From: Jonathan Montgomery Date: 25 Dec 1999 02:15:57 GMT Subject: X-Files: A Christmas Eve Story (Short) Disclaimer: I do not own X-files or any of its characters. This is a non-profit writing with no copywrite infringement intended. Author's Note: Hello, everyone. This is my second attempt at X-Files fan fiction, but this story has one vital difference. It's being written 'live', one could say. I am writing this raw, directly to the newsgroup. As I write this author's note, I have no idea where this little piece of fiction will go, or even what it's about -- so don't expect too much. :) It's short and sweet, a quick-read, I assure you! Without further ado: Shopping bags were stacked in the back covered in over-priced shopping mall wrapping paper (it was all last-minute, just like last year--a quick trip to a shopping center full of robotic Christmas carolers; yet another conspiracy). Scully pursed her lips, her gaze almost diverted by the drifting flakes of white. Mother's house would be packed. Scully heard everyone would be in attendance--not just her brother's family, but cousins from far and wide. She got the list over the phone. There were almost forty kids to shop for; kids she didn't even know, and yet were somehow related. Scully steered into a right turn. It seemed all kinds of family members were popping out of the framework, and she was too busy to notice. While the relatives frolicked and multiplied, she hunted down government informants, mutants and monsters, ghosts scaring her silly (it was a dream, wasn't it?) and lost ships from the thirties. Was it all worth it? I mean, look at it--the world is turning. People are growing up, starting families, finding for themselves that dreamy house at the street corner (...living the American dream...). But where was she? Buying her Christmas gifts the night before, cruising the highway and hoping they might save her a little turkey. The car before her, a little vague in the darkness, slowed until the license plate reflected her headlights. ALONE, it said. The car slowed to a snail's crawl, and much like her social life, it stopped. It's nine twenty-four. Traffic at this hour? Maybe they're in the same ordeal, struggling to keep up with the world around them. Whatever the case: "Shit." A honking horn at her side startled her. She looked sideways. Oh my God, Mulder? What is it, another haunted house to stake out? It would be fitting. Scully rolled down the window. "Going my way?" Mulder grinned. "The radio says traffic's cramped up for at least a mile. Mind if I join you?" Scully opened the door, and Mulder hopped into her car. He smiled like this was some big joke to him. He noted her disdain and looked ahead to the road, snow sweeping across the cars ahead like the sands of time. "They said there was an accident. A greyhound bus slipped on some ice and collided with a truck. It might take a few hours." From his pocked he produced a candycane--like the ones they give children after sitting on Santa's lap at the mall. "Mulder," she moaned, "how is it that we run into each other every Christmas eve? And the traffic--" she pointed up ahead. "I never get to be with my family." "At least we get to be together, Scully." He popped the cane out of its wrapping and offered it. The sincerity of his statement was alarming and heart-warming at the same time. She accepted the cane. Tasted the end. "You're a curse, aren't you?" She was wondering if her words were too cynical. Looking up at him, she tasted the cane again. His grin was wider--he knew what she was going to say. She was getting predictable. Mulder reached back into his pocket and pulled out a sunseed, popped it into his mouth. "I think so, Scully. I think so." Scully stared forward, and lost her gaze into the onset of milky white. A storm was setting in. "I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world." The cold set in around them--the chaos of their mysterious world. But within the comfort of their car, the comfort of sitting side-by-side, they remained as warm as if it were a summer's day. Hours passed, and side-by-side they sat, into the night. The world was changing around them--building homes, and families. But she hadn't realized the family she already had, the struggle that gave her life meaning--and more importantly, who she struggled with. "Merry Christmas, Mulder," Scully said, groggily leaning back. "Merry Christmas, Scully." --- Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year to X-Files fans everywhere. May you find fulfillment in the year 2000, and the millennium beyond it (which starts on 2001, as Scully will tell you). It's Christmas Eve right now as I write this, but I imagine it is Christmas for some of you already. Be assured that the truth is still out there. Always. Jonathan Montgomery