Date: Mon, 13 Dec 1999 14:27:29 EST Subject: REV: God Rest Ye Merry Paranoids (1/1) Source: revision Classific: V Spoilers: None Rating: G Keywords: none Summary: It's Christmas morning. Would you open your door to the Gunmen? Many thanks to the Official NORAD Santa Tracking Website at http://www.noradsanta.org God Rest Ye Merry Paranoids (or Mulder and the Night Visitors) by Martha marthalgm@yahoo.com Christmas morning Alexandria, VA The rapid knocking on the front door to his apartment woke Mulder up from a not so restful sleep. 'Jesus, 4AM? Who could that be?' He rolled off the couch and turned off the mute TV that was showing one of the dozen forgettable versions of the story of Ebenezer Scrooge. He opened the door halfway and shook his head at the gathering in the hallway. He should have known - who else but the Gunmen would show up at this hour on Christmas morning? "What's this? You guys saw a star rising in the east?" "Ha, ha. Funny, Mulder." Langly muscled his way in through the door opening. Byers followed suit. "We're flattered that you would consider us comparable with the Three Wise Men." "But we ain't bearing any gifts." Frohike followed his partners into the living room, leaving Mulder holding the door, totally befuddled as to why this visit should have come as a surprise. These guys always tended to show up at the oddest times. He closed the door and traced their steps inside, climbing over Byers, who had sat down on the nearest corner of the couch, to get to the other side. "Forgive my lack of hospitality, but I'm all out of eggnog," Mulder said as he sat down. Frohike had settled in the desk chair and pulled out a bottle wrapped in brown paper from his jacket pocket, "Some of us brought our own refreshments." Mulder set his feet up on the coffee table and slouched down into his couch. "What are you doing here?" Frohike took a short swig from his bottle. "Well, for one thing, your cell phone is turned off." "And you haven't picked up your email yet." Langly stretched out in the chair along the opposite wall. "We've left several messages on your answering machine," Byers offered, "but you hadn't returned any of our calls." Mulder looked around at all three of them. "So how did you know that I was home?" Langly decided that he would be more comfortable with his legs hanging over the armrest. "Mulder, face it, we always know when you're home." "Is there a particular reason for this visit?" Mulder knew it was a hopeless cause to get any straight answers, but it was part of the game and he had to try. "Actually, yes." Byers looked around at his partners and began, "We just spent the better part of the evening tracking an unknown entity that appeared on NORAD's radar. They picked it up somewhere over Newfoundland, and it continued to slowly move in a westward direction until it went out of range just a short time ago." Frohike continued, "DSP Satellite System started feeding back infrared pictures taken by two Canadian CF-18s of this unidentified object . . ." Mulder started cracking up. "Wait a minute. You boys were tracking *Santa*?" "Of course. Nothing better to do - most of the regular satellite traffic is slow during the holidays," Langly called out as he studied the ceiling. "But Langly, they have software packages now that can simulate Santa's path . . ." Langly got one of his evil-looking grins on his face. "But tapping into Cheyenne Mountain is much more fun." "There's actually a funny story about how the Air Force got started doing those reports . . ." Byers began. "Yeah, yeah; I know," Mulder interrupted him. "Over forty years ago, some store advertisement listed the wrong phone number of kids to call in for Santa and accidentally published the Operations Hotline for the Commander in Chief of CONAD. They played along when the kids started calling in, and they've been doing this ever since." "How do you know it was an accident?" Frohike asked in all seriousness. "Frohike, is there anything that is *not* part of some overall conspiracy in this world?" He thought for a moment while he warmed his stomach with another drink. "Well, I am still trying to understand the popularity of fruitcake. But that may be a lost cause." "Why don't you guys ever go and bother Scully on Christmas?" "Because she's already at her mother's. Why aren't you bothering Scully on Christmas?" Frohike seemed content to continue drinking without offering any to anyone else. "Because she's already at her mother's." The rest of them giggled at this remark, and Mulder decided to get in some teasing of his own. "So, Frohike, are you conceding dibs on the fair Agent Scully?" "I tried to give her the best years of my life," Frohike began in all seriousness, "but she's seems intent on wasting her time on boyish charm and reckless abandonment. Don't good looks and life experiences count for anything anymore?" Byers pulled himself up off the couch. "Well, I'm sure that when Agent Scully finds that combination, she'll let the rest of us know. Come on, we need to get on the road." "Where are you guys off to?" Mulder asked. Frohike explained, "We head into Baltimore for breakfast at this diner that we used to frequent. It's a standing invitation among the old crowd - some years are sparser than others, but we like to make an appearance. And then afterwards, if we're still sober, we drop in on Byers' folks in Philadelphia for dinner." "And sometimes, some of us are *not* so sober," Byers added under his breath but not so quietly. Frohike raised his bottle in a salute. "Your mother is a saint." Mulder stood to show the Gunmen out. "She'd have to be to put up with those two year after year." Byers turned to him and asked, "If you've got nothing planned, why don't you join us, Mulder?" "No . . . I don't *do* family things well." "You need to get out every now and then. Come on, feed your fish, grab your jacket, and let's go." Byers dug out the van keys from this coat pocket. "Langly'll drive us to breakfast while we catch a nap. You might actually enjoy yourself. For a change." "No . . . It's been a long time since I've had any Christmas spirit." Langly scrambled out of the chair to join them. "Come on, Mulder; you know, it's the most wonderful time of the year," and he began humming the refrain of that song. Mulder leaned in towards Byers and whispered, "Let me guess - Langly serenades during this drive." "And I've got a million of them." Langly opened the apartment door and motioned for the rest to get moving. "Unfortunately," Byers and Frohike both replied as they followed him to the front door. Mulder made the sudden, if not irrational, decision to join them in their Christmas Day adventures and reached for his jacket that had been thrown across a spare chair. "Just as long as you don't do that Grandma got run over song." "Oh, Mulder, that is so last year." Langly suddenly seemed to remember that is was still early morning to the rest of the world and lowered his voice to reduce the echoing in the hallway, "My new favorite is 'You Ain't Gettin' Diddlysquat'." "I'm beginning to regret this already." "So, what did you get Scully for Christmas?" Frohike asked. Mulder stood at his doorway, straightened his jacket, and grabbed the doorknob to pull it shut. "You mean you haven't poked into my Visa authorizations lately?" "It's a long holiday weekend," Frohike spit out without thinking. "Nothing'll update until Monday evening." Both Byers and Langly looked a bit guiltily at each other, but Frohike simply shrugged his shoulders and added, "So we looked already. So what? You'll call her from the road in an hour, and we'll all wish her a Merry Christmas. And then we'll worm it out of her." Mulder just shook his head and closed the door behind him. There was a truly evil version of 'The Twelve Days of Christmas' that he was dying to try out. Maybe he could teach it to them in time to serenade Scully when he called her. end