to get a closer look at the book within her hands.

It was a Bible, the pages tattered and beginning to crumble.  She
looked closely at the front page, at the carefully printed words on
each line.

Her father's name.  Melissa's name.  Both of her brothers' name.  Each
line listed a name, a birth date and, finally, a death date.  And
suddenly Scully realized why her mother was so disparaged.

She was alone.  Just as Scully was.  And just as she always would be
until she one day allowed the people closest to her into her heart.



Room 1013
Georgetown Memorial Hospital
Washington D.C.
December 25, 2000


Mulder was smiling.  

The baby was sleeping.

And Scully was awake, tired and in pain, but awake.

Happily, he ran his thumb over the back of her hand, returning the
weak smile she managed to throw in his direction.  "Do you realize you
much you managed to scare me?" he asked quietly, handing her a glass
of water.

She sipped slowly, waiting until she trusted her voice.  "I'm sorry."
she finally managed, her vocal cords hoarse with the strain of the
last few days.

"I know." he murmured.  "So am I."  She opened her mouth but he
quickly shushed her with a touch of his finger against her lips.  "You
need your rest, Scully.  The faster we can get out of this place, the
better."

She nodded, her eyes fluttering shut.  "Merry Christmas Mulder." 

"Merry Christmas, Scully." he grinned.  "Merry Christmas."


E  N  D


------
C. Charlotte

"Sympathy constitutes friendship; but in love there is a sort of
antipathy, or opposing passion. Each strives to be the other, and both
together make up one whole."

    Source: geocities.com/xmas_files