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From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 29 Dec 2005 16:54:03 -0000
Subject: Christmas Past by ML by ML
Source: direct

Reply To: msnsc21@yahoo.com


December 28, 2005
Title: Christmas Past
Author: ML
Email:  msnsc21@yahoo.com
Feedback: always welcome
Rating: B for bittersweet
Ep frame of reference:  several through S7.  After that, it's 
AU since there's not a baby or a Super Soldier in sight.

For the BtS Secret Santa Challenge, and with best wishes to 
Donna, whose stories always delight me!

=====

"In goes my hand into that wool-white bell-tongued ball of 
holidays..."

-Dylan Thomas, "A Child's Christmas in Walees"

=====

Christmas Past
by ML

She has never considered herself a sentimental person, but 
Christmas always brings it out in her.  More to the point, 
Christmas is the only time she indulges herself.

She unpacks the box carefully, mindful of its age and fragility.  
She knows she could pack all of its contents in a plastic container, 
but part of the charm is this old box, one she remembers from her 
parents' garage time out of mind.  The years are catalogued on it, 
scratched out and renewed, sometimes listing new contents, sometimes 
not.  She pulls off the first layer of bubble wrap carefully and 
surveys what's there.

Right on top is the oldest item: a box of "Shiny-Brite" ornaments 
from her childhood.  She knows that Bill and Charlie have similar 
ones to share with their families.  She wonders briefly, sadly, 
what happened to Melissa's.

She lays them carefully aside.  In deference to their age, she 
will not put them on her tree, but she will display them under 
it, a tangible reminder of days gone by.

They used to vie for the privilege of putting the first ornament 
on the tree.  There was a strict protocol, decreed by their father 
but enforced by their mother if he wasn't there.  One put the 
first ornament up; another got to put the "special" ornament, a 
large stylized swan with a feathered tail.  One helped Mom put 
up the Elf Village, though that was more fun for Charlie and 
Melissa than Dana or Bill.  Bill didn't have the patience to set 
the little figures just so, and Dana wasn't interested in elves. 
Melissa took forever, always making up a story to go with the 
tableau.

The final honor was to be the one to "present" the finished 
tree.  Once the last ornament was hung, everyone had to troop 
into the kitchen and shut the door.  They waited until they heard 
the Christmas music turned up from the stereo (Melissa always 
chose The Nutcracker, Bill and Charlie always chose some pop 
song), and then they returned, Mom first. They ooh'd and ahh'd 
over the tree, the only light in the living room, and then they 
had hot chocolate with a peppermint stick in it.

One year, when it was Bill's turn, his preparation for the 
ceremony seemed to take forever.  Dana, Melissa, and Charlie 
snickered that he must have blown a fuse or knocked over the 
tree when they heard his urgent "Mom!" from the living room.  

A few more long minutes passed and the three siblings dared each 
other to peek around the edge of the kitchen door to see what 
was going on.

Then Mom's voice called them to come back into the living room 
-- and there was Dad, home early from his ddeployment.  Charlie 
declared that it was "the best Christmas ever" on the spot, but 
looking back, she could say that about any Christmas growing up.  
Every one of them was the best in its own way, until the next one 
came along.

The smile as she places the box carefully under the tree is 
bittersweet.  No more "best Christmas ever" for the Scully 
family.  At least, not in the widely understood meaning of 
the term.  The remaining members can and do get together, and 
they have fun, but the ghosts of Christmas past are always 
there.

She smiles as her hand encounters a familiar tissue-wrapped 
object.  It's an empty bottle of Old Spice, still slightly 
scented. She closes her eyes.  No matter how much time passes, 
the scent will always remind her of Ahab.

With a few tears, she recalls the last Christmas her father 
was alive.  She'd been so proud of her new job, her apartment, 
the pretty tree and the dinner she'd made for her parents.  The 
boys had both been deployed, Melissa was off on her own, and 
she had her parents to herself.   The following year she hadn't 
put up a tree at all, and every year now she remembers his 
teasing about leaving the tree up past Christmas Day.

She lifts a small square tissue-wrapped object out of the box 
but doesn't unwrap it.  She knows what it is.  Emily, the gift 
she hadn't known she wanted until she found her.

No tears fall from her eyes this time.  Her family has very 
different memories of that year, and she chooses to dwell on 
the miracle of her nephew, Matthew, as well.  She keeps that 
pain to herself.  It will always be hers to bear alone.

Perhaps not entirely alone.  Laying Emily's photo carefully 
back in the box, she picks up another object.  Once unwrapped, 
she flips the tiny switch on the underside and the Grinch's 
green face glows at her.

"It was the closest thing to an alien head I could find," Mulder 
had explained when he gave it to her on the most bizarre Christmas 
she's ever experienced.  "Besides, I think the case could be made 
that he *is* alien."

"But I thought you said Reticulans were gray, not green," she'd 
countered.

"Not all aliens are Reticulans," he'd replied.  They'd argued 
back and forth until Mulder had unexpectedly kissed her.  Not 
long after that, she'd reluctantly left for her mother's house, 
where the day had passed in a blur of fatigue and longing.

Is that the "best Christmas ever" in her adult life?  Maybe not, 
but it is definitely in the running.

Evidently Mulder had decided that kissing her was meant to be an 
annual event, since the next time he'd even attempted it was the 
following year.

Ah well.  Water under the bridge, as Ahab would say.  She smiles 
to herself as she places Mr. Grinch in a prominent place on the 
tree.

Lounging in the doorway of her kitchen, Mulder watches as Scully 
removes and then replaces each precious object in the cardboard 
box.  He's never witnessed this before, but he can tell that it's 
a ritual that Scully has performed many times in the past.  

He notes her tears and her smiles, and wonders about the events 
that cause them.  Some he can guess at, but he'd like to hear 
about them from her.  He has long wanted to know everything about 
her, to share her tears as well as her laughter.  Little by little, 
she is letting him.  But he wants her to do it on her own terms, 
not because she's forced into it.  He turns quietly back into the 
kitchen and calls out to announce his presence.

"Hey Scully, ready for some eggnog?"

"I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost," she says, carefully 
folding the flaps of the precious box closed and coming over to 
meet him.

He hands her a glass and gives her a kiss.  He gestures with his 
free hand.  "What's in the box?"

She looks at the box for a long moment, and he thinks that she's 
not ready to share this with him yet.  Then she turns to him and 
says, "Christmas past.  Would you like to see?"

Mulder nods.  "If you'd like to show me, I would."

She leads him over to the tree and they sit side by side as Scully 
opens the box.

~end~

The best Christmas ever?  The best Christmases are a mixed bag 
of joys and sorrows.  The joy is out there.  You just have to 
know where to look.  May all of your Christmases be the best ever.




The Gossamer Project  	Author  - Title
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Crossovers  - X-Files  - Adventures
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  	Other stories by ML  	 

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