From: shirlock Date: Fri, 9 Apr 99 08:57:17 +0800 Subject: New Fanfict: TGTSC and the gifts that gave it back Title: The Ghosts that stole X'mas and the gifts which gave it back. Author: Shirlock Rating: G Category: Post-ep/ MS-ARST (MS Almost Resolved Sexual Tension) Spoilers: TGTSC/ Detour Summary: The story that launched a thousand post-episode stories. Make that 1,001. What were in those packages? Archive: Gossamer, sure. Anywhere else, why the hell not? Include name please. Thanks to: Mr. Carter for his vision. Miss Anderson and Mr. Duchovny for fleshing out these characters. And thanks to the readers who have responded to my writing. Disclaimer: All characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox. If I were him, I'd be happy to loan my characters to be used so imaginatively. Heck, I'd send them a food hamper. Or cash! But I'd certainly not sue them!! They opened their gifts without further ado, each sensing the gifts had a special meaning for the other, a clue as to what he thought of her, or what she thought of him. He held up his prize first. She rolled her eyes over to watch his reaction and saw a slow twinkle sparkle in his eyes. "The Book of Answers." He said, reading the title of the soft back, amused by the eccentricity of the gift, "I guess I'm the man." "For the man who seeks them." She added, wondering if he was as disappointed as his voice sounded. She worked off the last bit of ribbon and held her gift up in the dim light to see. "Bath oils?" She hadn't meant to sound so surprised. She just, was. "Hmm-mmh. I noticed you like baths. And look, look. They're shaped like stars, planets, moons, and suns. A whole constellation! They're little bath oils that I'm sure you'll er...find useful." He said almost with childish excitement , "they smell really nice. I handpicked each one of them myself, Scully." She found her voice and thanked him for the gift. As he did the same, he absentmindedly flipped to a page. "Hey, this is interesting. Why do people cross their fingers for good luck?" As if totally rhetorical, he answered, "The practice may have evolved from the sign of the cross, which was believed to ward off evil. Did you know that?" Instead Scully was studying the tiny little flecks of gold and silver in the bath oils. "Mulder, what are those?" "Those?" He followed her scrutiny. "Oh, those are little vitamin-E skin enhancers, I'm told. The sales person had a real great pitch." The sales person might have said they were the essence found in the fountain of youth and Mulder would've bought that too, she mused to herself, watching Mulder's interest grow very quickly with the new chapters he was flipping to. She was inwardly pleased that he liked her gift. "Hey, Scully, what is avoirdupois weight?" "Uh, it's the system of measuring a grain." She answered. "Okaaaay. Whatabouthisone? What do you get when you kiss the Blarney Stone?" Mulder was becoming fascinated with the morsels of minutiae in his book especially since he finally stumbled on the chapter under Myth and Folktales. Scully pursed her lip and returned blankfaced, "you get...lichen on your lips?" Mulder smiled but looked straight at her. "You don't know anything about Irish myths, do you? The gift of eloquence. You get the gift of eloquence when you kiss the Blarney Stone. You'd better stick to the science questions, doctor." "There are lots of other things I'd like to kiss, thank you very much." She retorted before she had the chance to process the implications. Oddly enough he gave her a look similiar to one out in the woods in Florida where she commented about his wish for raining sleeping bags and weenies. She thought of his present look as "acutely dumbstruck". Scully blocked a yawn then wearily drew herself up. It was nearly 1:30am. She needed to go home, take a shower before driving down to her mother's at 5am. He got up as well. "Well, then. I guess, thanks." He drew her into his embrace. "...for coming, for the book, for staying, for everything." She rubbed his back and squeezed him tightly once more, "Thanks for the present. I'll enjoy them," she released him and put the gift into her jacket pocker. "You'd better go." He said. "Yes, I'd better." They looked at each other, as if there were more words that were waiting to come out but not even the spirit of the season got them beyond their own awkwardness. "Merry Christmas, Mulder. I'll see you Monday." "Merry Christmas, Scully." He said as she stepped out into his hallway. The door closed behind her. He listened to her fading footsteps and when he was sure she was finally gone, he slid into his sofa, relief spilling out from his lungs in one long exhalation. He picked up the thin paperback once more and wondered who publishes such books? Was there any truth to any of this mumbo-jumbo? Turning to the publisher's notes, he was surprised to see his partner's handwriting on the flyleaf. It said, "Dear Mulder, Merry Christmas 1998. Love, Scully. P 67." "What's on page 67?" He asked flipping to the aforementioned page. It was in the chapter under Popular Culture. He scanned the questions until he found one which stood out from the rest. It said, Q. If the stomach is the way to a man's heart, what is the way to a woman's? "I'm damned if I know." He said out loud. He read the answer below; According to a massive reader's poll conducted by ten of the world's most popular female magazines, the way to a woman's heart is the offering of his own. It may not be the only way, but it's the most assured way of winning her heart. Mulder smiled and closed his eyes. "Well I'll be damned..." Back in her apartment, Scully felt drained from the night's experience. Every muscle ached. Even her stomach felt like it *had* been shot at. She dropped her keys on the side table and threw off her black jacket along the way to the bathroom wondering if she had been too presumptious with what she had written on the flyleaf of the book. Suddenly she felt ill that he might have read it now and began picturing him in several shades of sulphuric yellow. "Shower. Need a shower..." The gift sprange to mind even as she glanced at her watch, "Well, why the hell not?" She lifted it out from her coat pocket and sighed at the tackiness of the plastic cyclinder. She decided to empty them into her own glass jar that once held bath salts. The sound of water cascading down the tub was soothing and she closed her eyes momentarily as she pulled open the cover, the sweet aromas attacking her olfactory. "Apples. Honey. Grapes. Peaches. Strawberry." She poured them out of the flimsy container until one particular colour caught her half-opened eyes. It was a strawberry flavoured ruby red bath oil. And it was heart-shaped. It was in fact, the only heart-shaped one in the galaxy of stars, moons, suns and various nebulous planets. She smiled and held it in her fingers. "Aaaaah, Mulder." End. Author's note: The New York Public Library's Book of Answers exists. The only question/ answer NOT in the book is the one that was cited on Pg. 67. I liked TGTSC if only to see the casual way the agents underline their more-than-casual-feelings for one another. I enjoyed the speculation on their respective gifts in other post-ep fanficts but wanted to make their gifts as innocuous as possible on the outside but as finely layered as their complex relationship on the inside. Hope you enjoyed this. I know I did writing it. Feedback: Is the chicken soup for the soul. And I'm always hungry.