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  This author's e-mail address has changed to: xanaduxf@yahoo.com
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From: "Shannon" <shannono@mindspring.com>
Date: Tue, 21 Dec 1999 20:00:41 -0500
Subject: NEW: Very Merry (1/1) by shannono
Source: xff


Very Merry
by shannono
shannono@iname.com


Distribution: Okay for Gossamer and Ephemeral; others,
link only, please, or ask me first. Thanks. :)

Story, Mulder/Scully UST, spoilers through "Millennium"

Rated PG

Summary: Happy holidays ...

Author's notes: I've been puzzling over the exchange of
"Merry Christmas" between Mulder and Scully at the
beginning of "Millennium." So we're expected to believe
they didn't see or speak to each other from sometime before
Christmas until December 30? Yeah, *right*. So rather than
complain, I came up with my own explanation for that little
bit of dialogue. And yes, as should be rather apparent, this
would be my holiday story for the year. <g>

Thanks: To Brandon, Livia, and Lisa, for beta. :)

=======

Very Merry
by shannono


FBI headquarters
December 22, 1999
4:27 p.m.

Scully signed her name with a flourish, sighed gratefully,
and dropped the pen. "There, " she said, turning to shoot
Mulder a smile. "Done."

He glanced up and pouted. "No fair, Scully," he said,
almost whining. "I've got three more to finish."

"Tough luck, Mulder," she said, straightening the stack of
paper and grabbing an interoffice mail envelope for it.
"You should have started earlier. You've known for a week
we had to finish this stuff before we left today." She
glanced at her watch. "And you've got exactly 30 minutes,
if you plan to get out of here on time."

Mulder looked down at the half-finished form in front of
him and sighed. "Doesn't look like I'm going to make the
deadline," he said mournfully. "I'll be here at least
another hour and half."

"Next time, quit taking solitaire breaks," Scully said,
stuffing a few pieces of paper into her briefcase. "Since
we don't get a New Year's holiday this year, I'm taking
full advantage of Christmas."

Mulder watched her as she hurriedly got her things
together. "What time's your flight?" he asked.

"Ten-twenty in the morning," she said, rummaging in the one
relatively messy drawer in her workspace for something as
she spoke. "I get into San Diego around one, and I'm
supposed to be at Bill's for dinner around six."

Mulder's eyebrows lifted at this. "You're not staying with
them?" he asked, surprised.

Scully's hands paused in their movements, and she gave what
he guessed was supposed to be a careless shrug. "It was a
little crowded last time," she said, her voice soft. "And
since Charlie's family may actually make it this year, I
decided we'd all have more room if I stayed at a hotel."

Silence fell between them, and Scully went back to her
preparations to leave for a week. Mulder cast about for
the right thing to say, but he doubted anything would be
appropriate.

The Scully family Christmas had been on the east coast last
year, at Mrs. Scully's always-warm, always-welcoming home.
Mulder had been invited, as he had been in the past
whenever Scully's mom hosted the gathering. And he had
declined gently, as he always did when he was invited, not
wanting to cause Scully or her family any additional problems
on the holiday, when they so rarely saw each other as it was.

But he'd managed to spend both Christmas Eve and a couple
hours of Christmas morning with Scully anyway. It took some
scheming on his part to get the first part, but the second
was all her doing. She came to him of her own free will,
and it took everything he had in him not to express the
giddy feelings her unexpected appearance brought up in him.

There would be no such sweet surprise this year, he knew.
The family celebration was moving back to San Diego, and
Scully was squeezing in every moment she could. Since New
Year's leave had been canceled for all agents, in
anticipation of Y2K-related terrorism activity, she had put
in for a few extra days before Christmas and moved up her
flight by a day.

Unfortunately for Mulder, that threw a major monkey wrench
into his holiday plans. He had wanted to take her out to
dinner the night before she left; had even gone so far as
to make reservations at one of the nicer restaurants. When
he found out her plans had changed, he tried in vain to
move the reservations up a day. So now he was left with
nothing to do for her to show ... whatever it was he was
trying to show.

He thought of the gift sitting in his apartment, then
dismissed the thought. She hadn't mentioned exchanging
gifts, and he didn't want to put her on the spot. Dinner
would have been safe, but now he was stuck.

He sighed, almost silently, as he watched her shut down her
computer. The root of his problem was that he didn't quite
know *what* he was trying to show her. How much she meant
to him, certainly; but in what way? As a partner? Of
course. As a friend? Definitely. As ... well, whatever it
was it seemed they were becoming?

He shook himself mentally, as if dislodging cobwebs of
confusion. He wished, almost desperately, for that sense of
peace and *rightness* he'd felt nearly two months ago,
standing in his doorway as she walked away, when for a
brief moment he was sure of himself, sure of Scully, sure
of their place in the world and their joint purpose.

Lost in thought, he didn't realize Scully was calling his
name until she touched his shoulder. He jumped, then
flushed a bit in embarrassment and looked up at her
ruefully.

"Daydreaming won't get those finished any quicker, Mulder,"
she said, returning the smile. Her hand dropped away from
his arm, and Mulder felt a shiver rise at the sudden chill
that hit when the warmth of her hand left him.

He shrugged and half-smiled, gaze dropping back to the
papers sitting in front of him. "Not like I have big
plans," he said before he thought how it would sound.
Scully sighed, and he looked up into her frowning face. She
opened her mouth as if to speak, and for a second he
thought she was going to either invite him to San Diego, or
offer to stay in Washington.

He couldn't let her do either. "I'll be fine, Scully," he
said quickly. "Really. It's no big deal. I'll go over and
eat dinner with the guys; they invite me every holiday, and
sometimes I actually go." He cracked a grin. "Frohike makes
a mean deep-fried turkey."

The line got the response he was looking for -- a wry,
skeptical grin and a shake of her head that set her shining
hair swinging slightly. "Now *that* is a frightening
thought," she said, reaching for the coat she'd set on the
chair next to his desk.

Impulsively, Mulder stood up and reached for the coat,
ignoring the quizzical look she shot him as he held the
soft black wool open for her to slip her arms in. He
settled the coat on her shoulders, pausing to pick off a
tiny speck of white fluff that had settled against the top
of her arm.

She turned around to face him, less than a foot between
them. Her head tilted back so she could see his face, and
he gazed down at her, smiling softly. She seemed to study
him, and then her hand lifted in slow-motion, coming up to
brush across the front of his close-shorn hair. Her fingers
drifted to the left, touching the smooth spot on his temple
where the bullet had grazed him a year and a half before.

His eyes fluttered closed as she touched him; he couldn't
help it. Her gentle fingers ran down across his cheek, and
then he felt her soft lips press against the hinge of his
jaw on the other side of his face.

"See you next week," she whispered, and he heard her
footsteps moving away.

Mulder swayed on his feet, eyes still closed, and took
himself back to the beach. He hadn't done this since that
day in the doorway of his apartment, in the moments after
he and Scully had made their promises, spoken and unspoken.

He was back atop the sand ship with the little boy, playing
and laughing. Since their ship was safe, finished and far
enough away from the water, they were building something
else this time. A castle. A real, honest-to-goodness
sandcastle, complete with fancy turrets and towers and
drawbridges and a moat.

But then, as they worked, the structure started to change.
They made it simpler, more modern; a house, not a castle. A
two-story house, with a wide porch and a two-car garage on
the side.

In his mind, he looked down at the little boy, seeing his
own longing reflected in the eyes of the child.

In his office, Mulder's eyes opened, and he smiled.

====

December 24, 1999
11:59 p.m.

When the phone rang, Mulder had just stepped out of the
shower. Grabbing a towel, he swiped half-heartedly at his
wet skin as he dripped his way across his bedroom carpet to
grab the receiver.

"Mulder," he answered, attacking his hair with the soft
terrycloth.

"Merry Christmas, Mulder," came Scully's voice. Mulder
smiled automatically, glancing down at the clock to see it
was a minute after midnight.

"It's not Christmas there yet, Scully," he said lightly,
balancing the phone between ear and shoulder as he wrapped
the towel around his waist in some strange fit of long-
distance modesty. He perched on the edge of the mattress.
"Besides, don't you have more pressing things to do than
calling to check up on me?"

Her soft laugh filled his heart almost to bursting.
"There's only so much holiday togetherness I can take at
one time," she said dryly. "At the moment, Tara is
following Mattie around the living room to keep him from
tearing into either the presents under the tree or the tree
itself, Mom and Betty are fending off the older kids'
attempts to figure out what they're getting from Santa, and
Bill and Charlie are in the middle of a rousing debate over
the Presidential candidates. You'd love it, Mulder; at this
point, you could tell them John McCain was really an alien,
and they'd probably believe you."

Mulder laughed outright at that, reaching behind him and
pulling at the comforter to wrap it around himself against
the chilly air. "So Charlie made it?" he said.

"Yeah, he and Betty dragged in around noon with the kids in
tow," she said. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone.
"I have to say that those three are possibly the loudest
kids I've ever been around for more than a few minutes.
They're funny and bright and sweet, but they apparently
don't have a 'low' setting on their volume."

A shout from Scully's end punctuated her assessment, and
Mulder felt the grin on his face broaden. She was obviously
enjoying herself, despite the memories he knew would be
hitting her in force. He was glad she'd be long gone before
New Year's Day; once the holiday bustle was over, she'd
have too much time to think. And he knew she would think;
it was something they had in common.

Mulder heard a door close, and Scully said, "I decided to
step out onto the porch," she said, letting out a breath.
"Besides, they've got a great porch swing out here."

Mulder heard a few soft creaks as she set the swing into
motion, and his eyes closed. He pictured the sand house he
and his alter ego had built, and quickly added a porch
swing. He didn't care that the sand wouldn't actually work
for that; it was his dream, he decided, and if he wanted a
porch swing, he'd have one.

"Mulder?" Scully's voice brought him back, and he realized
she must have asked him something.

"Sorry, Scully, what did you say?" he asked.

"I asked if you were still eating with the guys tomorrow,"
she said, her voice lower now that she wasn't talking over
her family's voices.

"Yeah," he answered, shifting on the mattress to distract
himself from the husky quality of her voice. "Frohike
called about four this afternoon and told me I'd better
come. He bought a twenty-pound turkey, for some
unfathomable reason, and he said they needed help eating it
or they'd be stuck with a month's worth of leftovers. "

He could hear the laughter in her voice. "Twenty pounds?"
she said. "That's the size of *our* turkey, and we have ten
people to eat it, including two ravenous pre-teens!"

Mulder chuckled. "Yeah, I told him that was overkill, no
pun intended," he replied. "Unless they plan to invite
every hacker they know, they're going to have a month's
worth of leftovers even with me helping them eat."

Scully laughed again, softly, and then fell silent. Mulder
sat unmoving, listening to her breathe across the thousands
of miles between them and wishing he was with her.

Her voice broke through his once-again-wandering thoughts.
"Well, I guess I should get back inside and be the dutiful
daughter," she said softly. "We're going to Midnight Mass
in a couple hours, and these kids will have us up at the
crack of dawn in the morning, I'm sure."

"Yeah," Mulder said, matching her tone. "You take care,
Scully, and enjoy yourself."

She sighed. "I'll do my best," she said wistfully. "You
take care of yourself -- and don't eat too much turkey."

They were each laughing lightly as they hung up.

========

December 25, 1999
2:33 p.m.

Mulder dropped his fork and shoved his plate away, unable
to look at the remainder of his third helping of everything
for another moment. He was stuffed to the gills, so full of
turkey and trimmings that he felt like he could fall asleep
right where he sat.

"Had enough, Mulder?" Langly teased from the other side of
the room. The youngest Gunman had a half-full plate -- his
fourth, Mulder thought -- balanced on the computer desk
beside him as he worked on something he'd said was too
delicate to abandon now, even for Christmas dinner.

"I'm too old for this," Mulder groaned in reply, drawing a
light chuckle from Byers, who sat across the mostly-cleared
table, his own third plate nearly empty.

Frohike piped up from the kitchen door. "C'mon, Mulder,
there's still plenty of turkey left," he cajoled.

Mulder groaned louder. "Please, God, no more," he whined,
only half-joking. He glanced at Frohike and grinned.
"Really, guys, everything was great, but if I eat another
bite, you're gonna be cleaning my insides off everything."

"Nice mental image, Mulder," Langly offered around a
mouthful of stuffing.

Mulder stood up, carefully, and reached for his coat. He
would have offered to help with the cleanup -- he could be
a gentleman when he wanted to -- but the first time he'd
eaten one of Frohike's holiday meals, the little man had
almost been offended by the suggestion. Apparently, Frohike
liked the whole cooking thing, from grocery shopping through
cleanup, and he didn't want anyone taking any of it away
from him.

"Hey, we're doing a Y2K conspiracy chat later, if you wanna
hang around, Mulder," Langly said, but Mulder shook his
head.

"Sorry, guys, I think I need to sleep off that meal," he
said. "Thanks, and Merry Christmas."

He almost made it to the door before Frohike waylaid him
with a huge bag of leftovers, neatly packaged, and Mulder
refrained from suggesting that Frohike just go ahead and
start a restaurant. He said another round of thanks and
then headed home.

He'd just finished slipping the last of the plastic
containers into his previously-empty refrigerator when his
phone rang.

"How was the turkey?" Scully asked.

"Don't mention the word to me," he said. "I have more
leftovers than I'll ever eat, and I don't even *want* to
think about eating them right now, anyway."

Scully chuckled. "We're about to eat, ourselves, but I
slipped outside for a few minutes first," she said, her
voice low, as if she didn't want to be overheard. "I just
wanted to say Merry Christmas."

Mulder smiled. "Scully, you already told me Merry
Christmas, at 12:01 this morning."

"But it wasn't Christmas *here* then," she said lightly.
"Now it is, so ... Merry Christmas, Mulder."

He sighed, teasing her, and replied, "Okay, okay, Merry
Christmas, Scully." He paused, then said, "So did Santa
bring you what you really wanted?"

She didn't answer for a long moment, and then she laughed,
almost nervously. "Some of it," she said. "But I'm hoping
he's still got a few surprises up his sleeve."

Mulder lowered his voice. "Maybe he left something else
under your tree," he murmured, striving for just a hint of
suggestiveness, but nothing that couldn't be ignored if she
wanted. He held his breath, hoping she would pick up on his
intent, and that if she did, she'd be receptive.

She was silent for a moment, and then her reply came back
in the same tone. "Maybe he did," she said, and Mulder felt
a wash of relief mixed with muted desire.

She paused, and then her normal tone returned. "Well, I'd
better go back in," she said. "I'll talk to you soon,
Mulder."

He hung up, and immediately, his mind began planning how to
greet her when she returned home. Her flight was due in
Wednesday afternoon, so he could go over to her place a
couple hours earlier and set up a picnic dinner, laid out
on a blanket under her Christmas tree, he decided. Nice,
somewhat romantic, but not too blatant.

As long as he wore normal clothes and not a peek-a-boo
Santa suit.

==========

December 25, 1999
11:43 p.m.

When the phone rang again, Mulder knew who it was.

"Merry Christmas, Scully," he answered, and she laughed.

"And a *very* Merry Christmas to you, too, Mulder," she
said. "I just realized about a half-hour ago that I forgot
to give you your gift before I left. I was in such a hurry
that I didn't even think of it. It's still sitting under my
tree. I'm sorry."

He was taken aback; she *had* gotten him a gift? He looked
across the bedroom at the wrapped package sitting on his
dresser. He'd bought it six weeks ago, but he'd decided to
go with dinner instead. He hadn't wanted to give it to her
and make her uncomfortable if she hadn't gotten anything
for him.

But she had. Of course she had; she was Scully, and she
always did the right thing.

"Uh, no problem, Scully," he said. "We can do that when you
get back."

"Sure," she said. "Just keep Christmas going for a while
longer."

"Right," he answered.

There was a short pause, and then Scully cleared her
throat. "Well, I'd better let you go," she said. "We're
going up to Oceanside to visit some old friends tomorrow,
so I may be out of touch for a couple of days. If I don't
talk to you before then, see you in a few days."

"Okay," he said, feeling stupid but unable to think of
anything witty to say.

After he hung up, he sat on the edge of the bed and stared
at Scully's gift uncertainly. She'd gotten him something,
but was it a *real* gift, or was it more like the half-
joking gifts they'd exchanged last year?

He hoped it was the former, because he'd feel pretty silly
giving her his gift and getting an Elvis video in return.
He'd gone for something a little more serious this year. It
was really an impulse buy, following hard on the heels of
his recovery, and he'd nearly returned it several times
before deciding he could get away with giving it to her for
Christmas.

Maybe he'd open hers first, then decide if he should still
give her this one.

========

December 29, 1999
1:45 p.m.

The phone was silent for the next few days, so when it rang
in the office, Mulder knew it was Scully.

"Mulder, it's me," Scully said. "I'm afraid I'm going to be
late getting back. I got bumped from my flight, and the
next one I can get on without three layovers is in five
hours."

Mulder's heart sank. There went his carefully-laid plans.
Again. Five hours meant she wouldn't be home until sometime
around ten, and she'd be much too tired for dinner then. He
quickly rescheduled in his mind to the next night.

"Holiday travel is no picnic," he said into the phone.
"Sorry you're running into the worst of it."

"Me too," she said, sighing. "I guess I'll go do some
window shopping until it's closer to time for my flight.
It'll take too long to get to Bill's and back, but I don't
want to hang around the airport that long."

"Sure," Mulder said as he had a thought. "You want me to
pick you up at the airport?"

"Thanks, Mulder, but no," she said. "It'll be a madhouse,
and I'd probably just bite your head off anyway. No reason
for both of us to go through that mess. I'll just see you
in the morning."

"Don't be in a rush," he said quickly. "Things are really
dead around here."

"No threats, no mad bombers?" she said lightly.

"Not a word," he said. "I've been pushing paper all week
and twiddling my thumbs. They won't really let me start a
new case, since we're supposed to be on call through the
weekend. Maybe something will come up."

"Maybe so," Scully said. "Well, let me go see what I can
find to do for a few hours. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," he answered. "Oh, and Scully?"

"Yes?"

"Merry Christmas."

She laughed. "Merry Christmas, Mulder."

=========

December 30, 1999
3:22 a.m.

His first instinct when the phone woke him was to answer
with "Merry Christmas, Scully." Luckily, his voice wasn't
working that well, so he didn't make a fool of himself to
Skinner.

"Mulder, I need you on a flight to Florida in two hours,"
the A.D. said, his tone tense. "Sorry to wake you so early,
but it's pretty crucial."

"S'ok," Mulder muttered, sitting up and running a hand over
his face and through his hair. "What about Scully?"

"She'll be following a little later," he said. "She called
in yesterday, after she talked to you, and explained her
flight problems. She said she might be in late this
morning, so we've got her on a flight a little after seven.
Besides, your seat was the last one left on your flight."

"K," Mulder said, still about a quarter asleep. "When and
where?"

"Delta Flight 1109, leaving Dulles at 5:20, layover in
Atlanta," Skinner replied. "There's a courier on the way to
your place now with your ticket and a copy of the file. He
should be there in about fifteen."

"K," Mulder repeated groggily. "I'll be there."

========

Tallahassee, Florida
11:51 a.m.

Mulder thought he'd never seen a sweeter sight than
Scully's face peering down at him from the ground above.
Grave exploring wasn't much fun no matter what, but
anything was better with her around.

He thought again of her Christmas gift, still sitting in
its spot on his dresser, and he smiled up at her. "Merry
Christmas, by the way, Scully."

Her smile was small, but her eyes danced with amusement.
"Thank you," she said. "Merry Christmas to you, too."

=====END=====


Hmmmm ... left that gift exchange thread hanging now,
didn't I? Well, maybe I'll find time for a New Year's
sequel ... <g>

And Merry Christmas, everyone!! :)

==========

"Just because it's positive and good doesn't make
it silly or trite." -- Melissa Scully, "One Breath"

==========

Gimme a B! Gimme an F! Gimme an M!
http://homepages.infoseek.com/~bfmarchive

==========

Find Xanadu at http://shannono.simplenet.com/