From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Sat, 30 Dec 2000 00:56:48 -0600
Subject: Merry Christmas S... by Isobel De Leto
Source: direct

Reply To: de_leto@hotmail.com


Title: Merry Christmas S...
Author: Isobel De Leto
Disclaimer: I disclaim that I own Mulder,
Scully, X-Files, anything and everything
X-Files.
Category: Romance W/T
Rated: G 
Spoilers: No. 
Archive: Yeah.
Feedback: de_leto@hotmail.com
Author's Notes: This little Christmas treat is for
SGirl. I'm sure she'll enjoy it.
Summary: Isn't Christmas perfect for sweet little
love letters? 

                  *~* Merry Christmas S... *~*
                       by Isobel De Leto

Her fingers fumbled with the envelope. It was crimson red,
the nice colour that decorated both her curtains and
her table-cloth this time of year, and would eventually stare
back at her from the old, shiny balls in the Christmas tree -
those who she had been honoured to have by her mother.
Her mother loved Christmas. She did too.
She took out a bright white sheet of paper that smelled faintly of
oranges and fruitcakes, and smiling she closed her eyes and
breathed in the odeour. Wow...
Upon the cool surface of her letter, someone with a curly, 
sloping and much familiar handwriting wrote her;

"Dear,
I wonder, what were you doing in the second you recieved this?",

and she could hear his voice read out every word in her head;

"Were you perhaps wrapping the last of the gifts you have selected
for each member of your family, for each person lucky enough
to call her or himself a friend of yours, or were you maybe lost
in the sensations of slowly eating a bar of that delicious truffel
I brought you, your pink tongue licking away the dark, dark chocolate
with which it was covered?
I also find it plausible that you might were sealing the 
envelopes of your Christmas cards with that old-fashioned, 
red sealing wax you have - I know you can't get enough of the 
smell - or that you had just lighted all the candles on your
livingroom  table and pulled the drapings closed and picked a 
book out of your shelf, probably "A Christmas Carol", and now 
planned on sinking down in your armchair with it for several calm 
hours.
You could have returned from a shopping route, too, heavy bags full
of glossy paper and presents in your beautiful and delicate hands,
your head swirling with thoughts of how to best disguise that jewel
necklace from Bloomingdales for your mother; make it look like 
a set of kitchen utilities or a thick book on cooking. 
You were thinking that you must get a proper, big box for the 
necklace, it wouldn't hint what it really contained and your mother 
would be surprised. 
And I can see you before my eyes, dressed in that apron with an 
embroided Santa Claus on it, an apron you every year dimissed with
a "I'll never wear that again!" but always ended up putting on when
making holiday sweets came up on your Christmas list. 
Last year when we made those wonderful gingerbreads with our 
names iced on  them in bright red and white, you wore it, and I 
laughed at you.
You flushed, smiled sheepishly and tried to apologize about it, but
I just kissed you and told you that you were the cutest I had seen
walk on earth, and you seemed to like that.

Well, dear, whatever you were doing, it must have been a beautiful
sight; everything you do is enchanting and mesmerizing...
I have never met anyone like you, and I know no woman who need not
do more than brush away a strand of her fiery, strawberry-coloured 
hair from her face or give me the slightest touch of her hand to
make me want her. All I do is for you, my love!
I need nothing more than you! I love you, and I hope that our 
friendship,  our trust and understanding, our great love, will 
last forever!
Yes, that is the reason I sent you this letter, to tell you that
no one will ever take your place, you are the person I treasure
the most in this world, and I hope that you still feel the same.

Merry Christmas, Saga Carolyn!

Yours truly, F. Mulder..."

Yes, it was Christmas at last.


The End