"All I Want for Christmas" by Gemma Kingsley
(gkingsley@hotmail.com)

Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully and the rest of the gang  belong 
to CC 'the surfer babe', 1013 and Fox.  I mean them no 
harm and I promise that I'll give them back when I'm done.

Rating: PG-13

Classification: S, H, R (MSR)

Summary: A Magical Christmas Mystery.

Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance

Archive: Yep, anywhere you want!

Spoilers: Itty bitty ones for PMP and Christmas Carol.
I haven't seen any of Season 6 yet, so apologies if what 
I've written doesn't fit with what's happened so far.

** Chestnut Hill is a real place, but I'm sure it's not at all
like I've imagined.  I just picked it because it was in the 
right area and I liked the name. **

Feedback: All =I= want for Christmas is feedback please!
(Gemma at gkingsley@hotmail.com)


*** And of course thank you, thank you a million times 
over to my beta readers Brandon, Ellen and Kristen!
Everyone on the newsgroup who told me that beta
readers were fabulous can gloat now because you
were right! ***




"All I Want For Christmas" Part 1 by Gemma Kingsley
(gkingsley@hotmail.com)


December 20, 1999
O'Brien Residence
Chestnut Hill, MA

     "Dear Santa," she wrote out painstakingly with her favorite 
red crayon.  The 'r' was back-to-front and the writing in 
general was rather shaky, but she didn't notice such small 
defects.  Presumably the intended recipient, famed for his 
jollity and goodwill, wouldn't be bothered by these tiny 
faults in presentation either.
     The end of her pink tongue peeked out the side of her 
mouth as she scrunched up her little face in concentration and 
tried to decide what to write next.
     "I don't need you to bring me any presents this year okay."  
Did 'year' have an 'e' on the end?  She couldn't quite 
remember, but thought it might.  Adding the extra 
letter, she regarded the word critically.  No, that was all 
wrong.  Firmly, she crossed the second 'e' out.
     "Because my big brother is lost and I want you to find 
him please.  His name is Jamie."  This was the most 
important part of the letter and she spent more time than 
usual in trying to make sure her letters were regular and neat.
'Because' was a difficult word, but she scripted it 
confidently, having spelled it correctly in a test only two days 
ago.
     Was that it?  Jamie had helped her with last year's letter, 
but he wasn't here now of course.  Oh wait, there was one 
more thing she needed to add.
     "I've been very good and I didn't even cry when that big 
black dog from across the road barked at me last week."  She 
smiled to herself and nodded her head emphatically.  If 
getting over her fear of large black dogs wasn't convincing 
proof that she deserved the very special present she sought, 
then there was nothing more to be done.
     The room was quiet now that the crinkle of paper and the 
scratching of the crayon had ceased.  As it did every night, 
the grandfather clock downstairs was striking the hour of 
eight p.m. with sonorous chimes.
     The creaking of the third step from the top announced 
the impending arrival of her mother, and she quickly 
scribbled her name at the bottom of the letter.  Then in one 
deft move she hid it under her pillow and pulled a 
picture book at random from the shelf by the side of her 
bed.  It was going to be her special surprise when Santa sent 
Jamie home for Christmas, so she didn't want her Mom to 
know about it yet.
     The woman who now stood in the bedroom's doorway
looked upon the scene through red-rimmed eyes.  "It's time 
for bed now, sweetheart." She managed, with only a slight 
tremor in her voice.  Mechanically smoothing down the 
bedclothes, she took the book from her daughter's hands 
and replaced it on the shelf.
     "G'night Mom."
     "Goodnight, baby.  Sleep well."
     The little girl pouted at this term of endearment, which 
she disliked, having reached the grand old age of six, but 
her mother had already turned to shut off the light.
     She waited until the sound of her mother's footsteps had 
receded, then counted to fifty, as high as she could add up.  
Assured that her mother wouldn't be returning anytime 
soon, she pulled out the flashlight that had been conveniently 
hidden under the covers and retrieved the letter from its 
temporary home beneath her pillow.  The flashlight had 
been Jamie's, but he'd given it to her when their grandmother 
had sent him a new and more deluxe model for his tenth 
birthday.
     The paper was slightly crumpled from its sojourn under 
the pillow, but she calmly evened out the creases and 
regarded her accomplishment with self-satisfaction.
     Checking it one last time, she shone the light on each
word in turn and quietly read them aloud to herself:

     "Dear Santa,

      I don't need you to bring me any presents this year okay.  
Because my big brother is lost and I want you to find him 
please.  His name is Jamie.  I've been very good and I didn't 
even cry when that big black dog from across the road 
barked at me last week,

     Love Amy.
        xxx

     It was perfect, she decided; but now came the hard part.
Slipping out of her warm bed she flinched as an icy draft bit 
cruelly at her toes.  With the letter grasped firmly in one 
hand, and the flashlight in the other, she carefully opened 
her bedroom door, wincing at the high-pitched squeal the 
hinges gave out.  She paused to see if she'd been detected, 
her heart pounding crazily overtime like the wheels on a
runaway train.  But the lower level of the house 
remained mercifully silent and her heart-rate gradually 
slowed to a normal level.
     Tiptoeing down the carpeted staircase she avoided that 
perennially creaky third top stair and safely made it to the 
bottom.  She poked her head into the front hallway, looked 
left and right as though about to cross the road, then darted 
quickly into the sitting room.  Breathing a sigh of relief as 
she realized she'd reached her destination, she shut off the 
flashlight.  The blaze that still burned merrily in the fire 
place provided more than enough light by which to perform 
her self-appointed task.
     The flickering fire cast strange and wonderful silhouettes
on the wall, suggestive of demonic shadow puppets, but she 
ignored them as she crossed slowly to stare into the dancing 
flames themselves.  Please, she thought.  Please, please let 
this work.  Placing the flashlight on the floor she folded 
the letter in half, and then in half again.  Its size was 
now only slightly larger than her own hand, and she gripped 
it tightly.
     With two fingers on her other hand crossed for luck,
and holding her breath in apprehension, she threw the piece 
of paper into the fire before she could change her mind.  
She half-expected it to be consumed by the flames, but 
instead it flew straight up the chimney and she grinned in 
euphoric delight at her success.  Grabbing the flashlight 
she scurried back upstairs and leapt into bed, tugging the 
covers up to her chin to keep out the winter chill.
     "I did it, Jamie." she whispered into the darkness.  
"You'll be home soon.  I know you will."

                            * * *

December 22, 1999
Mulder and Scully's Office
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington D.C.

     "Mulder, I don't believe this." Scully said, her tone a mix
of exasperation and, well, disbelief.  A new case, three days
before Christmas?  This has got to be a joke.  At least it
damned well better be.
     "Oh, you're getting better at this." He laughed dryly.  "I 
haven't even told you what the case is about and already 
you're skeptical."
     "Very funny."  Scully was not amused.  "Don't aliens, 
mutants and mad scientists," she paused to gesture vaguely 
at some of the pictures adorning the walls, "have homes to go 
to for Christmas too?"
     "Apparently not."  He handed her a photo.  "This is James 
O'Brien.  He was kidnapped from his home almost a 
month ago."
     Scully looked at the photo.  The boy was giving a wide 
gap-toothed grin into the camera lens.  "Kidnapped or
'abducted'?" she asked suspiciously.  If this is some alien 
wild goose-chase, Mulder, you're on your own, she resolved.
     "Kidnapped.  The main suspect was his father.  He
lost custody of both children after a messy divorce finalized
in late September, and Mrs. O'Brien told an officer 
investigating the kidnapping that her ex-husband had 
threatened on more than one occasion to take his son by force."
     "So where do we come in?"
     "Yesterday morning, James O'Brien was found alive 
and well in his own bed.  Not a scratch on him." Mulder said.
     Scully looked at the photo again.  "After a month?  That's
very unusual.  I mean, it's great news, but.."
     "Wait, it gets better." Mulder insisted.  "The same
evening, a man was arrested in a house two blocks over from 
the O'Brien house for trespassing."
     "Trespassing?" Scully asked, taking the mug-shot he 
handed her and looking at the stout, elderly man with a thick
gray beard.  "What's the link?"
     "In his pocket he had a letter written by Amy O'Brien, 
James' younger sister.  The investigating officers deemed that
enough evidence to bring James in, and he identified
the man."
     "As his kidnapper?"
     "No." Mulder shook his head emphatically.  "As his 
rescuer."
     "Really?"  Scully asked, eyeing the photo doubtfully.
     "Yep.  According to James' statement, he came down the
chimney in the middle of the night."
     "Down the chimney, Mulder?  But.."
     "Hang on, you haven't heard the best part yet.  When he 
was arrested and fingerprinted, he also had to give his name 
and address of course." Mulder said.
     "And?"  Scully demanded, becoming rather frustrated by 
Mulder's delaying tactics.  This had better be good.
     His expression carefully neutral, he handed her a piece of
paper.  Scully peered at the two lines of writing it held.

     Santa Claus, Esquire.
     c/o The North Pole

     "Oh good one, Mulder." She smirked, dropping the piece
of paper onto his cluttered desk.  "You really had me going
there for a minute.  Score one for you, partner."
     She waited for him to laugh and admit his joke, but he
simply retrieved the discarded paper and looked at her
steadily.
     "You're joking, right?  This is some kind of  'let's-put-
one-over-on-Scully' Christmas prank, isn't it?" Scully asked, 
more uncertainly.
     Mulder shook his head slowly.
     Oh God, please let this be some nightmare that I'm about 
to wake up from.  "Mulder, are you seriously suggesting we 
fly all the way up to New England to investigate some 
lunatic who thinks he's =Santa Claus=?"
     "Even the psychiatrist, Dr. Chapman, who's been called in
on the case admits there's not actually anything wrong with him."
Mulder pointed out.
     "Nothing wrong?" Scully asked.  Hello, Mulder, this guy
thinks he's a mythical man who lives at the North Pole with 
a troupe of magical elves and you're saying this is normal?
     "Figuratively speaking that is." Mulder admitted.  "Look, 
Scully, how about we just fly up there, spend a couple of 
days checking out this guy's story, then come back to D.C. in 
time for Christmas?" Mulder suggested.  "And the New 
England area's beautiful in winter anyway, so it won't be a 
wasted trip even if it does turn out to be a hoax."
     "Beautiful or not beautiful, hoax or otherwise, there's no
way you'll get tickets this close to Christmas, so you might
as well forget about it." Scully pointed out confidently.  Thank
God for over-crowded airports during the holiday season.
     "Way ahead of you there." Mulder waved a pair of airline
tickets in front of her face.  "I called in a few favors, and
hey presto! here we go.  So whaddya say?"
     Damn, how does he always do that?  "Mulder, why do I 
get the distinct impression I'm going to regret hearing the 
words 'Santa Claus' and 'investigate' in the same sentence?"

                            * * *

3:30 a.m. December 23
United Airlines Flight UA 0120
29, 000 feet

     Hearing the drunken Christmas carols and other revelry
emanating from Business Class as he made his way back
from the airplane toilet, Mulder was glad for probably the 
first time in his career that the Bureau was too cheap to 
spring for anything other than Economy.
     Although it looked like Scully'd picked up some
Christmas spirit somewhere along the line too, if the animated 
conversation she was holding with the blonde-haired man 
across the aisle was any indication.  She'd been sleeping
when he'd got up to use the facilities, and he was none too 
pleased by this new development.
     Accidentally on purpose kicking the guy's legs as he 
stepped over them, well what does he expect if he leaves 
them out in the aisle like that?, Mulder took as long as 
possible to squeeze past Scully into his window seat, until 
she finally got fed up and gave him a none-too-gentle shove 
on the backside.
     "Go back to sleep, Mulder." She almost-hissed between
her teeth.
     Not on your life, Scully.  "No.  I want to meet your 
new friend." He insisted.  Being difficult on purpose, he 
leaned right over Scully until he was practically draped 
across her lap so that he could shake hands with their new 
acquaintance.
     Scully sighed and rolled her eyes at her partner's sudden 
and not-at-all-subtle possessiveness.
     "Fox Mulder."
     "Michael Shaw." The man-across-the-aisle introduced
himself.  "Dana was just telling me she's a medical doctor."
     "Oh yes." Mulder replied, with unusual jocularity.  "And
a Grade A forensic pathologist to boot.  Comes in very handy 
in our line of work what with all the corpses we're always
happening upon."  He noted with glee that Scully's admirer
didn't seem quite so eager anymore.
     "And what line is that, Mr. Mulder?"
     "FBI." Mulder told him.  "Ya know, bang, bang, shoot
to kill and all that.  You should see =Dana= with a gun in her 
hand.  Pretty amazing, if you know what I mean." He winked 
at the man who was suddenly yawning ostentatiously and 
pulling his blanket up over his knees.
     "Well, goodnight Dana, Mr. Mulder.  It was nice to meet 
you."  He closed his eyes and Mulder smiled with 
satisfaction.  I sure showed him.
     Leaning back into his own seat, he was met with a 
painfully sharp elbow in the ribs from his partner.
     "Ow!  What was that for, Scully?" He demanded, rubbing
the site of his injury.
     "What do you think it was for?" She whispered 
sarcastically.  "Thanks a lot."
     "You're welcome, Scully."  Anytime.

                            * * *

8:30 a.m. December 23
O'Brien Residence
Chestnut Hill, MA

     Dana Scully was not in a good mood.  The last two or 
so hours had been spent in maneuvering their rustbucket of 
a rental car along winding roads made increasingly 
treacherous by persistent sleet.  And before that, she'd had 
to endure the redeye from Washington Dulles to Logan 
International, Boston.  One of her least favorite modes of 
transport at the best of times, redeyes were even worse this 
close to Christmas when flights that might be half-empty for the 
rest of the year were suddenly full to the brim.  Any hope she'd 
maintained of getting some sleep on the plane had been 
destroyed by a combination of turbulence and Mulder's 
restlessness, and on top of that, her suitcase was missing.  
Just the Christmas present for which she'd been wishing.
     Glaring at her partner, who lounged against the ivy-
covered verandah railing, she rapped sharply on the front
door.  A young boy opened it, and Scully's expression
softened.  She recognized Jamie O'Brien from his photo, and
remembered that most kidnappings don't end as well as this 
one had.
     "Hi.  I'm Dana Scully, from the FBI.  Is your Mom in?"
Scully asked.
     "Are you really an FBI Agent?" Jamie asked excitedly.
     Scully smiled.  "Uh huh."
     "Can I see your badge?"
     "Sure." She held out the leather wallet that contained her ID
and badge and Jamie stared in admiration.
     "Do you have a gun?" He asked.
     "Yes."
     "Can I see it?"
     "Maybe later." Scully said, amused by Jamie's constant
stream of questions.
     "Who's that?" Jamie seemed to be noticing Mulder for
the first time.
     "That's my partner, Agent Mulder." Scully explained.
Partner?  Did I say 'partner'?  Because I meant 'pain in the ass'.
     "Does he talk?"
     Scully glanced over her shoulder.  "Yes.  Usually way too
much."
     Mulder grinned unrepentantly, and Scully turned back to 
the door as Mrs. O'Brien appeared behind her son.
     "Fox Mulder.  We spoke on the phone." Scully's pain-in-
the-ass partner said, stepping forward.
     "Yes, of course." Mrs. O'Brien said.  "Jamie, you shouldn't
have left these nice people standing out in the cold."
     Mulder and Scully followed her into the sitting room
while Jamie disappeared upstairs to his own pursuits.

     "Eggnog?" Mrs. O'Brien offered.
     "We can't while we're working." Scully said.
     "Oh, of course.  It doesn't seem right that you two have to
work this close to Christmas."  She commented, pouring
herself a glass.
     Scully shot her partner a pointed look which he pretended 
to ignore while studiously examining the geometrical patterns in 
the carpet.
     "So, Mrs.  O'Brien," Scully began, hoping to get straight 
to the point.
     "Please, call me Julia." She requested.  "O'Brien's my ex-
husband's name."  The way she said 'ex-husband' made him sound
more like a particularly nasty-smelling piece of refuse than a 
living, breathing human being.
     "Ok, Julia, we understand James doesn't seem to be 
suffering any ill-effects from his kidnapping.  Is that right?"
     "Yes, it was a miracle - his return.  I'd all but given up 
hope."  Noticing Scully's raised eyebrow she elaborated, 
"He's a violent man, my ex-husband.  That's why he was 
denied even visitation rights."
     "He abused you?" Scully asked gently.
     Julia nodded, her fingers clenched around the glass in her 
hands.
     "And the children?"
     "No, but I was always terrified they'd be next."
     "And your ex-husband, George O'Brien, he was the main 
suspect in James' kidnapping?" Mulder interjected.
     "Yes.  He still had keys to this place.  It was stupid of me 
not to change the locks, I know, but I hadn't heard anything 
from him since the divorce was finalized, and I assumed he'd 
given up and gone away somewhere.  Have they caught him yet?" 
Julia queried hopefully.
     Scully shook her head.  "But we're still looking."
     "And what about that man?  The one who rescued Jamie.
The one who thinks he's 'Santa Claus'." Julia asked.  "He
won't go to jail, will he?"
     "No, I shouldn't think so.  Most likely he'll be taken
somewhere he can get some help." Scully explained.
     "It's sad, isn't it?" Julia helped herself to another glass of
eggnog.  "I wonder where his family is?  No one should be
alone at Christmas.  I wish there was something I could do to
help him."
     "Mrs., excuse me, Julia, you don't need to worry about 
him.  We'll be speaking to him later, and we'll make sure he's
taken care of properly." Scully assured her.  "It sounds like
he's a confused, old man, possibly with Alzheimer's Disease, 
or some form of dementia."
     "Either that or he really is Santa Claus." Mulder put in
irrepressibly.
     Scully frowned at him, but fortunately Julia assumed he 
was joking and laughed brightly.
     "Julia," Scully said, giving her partner a warning look,
"could we have a few words with your son please."
     "Of course, of course." She agreed, putting down her
empty glass.  Stepping out of the room, she called up
the stairs, "Jamie, could you come down here please?"

     "Mulder, what was with that Santa Claus comment?" 
Scully whispered in mild exasperation while their hostess 
was out of the room.
     "Just exploring all the possibilities." He replied 
innocuously.  You never know.

     "Sweetie, these are Agents Mulder and Scully from the 
FBI.  I'd like you to answer all their questions carefully, 
okay?" His mother instructed him.
     "I know who they are, Mom." He said, rolling his eyes.
"I talked to Agent Scully before and she has a badge and a
gun and everything.  And you know what?  I'm going to
be an FBI Agent too when I grow up!"
     "Jamie, could you tell us about the man who rescued 
you?" Mulder asked him, amused by the boy's enthusiasm.
     Jamie nodded.  "He was old.  Even older than you."
     Scully stifled a smile.
     "And he had a gray beard, and he came down the chimney,
and he was Santa Claus."
     "Jamie, aren't you a little old to be believing in Santa 
Claus?" Scully asked him.  "You're ten aren't you?"
     "I'm almost eleven." He corrected her.  "And I didn't
believe until now.  But this wasn't some guy dressed up in 
a fake beard and a red suit.  This was the real thing.  And he
could really do magic too."
     "What kind of magic did he do?" Mulder was interested
and didn't remember anything about this being in the 
statement Jamie had given.
     "Promise you won't think I'm being stupid, or making it
up and stuff."
     "I promise." Mulder said solemnly.
     And he probably will believe it too, Scully thought 
exasperatedly, and now we'll never get back to D.C. for
Christmas.
     "We flew." Jamie revealed with barely restrained 
excitement.  "Right out of that place I was locked up in.
And the next thing I remember is when I woke up the next 
morning in my own bed and Mom was standing there 
crying."
     Mulder leaned back in his chair.  Maybe there was
even more to this case than he'd originally thought.  Before
he could continue this line of questioning, a small head
covered in tousled blond curls looked around the doorway.
     "That's my little sister." Jamie told them.  "Come
here, Amy."  She trotted amicably into the room at the
request of her brother and sat down on the floor with a bump 
at her mother's feet.
     "That's a very pretty doll you have there." Scully said.
     Amy didn't say anything, but she smiled shyly at the
female Agent.
     "Amy, do you recognize this?" Mulder asked, taking her 
letter out of its plastic covering.
     She pulled her thumb out of her mouth and dropped the 
doll, reaching for the letter that Mulder held.
     "Ask Agent Mulder if you can have it." Julia reproved 
her young daughter.
     "Can I have it, Agent Muld-Mald..." Her tongue stumbled 
over the unfamiliar syllables.
     "Mulder." Her mother prompted.
     "Sure you can," Mulder said, passing the letter to the 
small girl.
     "That's mine." Amy announced, once she had it in her
hands.
     "Did you make it all by yourself?" Scully asked.
     "Uh huh.  Just like Jamie showed me last time."
     "And then what happened?  Did you give it to an old 
man?"
     "No leading the witness, Scully." Mulder admonished her.
"What did you do with the letter when you'd finished it?" He
asked Amy.
     "I put it in the fire, and it went whoosh! up the chimney."
She explained, with accompanying hand movements.  "And 
then Santa sent Jamie back just like I asked."  She grabbed 
onto her brother's leg as if to be assured that he was really 
there and wasn't going away again.

     "Okay, I think that'll do for now." Scully told Julia O'Brien.
"We really appreciate your co-operation in this matter."
     "That's fine.  I'm just glad to have Jamie back in one
piece.  Let me know if you need anything else."  She 
showed the two Agents out and James and Amy waved from 
the window as Mulder and Scully walked down the driveway.
     "Scully, did you hear what he said?" Mulder asked eagerly,
as they trudged through the snow, his boots making deep
imprints in the crunchy fresh drifts.
     "Mulder, please don't start."  She wasn't faring so well
with her skirt and heels and thought longingly of the fur-lined
coat and walking boots packed in her missing luggage.  
"Could we at least get something to eat before you bring up 
any 'Santa is an alien' theories.  And I don't know how you 
think we're going to find anywhere to stay two days before 
Christmas.  Frankly a warm stable is looking better and 
better."
     "Relax, Scully." Mulder assured her.  "I've got it covered.

                            * * *

End of Part 1.



"All I Want For Christmas" (2/4) MSR
From: Gemma Kingsley <gkingsley@hotmail.com>

11 a.m.
Hill View Guest Houses
Chestnut Hill, MA

     "Mulder, it's December 23rd.  There is absolutely no way
we're going to get rooms here." Scully insisted.
     "Oh ye of little faith.  I got the plane tickets, didn't I?  And 
I can do this too."  He'd just raised his hand to knock again 
when the door opened suddenly.  The slim brunette who stood 
there took one look at him then threw herself into his arms.
     "Fox Mulder, I was beginning to think you weren't
coming!"
     Scully's jaw dropped.  Who the Hell was this woman to
be greeting Mulder with such familiarity?  And the fact that 
Mulder was returning the gesture with enthusiasm hadn't 
escaped her notice either.
     "Oh, I'm sorry." The woman said, letting go of Mulder
to grasp Scully's hand in between her two mittened-ones
and shake it vigorously.  "You must be Dana Scully.  I've
heard so much about you."
     "Oh?" Scully asked, throwing a curious glance towards
Mulder.  "I'm afraid I can't say the..."
     The woman cut her off.  "Now why doesn't that surprise
me?  Of course Mulder and I were just friends twenty-five
or so years ago, whereas from what I hear, you and Mulder
are..."
     Mulder abruptly elbowed her in the side before she could
say anymore.  "Thank you Sarah, that'll do for now.  Do you 
suppose we could come inside?"
     "My goodness, I didn't mean to be chattering on for so 
long.  You're probably both freezing out there, and hungry 
too, I wouldn't be surprised."
     Scully shook the melting snowflakes from her hair as
they followed =Sarah= inside.  Who was this woman?  And
didn't she ever shut up?
     As if to prove Scully's theory correct, Sarah was at it 
again as soon as the door closed behind them.  "I never 
properly introduced myself, did I?" She said to Scully.  "I'm 
Sarah Chapman.  Mulder and I went to school together on 
the Vineyard."
     Chapman, Scully thought to herself as Mulder hung his 
trenchcoat on a hook near the door.  Where have I heard that 
name recently?  Suddenly it came to her.  
     "Chapman, as in =Dr.= Chapman, the psychiatrist assigned 
to the case we're here to investigate?" She whispered to 
Mulder as Sarah led them down the hall.  "How come you 
didn't tell me back in D.C. that you knew her?"
     "It didn't come up." He rationalized quickly.  "Now since
I happen to know that Sarah's Mom makes the best
gingerbread cookies for miles around, I suggest we move our 
asses into the kitchen."

     The gingerbread cookies were amazing, Scully had 
to admit a few minutes later.  She was just starting on her 
second, savoring the firm consistency and spicy taste that 
certainly outranked any store-bought product.  Mulder had 
wolfed down four as though they were going out of style and 
was currently sitting next to the fire, engaged in an 
apparently intimate conversation with Sarah.
     Scully bit her lip and let the half-eaten piece of 
gingerbread drop back onto the plate.  Suddenly it didn't 
taste quite so good.

     "If you're not busy, Dana, could you give me a hand
at peeling these potatoes?" Mrs. Chapman asked,
perceptively noting the direction of Scully's gaze.  "Dinner
for so many guests always takes quite a bit of preparation."
     "Sure." Scully picked up the spare potato peeler, glad
to have her mind taken off the whispers and quiet laughter
coming from the corner of the room.  "It must be difficult
always having so many people to look after, especially at 
Christmas." She said, politely making conversation.
     "Well, there are good days and bad days, like any other
job I suppose.  It was a lot less work when my husband was
alive, of course." Mrs. Chapman revealed, deftly paring the 
potatoes at a rapid speed.  "But some of our guests come 
back year after year, and they start to feel like family
themselves.  After all, Christmas is a time for family, isn't 
it?"
     Scully smiled tightly and Mrs. Chapman instantly felt 
remorseful.  "I'm sorry, Dana, I wasn't thinking.  You'd
probably much rather be spending Christmas with your family 
than here with us."
     "No, that's alright." Scully reassured her, head bent 
steadfastly over the bowl of potatoes so that her expression 
wasn't visible.  "My Mom's flown over to San Diego to be with 
my older brother and his family.  But Bill and I don't get along
that well, so..."  Scully paused.  Usually not a confiding 
soul, for some reason she felt entirely comfortable sharing 
all this with Mrs. Chapman.  "Well, anyway, I didn't have 
definite plans for this year."
     "Hmmm," said Mrs. Chapman, placing the last peeled
potato back in the bowl, "now that's something I'd more 
likely expect to be hearing from Fox."
     "What's that, Lucy?" Mulder asked, getting up from his
seat at the fireplace.  "You girls aren't gossiping about me,
are you?"  He shot them a look of calculated mischief which 
Scully pointedly ignored and Mrs. Chapman reacted to by 
laughingly tossing him a dishcloth and an injunction to dry 
the dishes and keep his nose out of trouble.
     Again Scully wondered exactly how close Mulder was to
these people.  Teasing and laughter seemed staples of this
household, and she'd never have guessed that her partner
would respond so well to that kind of atmosphere.  A heavy 
knock at the door cut short her thoughts.
     "That must be Jeff!" Sarah called, rushing out of the 
kitchen to get the door.
     "So, Mulder, Dana, since you're spending Christmas here,
will you be coming to the town Christmas party?  It's quite 
the Chestnut Hill social event of the year, as Mulder is well 
aware." Mrs. Chapman said.
     "Oh, we were actually hoping to get the case wrapped up
this afternoon and head back to D.C. in the morning." Mulder
explained.  "So I don't think..."
     "You must be joking." Mrs. Chapman told them, getting
up to see what was taking Sarah so long in answering the 
door.  "Haven't you been listening to the weather reports?"
     Their disconcerted expressions indicated a negative
response to her question.
     "We're expecting a regular nor'easter," she explained,
"six or more inches of snow overnight and probably
more in the morning.  I doubt you'll be able to fly
out of Logan tomorrow.  But don't worry," Mrs. Chapman 
assured them, noting their concern, "there are rooms here for 
the two of you as long as you need them."
     "Damn." Mulder gave Scully an apologetic look.  "I'm
really sorry.  I'd forgotten how severe the winter storms can
be up here.  Do you need to call your Mom and tell her you
won't be able to make it?"
     "Um, no, that's alright.  I called before we left to let
her know where I'd be."  Noting a fleeting expression of 
surprise on Mrs. Chapman's face at this exchange, Scully
was relieved that Mulder faced away from the other woman.
     "Okay then, that's.."  Whatever else Mulder was going to 
say was lost as Sarah returned, entering the room in mid-
sentence.
     "...and so I told him it was dangerous and that no one
ever went tobogganing on that hill because it was way too
steep, but Mulder didn't listen of course."
     "Oh please, no embarrassing stories about my childhood." 
Mulder appealed, stepping towards Sarah to shut her up.  
But Scully grasped his hands and pulled him down onto the 
chair next to her.
     "Quiet, Mulder, I want to hear this."  She tried to pull
her hands out of his once they were sitting down, but
Mulder wouldn't let go, so she relaxed after a moment and 
left them where they were.
     Sarah grinned.  "So he hauled that toboggan all the way 
to the top, then shot down the hill as if he'd been fired out 
of a cannon." She related to her rapt audience.  "Everything
was going fine until he got about half way down, the
toboggan hit a rock, and Mulder got tossed out.  But with 
that much momentum, he didn't stop, instead rolling all 
the way to the bottom of the hill where he ended up covered 
in snow from head to foot."
     Scully laughed along with the others at this image of
her partner as a living snowman and Mulder threatened
to retaliate with stories of Sarah's 'misspent' youth.
     "You know I think we still have a toboggan somewhere
around, Mulder, if you feel the need to recreate the event."
Mrs. Chapman offered.
     "Whaddya think Scully?  You trust me enough to share
a toboggan?" Mulder asked.
     "What happened to the case we're supposed to be 
investigating?" Scully reminded him.

     "Oh, that's right." Sarah pushed the most recent arrival
to the center of the room.  "Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, this is 
Jeff Fraser.  He's from the Bureau in Boston."
     Mulder reluctantly let go of Scully's hands to stand and
greet their fellow Agent.
     "Sorry I wasn't here earlier." Jeff said.  "When I woke up 
this morning, my car was buried under a whole heap of snow 
and it took me the best part of an hour to shovel it out."
     "Don't worry about it." Mulder said.  "We made it
here just fine and Mrs. Chapman's been regaling us with
gingerbread cookies ever since."
     "Any left for me, Mrs. Chapman?" Jeff asked, hopefully.
     "Of course." She said, pushing one into each hand as
he grinned.
     "So are you ready to go?" He asked his fellow agents.
To Sarah: "I can give you a ride if you like, so you don't 
have to bring your car out."
     "And leave Mulder to get himself thoroughly lost?"
Sarah smirked.  "Not likely.  But why doesn't Dana ride with 
you?  That way we can meet up at the local PD."
     "Sure."  Jeff agreed, smothering his disappointment at 
Sarah's refusal.  "This way Agent Scully."

                            * * *

     "So?" Sarah asked expectantly.
     "So what?" Mulder returned, taking his eyes off the road
for a second to glance at her.
     "So spill the beans about your partner."
     "What do you want to know?" He asked, suddenly
avoiding his old friend's penetrating gaze.  "Scully is...."
God, how do I even begin to describe her?  "Well, she's...
Scully."
     "Oh come on, Mulder, don't be obtuse.  You know
damned well that every one of the much-too-infrequent 
letters you write us is filled with 'Scully said this', 'Scully
did that'.  I'm not stupid, you know.  Or blind." She added.
     "Blind?"
     "Then it's usual for FBI partners to hold hands is it?"
Sarah asked innocently.  "I wonder if Jeff knows about that
regulation."
     "Sarah, you wouldn't...."
     "Wouldn't I?"  Mulder regarded her steadily.  "Okay,
maybe I wouldn't." She admitted.  "But I still want to hear
what's going on with you two."
     "Well what do you want me to say?"  Mulder asked, 
frustrated with Sarah's persistence.  "That I'm madly in
love with Dana Scully but desperately afraid to tell her in
case: a) it ruins our friendship, b) she doesn't feel the same
way, c) the Bureau splits us up and I lose the best partner
I could ever imagine having, d) well I haven't thought of a d)
yet, but I'm sure there is one, along with an e), an f), a g)
...are you getting the picture yet?"
     "I think telling her that would be a good start." Sarah
said, grinning.  For an FBI Agent, Mulder sure wasn't 
much good at keeping secrets.  "And I even have the perfect
place for you: the town Christmas party that Mom reminded 
you about.  Ply her with champagne, hold her close as you 
dance, then whisk her under the mistletoe...so whaddya 
think?"
     "I think you should mind your own business, that's
what." Mulder replied.  "Subtle you are not, Sarah Chapman,
and the last thing I want is to have Scully's Christmas
spoiled by your matchmaking games."
     "You worry too much." Sarah told him, shaking her head
ruefully.  Does he ever!  "I can be subtle when I feel like it.  
I swear she won't notice a thing."  And you're not going to
notice that I have my fingers crossed behind my back, are
you?
     "She'd better not." Mulder insisted as they pulled up at
the police station, Jeff and Scully right behind them.
     "Scout's Honor." Sarah said, saluting primly.
     "If you'd ever tried to join the Girl Scouts, you would
have been expelled." Mulder teased.
     "Shows what you know!" Sarah countered.  "No one gets 
expelled from the Girl Scouts."
     "Well for you I'm sure they would have made an 
exception."

                            * * *

1:45 p.m. December 23
Police Station
Chestnut Hill, MA

     "The truth is, I don't know what to believe." Sarah
declared.  "I've interviewed him once, twice, a third time 
and he still sticks to his story.  I can't even catch him out 
with minor inconsistencies."
     "And his excuse for trespassing at the Evans residence on 
December 21st was...?" Scully asked, as she skimmed
through the file.
     "That he was delivering a gift.  A Beanie Baby, to be 
exact."  Jeff clarified, laying the fur toy on the table.
     Mulder smothered a smile.  "Starting early this year to 
avoid the Christmas rush, was he?" He suggested.
     Not quite sure whether or not Mulder was joking, Jeff
looked to Scully for help.
     "Did he have any explanation for why Amy O'Brien's
letter was in his pocket?  Or about James O'Brien's
mysterious re-appearance?" Scully asked.
     "Just that Amy had sent the letter to him, and that he gave 
her what she wanted." Jeff explained.
     "So he admitted that he'd rescued James." Mulder asked.
     "But he couldn't explain either how he knew where to find
James, or how he got him out of there." Sarah pointed out.
     "Couldn't or wouldn't?" 
     "Remember," Mulder said, addressing his partner, "James 
did tell us they =flew= out of wherever they were."
     "Mulder, you're not really suggesting something
supernatural here.." Scully's voice trailed off.  The trouble 
with her partner being that it was quite possible, nay probable, 
that the involvement of supernatural elements was exactly
the theory he was propounding.
     "I'm not sure what to believe yet." Mulder said, his words
offering Scully a little reassurance.  "But I would like to 
interrogate =him= for myself."
     "Sure." Sarah agreed.  "I don't mind you taking a crack at 
him.  But I wouldn't hold your breath if I were you.  Either
this guy has somehow managed to convince himself that he's
Santa Claus, or maybe he..."  She cut herself off, aware how 
what she was about to say would sound, but then took a deep 
breath and continued anyway, "or maybe he really is Santa 
Claus."
     Scully groaned inwardly at Sarah's last statement.  This 
whole case was becoming even more ridiculous than she'd
first imagined and the last thing Mulder needed was more
encouragement.  Likening Christmas Spirit to a drug, she
thought to herself that Mulder and Sarah had been seriously 
OD'ing.

                            * * *

Interrogation Room
Local Police Dept.
Chestnut Hill, MA

     "Am I being accused of something?" The man asked
before Mulder and Scully could even sit down.
     "No, we're just making some further inquiries," Scully
assured him, "Mr. uh.."
     "Mr. Claus, or just Santa is fine.  Or even Nick if that 
makes you more comfortable." He offered.
     "Nick?" Scully jumped at the sudden possibility of 
normality.
     "As in Saint Nick, Saint Nicholas, you know?" He
said.  "That's how I ended up with the name Santa Claus.  
You say Saint Nicholas over and over twenty times and see 
what happens."
     Mulder had actually opened his mouth and was on the verge
of trying it out until Scully's warning look changed his mind.
     "Mr. 'Claus'," Scully began, slightly uncomfortable at
playing into the man's delusions.  "Could you tell us what
you're doing in Chestnut Hill?"
     "Well it certainly wasn't a pleasure trip." Santa Claus
explained.  "Not even a planned stop, for that matter.  But
the fact is, I had to put down in the pine forest on the east
of town because I was having sleigh trouble."
     "Excuse me?" Scully interrupted him.  Did he really just 
say what I thought he said?  "Sleigh trouble?"
     "Unfortunately, yes.  Mrs. Claus has been on at me to
replace it for years, maybe even with a motorized model,
but I can't quite bring myself to let the reindeer go." Santa
Claus said.  "But I miscalculated the landing angle slightly,
and ended up with quite a bump on the head.  When I came
to, the sleigh and the reindeer were gone, and all I had with
me was Amy O'Brien's letter and the Beanie Baby for little 
Cassie Evans."
     "Yes, the letter." Scully said, focusing on the one aspect
that she could be sure wasn't the product of an eggnog-
induced delusion.  Of course, that would be assuming she'd 
actually consumed any of Mrs. O'Brien's eggnog.  Which in fact,
she hadn't.  "Can you explain how you got hold of it, and how 
you were able to return James O'Brien to his home?"
     "Come now, Dana, you can't expect me to give away all
my secrets." Santa Claus responded mysteriously.
     Scully rubbed her eyes wearily, more than willing to let
Mulder take over for the time being.  Flukeman and liver
eating mutants she could handle; with Santa Claus she was 
slightly out of her league.
     "Mr. Claus...Nick," Mulder said amicably, "if Chestnut
Hill wasn't, as you put it 'a planned stop', how is it that you 
just happened to have Amy O'Brien's letter in your pocket."
     "It'd just come in with the early morning mail." Santa
Claus replied, not at all flustered by Mulder's question.  "I 
picked up the doll for Cassie Evans and planned to have one 
of the elves take care of both jobs in one go, but then I got 
caught up in taking the sleigh out for a dry run before the 
Big Day.  Didn't even realize I had them both with me
until I awoke in the pine forest.  But since I was in the area,
and temporarily without return transport, I decided to take 
care of the deliveries myself."
     "So what went wrong?" Mulder asked him.  "You must 
have been down how many chimneys?, and suddenly you 
get caught?"
     Scully rolled her eyes.  Come on, Mulder, you aren't
really buying this, are you?
     "Burglar alarms." Santa Claus said succinctly.  "I was
just looking for a good hiding place for the doll when I
activated one of those motion detectors.  Infra red beams or
whatever they are - Mrs. Claus would probably know - she's
the one who's interested in new technology, the Internet 
and all that kind of thing.  Even wants me to computerize
my 'naughty and nice' list, would you believe?"
     "Mr. Claus, do you have any kind of proof for your
allegations?"  Scully was cold and tired and wasn't in the 
mood to indulge someone who with every passing minute was 
sounding more and more like an escaped mental patient.  
"I mean, the sleigh, reindeer, =elves=.  All a bit 
farfetched."  Understatement of the decade.
     "Oh, Dana, Dana, always with the hard evidence."
Santa Claus rebuked her laughingly.  "Did you know, Mulder, 
when she was seven years old she wrote me a letter declaring 
that she wasn't going to believe in me any longer unless I 
supplied actual proof of my existence."
     Scully's eyes widened.  How the Hell had he known
about that?  She hadn't shown that letter to anyone and had 
forgotten all about it until just now.
     "And you, Fox Mulder," Santa Claus continued, "you'd 
stopped believing in me by the time you'd turned nine, but 
that didn't stop you wishing every night for that telescope 
you wanted even after your Dad had said it was too 
expensive.  Remember how your parents were just as 
surprised as you were when it turned up under the tree on 
Christmas Day?"
     Now it was Mulder's turn to stare openmouthed at Santa 
Claus.  He did remember the Christmas the man had spoken 
of, and his parents' reactions were exactly as described.  At 
the time he'd thought they just were pretending, but now...?
     He looked closely at the man calling himself Santa Claus.  
Up until this point, he'd simply been humoring him, amused 
by Scully's reactions to the story they were being fed and 
wondering how long it would go on for.  But this?  This was 
downright...spooky.
     "Any further questions?" Santa asked obligingly.
     Scully shook her head silently.  This was impossible.  It 
simply couldn't be real.  Santa Claus was a myth, a legend - a
story told to amuse children.  But that still didn't explain 
how on earth he'd known about the letter.

                            * * *

     "Oh there you are.  Jeff and I were about to head back.  
Did you have any luck?" Sarah asked hopefully.
     "Well he fed us a line about reindeer and sleigh trouble, if 
that's what you mean."  Scully revealed.  Boy did he ever - 
elves and all!  But now that she was out of the room, she 
could almost convince herself that Santa Claus and his story 
had been a dream.  Until Mulder came up behind her and 
interrupted that is.
     "What about the other thing," he cut in excitedly, "you
know, with the letters.  Did you really write a letter to Santa 
telling him to prove he was real, or else?"
     "So it was a lucky guess." Scully rationalized.
     "And the telescope?" Mulder prompted.  "Was that a 
lucky guess too?"
     "Probably." Scully said, dismissively.  The alternative
just didn't bear thinking about.  "I'm sure plenty of kids 
receive telescopes as Christmas presents.  Or maybe 
someone tipped him off." She theorized.

     Sarah smiled at their rapid-fire discussion, and judging
that her presence wasn't required any further, followed Jeff 
out to his car.

     "Yeah, or maybe.." Mulder stopped in mid-sentence,
distracted by a loud exclamation from the other side of 
the police station.
     "It was wearing a what?!" One of the local cops demanded 
in disbelief.  He listened for a few more seconds then 
slammed the phone down.  "Damned drunks."  He was heard 
to mutter under his breath.
     "What was that about?" Mulder asked, crossing the
station floor.
     "Huh?" The cop asked, looking up from a form he was 
filling out.  "Oh, nothing to worry about.  Just someone 
who'd been indulging rather too heavily and decided they 
were seeing things.  Happens all the time."
     "Seeing things?  Like what?" Mulder persisted.
     "Reindeer, would you believe?" The cop asked rhetorically, 
not even looking up from his paperwork this time.  "In the 
middle of Main Street, and wearing leather bridles hung with 
silver bells.  Now I've seen some strange things in my time, 
but if this story were for real, it would definitely take the 
cake."
     "Yeah well, we're heading back that way; you don't mind
if we stop and check it out, do you?" Mulder asked.  The 
local PD had been nothing but co-operative for a change, 
and he didn't want to ruin the rapport they'd developed by a
skirmish over jurisdiction.
     The cop shook his head, but eyed Mulder strangely.  "If
you wanna waste your time, far be it from me to rain on your
parade.  But I'm telling you, this is just some whacko who's
consumed way more than his daily allowance of eggnog."
     "Come on, Scully." Mulder called over his shoulder to his
partner.  "I think we might just have ourselves a lead."

                            * * *


End of Part 2


"All I Want For Christmas" (3/4) MSR
From: Gemma Kingsley <gkingsley@hotmail.com>



                            * * *

     "Where are we going?" Scully asked, having to jog to 
keep up with Mulder's rapid walk.
     "Main street."
     She came to a sudden halt.  "Uh, Mulder, Main Street's in
the other direction."
     "I knew that."  He said, making a graceful turn and 
heading back the way they'd come from.
     Sure you did, partner.

     Mulder stopped suddenly when he reached the corner, and
Scully almost crashed into his back.
     "Mulder, why did you..?" She began, then gaped as she
stared at Main Street.
     When they'd driven along it half an hour ago, Main Street
had been calm and quiet, traffic flowing smoothly and 
Christmas lights blinking on the sidewalks.  Now the place 
was a mess.  Horns blared and drivers leaned out of their 
windows and abused each other angrily.  Evidence that 
several collisions had already taken place was visible in the 
dented fender on one car and the crumpled hood and smashed 
headlights of another.  And in the midst of this chaos were 
the promised reindeer, plunging in panic from one side of 
the street to the other in an attempt to escape the 
pandemonium they'd unwittingly caused.
     Before Mulder and Scully could even begin to decide 
what to do, a large truck of the kind generally used to haul 
cattle drove up behind them; three men hopping out of the 
front.
     "Alright guys, round 'em up."  Two of the men moved 
towards the reindeer, menacingly brandishing the whips they 
held, and the third stepped towards Mulder and Scully.
     "Are you responsible for these animals, sir?" Scully 
demanded.  The man removed his cap and Scully exclaimed 
in surprise as she recognized the man from the airplane.  
"Mr. Shaw?  Are these your reindeer?"
     Shaw nodded.  "What a lovely surprise.  I didn't expect 
to see you here, Dana.  And you too," he said, 
acknowledging her partner, "Agent Muldrake, isn't it?"
     "Mulder." He corrected, giving the man his most insincere
smile and stepping even closer to Scully so that their elbows
were almost touching.
     "Right.  Anyway, I'm real sorry about the trouble I'm 
causing with these deer of mine.  They're part of a circus act, 
you see."  Shaw explained.  "Can't imagine how they got 
loose, but the boys'll have them rounded back up in no time
and we'll cover any damage they've caused of course."
     Mulder looked over to where the men were herding the 
reindeer into the truck and winced as the whips came down 
hard on the deer's backs.  He glanced back at Shaw to 
discover that he was also watching the loading of the truck, 
but his sharp blue eyes were as cold as the snow beneath 
their feet and expressed no compassion for the animals.
     "I think that about does it." Shaw said with
satisfaction as the last of the reindeer was driven onto the
truck.  "I'll be on my way," he told them, replacing his cap.  
"Sorry to have caused any trouble, Dana, Muldrake."  He 
nodded to each of the Agents then returned to his truck.
     "Didn't he say the animals were from a circus?" Mulder
asked, still irritated over Shaw's obviously intentional 
mutilation of his name.
     "Yeah, why?"
     Mulder gestured towards the side of the truck as it pulled
away.

     "Quartech Consolidated and Associates" it read.

     "'Cause I've never heard of a circus with a name like 
that."
     Scully raised her face heavenwards and blinked as a fat 
snowflake landed in her eye.  "Alright Mulder, we'll check 
them out.  But not tonight," she continued before he could 
interrupt.  "It's late, and I'm cold, wet and tired.  Personally I 
vote we head back to the Chapman's guest houses and hope 
to Hell Mrs. Chapman kept some dinner warm for us."

                            * * *

3 a.m. December 24, 1999
Hill View Guest Houses
Chestnut Hill, MA

     A door slammed, waking Scully from a deep and dreamless 
sleep.  In a fluid movement acquired through years of practice,
she reached for her gun and sat up in bed, listening 
carefully for the noise that had disturbed her.  She waited 
for a few moments, and when no further sounds followed, 
leaned over to replace her gun on the bedside table.  A 
high-pitched feminine giggle startled her, and she cursed 
under her breath as the gun slipped out of her hand to the 
floor.  Wrapping the blanket around herself to ward off the 
chill, she retrieved her gun and pondered whether or not she 
should go see what was going on.  Not that a giggle by 
itself was anything unusual, but it was the middle of the 
night after all, and if there was something wrong, Mulder
was in the room next door and would be available as back-
up.
     A series of low moans, more giggling and then a loud
creaking of bedsprings invaded her tired brain and Scully 
caught on to what was happening.  Returning to her bed she 
felt relieved that she hadn't walked into an embarrassing 
situation by deciding to investigate further.
     With the blankets pulled up to her chin, and on the verge
of reclaiming sleep despite the noise of the activities next
door, a sudden thought startled Scully awake once more and
again she came to a rapid sitting position.
     Wait a minute, Mulder was in the room next door?  Her 
lips thinned and she frowned angrily.  That jerk!  Old school 
friends, my ass!  And to think she'd actually bought that 
story.  Dammit Mulder!  What happened to professionalism?  
You're supposed to be working with her, not...not whatever 
it is you're doing now.  Refusing to analyze why the thought 
of Mulder and Sarah together bothered her so much, beyond 
the 'lack of professionalism' it displayed, Scully lay back 
down and covered her head with the pillow to block out the 
muffled sighs and groans coming through the walls.
     Well this was just turning out to be a great Christmas,
wasn't it?  Lost luggage, a delusional lunatic who thinks he's
Santa Claus, runaway reindeer wreaking havoc, and now 
=this=.  What next?

                            * * *

9:30 a.m. December 24, 1999
Hill View Guest Houses
Chestnut Hill, MA

     Scully rolled over in bed and opened her eyes to find 
weak wintry sunlight streaming in through the window.  It 
was Christmas Eve, she remembered suddenly, smiling.  When she 
was little, Christmas Eve had been one of her favorite days 
of the year, even more so than Christmas Day itself.  Once 
Christmas Day had actually begun, you knew you had to wait a 
whole year for the next one.  But on Christmas Eve, there
was always the unmistakable sense of anticipation.  The tree 
would be brilliantly decorated with tinsel and shiny bells, all 
ready for the presents to be placed around its base that 
night.  Her Mom would be in the kitchen cooking up all sorts 
of good things to eat, and in the evening her Dad would sit 
down in his armchair and read the Christmas Story aloud.  
Letting her eyelids droop halfway down over her eyes, 
Scully imagined she could see it again.  She and Missy would 
be perched in their father's lap, with Bill on the floor at 
his feet, and little Charlie curled up in their mother's 
arms, nodding drowsily but determined to stay awake to hear 
the end of the tale.
     A crash from the room next door brought her daydream 
to a sudden end and she stood and stretched, looking down at 
the pajamas she'd borrowed from Sarah last night.  Sarah.  
Sarah who'd insisted she and Mulder were just old school 
friends and then had spent last night wrapped in his arms 
while Scully froze all alone in her cold bed.  =This= was not 
how she wanted to spend Christmas.  This morning she'd 
investigate the name on that truck if Mulder insisted, but after
that she was going back to D.C. even if she had to 
drive all the way.  And she'd probably be traveling by herself, 
if last night was any indication.  But there was no way in 
Hell she was going to hang around and watch Mulder and 
Sarah fall all over each other at this famed Christmas party 
Mrs. Chapman kept going on about.  No damned way!
     Having come to this decision, Scully climbed out of bed 
and marched to the doorway of Mulder's room.  Her knock 
was answered by a flushed and grinning Sarah, her hair in 
wild disarray from the long t-shirt she'd evidently just pulled 
on.
     An unexpectedly strong surge of jealousy produced a 
bone-deep ache in Scully's chest, and she could hardly get 
any words out around the painfully large lump in her throat.  
Not fair, cried a little voice in her heart, I should be the 
one flushed and happily rumpled after a night spent in 
Mulder's bed.  He's =my= partner, dammit!
     "Dana, is there something I can do for you?" Sarah 
prompted.
     Scully lifted her chin and squared her shoulders.  She was
determined not to give Sarah the satisfaction of knowing she 
was painfully jealous.
     "I'd like to speak to Mulder please." She said, with as 
much self-possession as she could summon up under the 
circumstances.
     Sarah looked at her with confusion.  "Well, did you try his
room?" She suggested.
     "That's what I am doing." Scully said.  For God's sake,
Sarah, we both know you've won.  Do you really have to 
drag it out like this?
     "Uh, no, actually this is my room."
     Scully shrugged with a creditable imitation of nonchalance.
"Whatever.  Can I see him now?"
     When several seconds has passed without Sarah having made
a move, Scully grew fed up and pushed the door wide open for
herself.  Stalking into the room she regarded the dark-haired 
form in the bed with unwavering displeasure as she prepared to 
do some serious venting of her spleen.  "Mulder, how could 
you?" was as far as she got in her angry declaration before the 
man in the bed turned to face her.  Scully's eyes widened in 
shock as she realized that despite his short brown hair, this 
man was certainly not Mulder.  In the bed, Jeff Fraser blushed 
a fiery red.
     "Agent Scully," he said, trying to regain his professional
composure, not an easy task considering that he was presently
in a horizontal position, not to mention buck naked under the 
bedsheets.  "Good morning."
     "I, uh, good morning Agent Fraser." Scully managed to 
say.  "I was, um, just looking for Agent Mulder."
     "Oh."  Jeff wasn't quite sure what response was expected
of him.  "Did you want me to help you find him?"
     "No, no, that won't be necessary." Scully insisted 
quickly, stepping hurriedly backwards out of the room.
Sarah still stood in the doorway, turning red in the face as
she tried to restrain her giggles, and as the door shut behind
her, Scully heard an explosion of laughter.

     "God, how could I be so stupid?" Scully berated herself
aloud as she turned to go back to her room.
     She promptly found herself pressed flush up against her
partner's hard body as he looked down at her with amusement.
"Talking to yourself again, are you Scully?  So what have you 
done that's so stupid?"
     "Mulder," she gasped, stepping away from him quickly.  
This was not what she needed after her most recent train of
thought.  "What are you doing here?"
     He gave her a weird look.  "It's a hallway, Scully.  I was
just walking along it, and suddenly, there you were."  
Examining her more closely, he reached out a hand towards 
her face.  "Are you feeling okay?  You look kind of red."
     Scully almost jumped when his fingers made contact with 
her face and could have sworn she heard as well as felt the 
sizzle of electricity that followed.  "I'm f-fine." She 
stammered, taking another step away from him.  "I'm just 
going to, uh, get dressed, then I'll join you downstairs."  She 
backed into her bedroom, Mulder watching her go with a look 
equal parts concern and amusement.  This hesitation and
uncertainty was not usual Scully behavior and he wondered 
just what was going on.
     Continuing past her doorway he came to Sarah's room and
knocked on the door.  "Sarah, are you..."
     "NOT now, Mulder!"
     He lowered his fist from the door in confusion.  For some
reason everyone was acting very strange this morning, and
Mulder felt rather like the one who'd been left out of the joke.

                            * * *

     Scully pushed open the kitchen door, her eyes on the
fax sheets in her hand.  "Mulder, I called the Gunmen last 
night and it turns out that Quartech has property in the area."
     Mrs. Chapman looked up from where she was reading a
newspaper at the table.  "What was that Dana?"
     "Oh, never mind, I thought you were Mulder."
     Mrs. Chapman chuckled.  "No, sorry to disappoint you.  I
think he stepped outside to scrape the snow off your rental car.
Can I get you some breakfast?"
     "Coffee would be wonderful."
     "Oh I almost forgot." Mrs. Chapman said, pouring Scully's
drink.  "A woman from the airline called this morning and
said they'd found your suitcase.  They're sending someone
over with it later this morning."
     "That's great." Scully said, relieved that she wouldn't
have to wear the same suit for the remainder of their stay.

     "Dana," Mrs. Chapman said, breaking the silence a couple
of minutes later.  "Sarah always tells me I'm a terrible
busybody, but the thing is, I was wondering why you let
Mulder believe you were spending Christmas with your 
family, when that obviously wasn't your plan."
     Scully took another sip of her hot coffee, trying to
decide how to respond to that.
     "The reason I ask," Mrs. Chapman continued, "is because 
I've noticed that while at some times the two of you seem so 
close, at others, well you act almost like the barest of
acquaintances."
     Scully sighed.  "It's complicated." She said.  "I know that 
probably sounds foolish, because really, what relationship 
isn't?, but ours is even more so than most."
     "In what way?"
     "Because we didn't choose to be together." Scully
clarified, thoughtfully tracing the whorls and knots in the 
wooden table.  "I didn't bump into him in the street and think,
'he looks like a nice guy'; Mulder never struck up a 
conversation with me in some bar and said to himself, 'oh, 
she seems like someone I could be friends with'.  The Bureau 
paired us up, and so that professional partnership has to be a 
defining element of the relationship."
     "But that isn't the be-all-and-end-all of it, is it?  I
imagine law enforcement is a stressful career."
     You have no idea, Scully thought ironically.
     "But the two of you have stayed together.  Even though
surely there must have been times when you contemplated 
throwing it in?" Mrs. Chapman probed gently.
     "Of course." Scully agreed, letting her coffee go cold
as she considered Mrs. Chapman's questions.  "We've been 
split up and shut down too many times to count, but 
something has always brought us back together."
     "And I'll wager you've been through some difficult cases.  
Mulder doesn't say that much about them in his occasional 
letters, but from what I've gathered by reading between 
the lines, the work you do isn't exactly a cakewalk."
     "No, you're right.  It's not often easy.  There've been
times when...well, I don't really want to talk about that
now." Scully smiled reassuringly at Mrs. Chapman.  I
could tell her stories that'd put her off her food for life.
"But somehow we always make it through.  Something
gets us there.  But I'm not really sure what that is."
     "Aren't you?" Mrs. Chapman asked, her brown eyes
twinkling with hidden amusement.  "Because I know exactly 
what it is."
     "You do?" Scully asked curiously.
     Mrs. Chapman nodded sagely.  "Love." She pronounced.
     Scully smiled and shook her head.  She should have
known what Mrs. Chapman was leading up to, having had an 
almost identical conversation with her own mother several 
times.  "No." She insisted.  "It's not like that with us.  Mulder 
and I, we're partners and friends.  Best friends even, but that's 
all there is."
     Deny it all you want, Dana, that's not going to make it go 
away.  "I may be getting on in years a bit," She told Scully.  
"But I'm not blind or senile yet.  Mulder's in love with you, 
and unless I miss my guess, you feel exactly the same way."
     Mulder re-entered the kitchen at that moment,
preventing Scully from making any further denials.
     "Ready to roll, Scully?" He asked, oblivious to the
underlying tension in the room.
     "Just a minute." She said, gulping down the rest of her
lukewarm coffee.  "I had the Gunmen track down that
company from last night, with the reindeer - Quartech
Consolidated - and it turns out they own a considerable
plot of land just a few miles out of town.  Might be worth
checking out, don't you think?"  She suggested, handing
him the streetmap.
     "So your pal from the airplane's fallen off his pedestal,
has he?" Mulder asked as Scully pulled on the boots she'd
borrowed from Sarah.
     "He was never my 'pal' as you put it, Mulder.  I was just 
being friendly."
     "Well from where I was standing it looked like you were
being very friendly." Mulder pointed out.
     "Oh really?"  Scully smirked.  "Were you jealous?"
     "Not at all." Mulder answered quickly, reaching for the plate
of hot from the oven muffins.  "I was just making an observation."
     Mrs. Chapman smiled ruefully and shook her head as she
watched the two Agents leave.  How was it possible that they
were completely unaware of what was so obvious to everyone 
else?  Something would have to be done.

                            * * *

11 a.m. December 24
Interrogation Room
Local Police Dept.
Chestnut Hill, MA

     "I still don't see what the point of this is." Scully grumbled 
as they waited for 'Santa Claus' to be brought in.  "Didn't you 
hear everything you wanted yesterday?  'Cause I certainly 
caught enough to know that this guy is Crazy, with a capital 
'C'."
     "Ah, but there've been further developments since we 
spoke to him yesterday." Mulder pointed out.
     "Developments?" Scully queried incredulously.  "Mulder,
what we have so far barely covers the definition of a case at 
all.  And there certainly haven't been any developments as far 
as I can see."
     "Well maybe you weren't looking at it in the right way.  
But the...phenomenon was fairly obvious to me."
     "Phenomenon?"  Scully wracked her brains, completely
at a loss as to what they could have witnessed that he'd define 
as a phenomenon.  Suddenly she realized what he was on 
about.  "The reindeer, Mulder?"
     He nodded his head.
     "You're telling me that a few circus animals meet your
requirements for an unnatural phenomenon?"
     He nodded again.
     Scully leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes and 
shaking her head slowly from side to side.  Whether this
movement was supposed to indicate her disagreement, or 
rather her conviction that her partner had finally lost it, was 
not entirely clear.
     She opened her eyes a few seconds later to find Mulder 
peering hopefully at her.  "I'm going to play along with this." 
She decided aloud.  "I have no idea what you're trying to 
achieve, but," and she paused to look at her watch, "I'm 
giving you thirty minutes.  No more.  Then we're out of here.  
Is it a deal."
     Mulder agreed, and then got up to open the door.  Mr. 
Claus entered, took one look at the Agents, and declared, 
"You've found my reindeer, haven't you?  This is 
wonderful!"
     Scully sighed and resisted the temptation to lay her head 
down on the table.  This was shaping up to be the longest 
thirty minutes of her life.

                            * * *

11:31 a.m.

     "Thank you, Mr. Claus, again we appreciate your co-
operation." Mulder told him, shaking the man's hand.  
"Coming, Scully?" He asked rhetorically as he headed for 
the door.
     "In a minute."
     Mulder shrugged and shut the door behind him.  Now
what's gotten into her?  One minute she wants to leave
straight away, the next she's staying behind.  Women!  How 
are you ever supposed to understand 'em?
     "Mr. Claus, that was quite a tale you spun for my partner 
just then." Scully commented nonchalantly.
     Santa Claus raised one bushy gray eyebrow.  "Was it?"
     "But," Scully continued, preparing to go in for the kill, 
"I think we both know it's nothing but a bunch of old 
fairytales and nonsense."
     "Is it now?" Santa asked, quietly and half to himself.
     "Yes.  Yes it is."  She got up from the table and pushed 
her chair in.  Since he obviously wasn't going to see reason, 
she was damned if she'd waste any more of her time.  
Especially on Christmas Eve.
     Just before she reached the door, he made one more
remark.  "Okay then Dana."
     She turned back to him, waiting for him to continue.
     "Tell me one thing.  What would it take to make you
believe?"
     "For me to believe that you're Santa Claus?" She
clarified, inwardly rolling her eyes.
     He nodded, regarding her seriously.
     Scully gave a small, self-deprecating smile, and after 
thinking for a few seconds replied: "Give me what I want 
most for Christmas wrapped up with a red ribbon and a bow."  
She turned and left the room without looking back, and in 
doing so, missed the amused expression on Santa Claus' face.
     "If that's what it takes, Dana Scully, then that's what it 
takes." He whispered.

                            * * *

     "Scully, have you got the local streetmap." Mulder asked, 
shuffling through the papers in the folder he held.
     She frowned, checking her bag.  "No, I thought you had 
it."
     "I did, but now I can't find it.  I definitely had it 
in my hand just before we left this morning." Mulder 
recalled.  "Then I put it down for just a second so I could
pick up a couple of those cranberry muffins Mrs. Chapman had 
just baked to eat on the way, and.."
     "..forgot to pick the map up again." Scully surmised.
     "Oh.  Yeah."  Mulder looked crestfallen, and Scully
laughed at him.
     "Relax, Mulder.  It's just a map.  And besides, the 
Chapman's place is on the way."
     Mulder looked at her, surprised.  "What's got into you, 
Scully?  Not that I mind," he qualified, "but an hour ago 
you were snappy because I wanted to do that interrogation, 
whereas now you're positively exuberant, and telling =me= 
to relax."
     Scully shrugged.  "Guess my Christmas spirit must have 
got lost along with my suitcase until now.  Go with it, Mulder."
She smiled at him.  What am I supposed to say?  I'm glad
that this case-that-was-never-really-a-case-in-the-first-place 
is almost over.  I'm rejoicing that my suspicions about you 
and Sarah were proved wrong.  And Mulder, right now I'm 
looking forward to laughing and dancing and flirting with 
you at this Christmas Party in a few hours?  No, some things 
were better left unsaid.
     "Whatever you say, Scully." Mulder replied.  And as if 
sensing the existence of her unspoken thoughts, although not 
necessarily their content, he said to himself, 'And whatever 
you don't.'
                            * * *

End of Part 3


Subject: "All I Want For Christmas" (4/4) MSR
Gemma Kingsley <gkingsley@hotmail.com>



                            * * *


12:10 p.m.
Hill View Guest Houses
Chestnut Hill, MA

     "Oh, you're back already!" Sarah exclaimed as she opened 
the door.
     "What's got you in such a good mood?" Mulder asked, 
turning to look strangely at his partner who was suddenly 
choking on thin air.
     "Mulder forgot the map." Scully explained, as soon as she 
was able.
     "It's probably in the kitchen, but we could check my room 
as well if Dana wants." Sarah said mischievously, grinning
like mad as Scully turned several shades of red.
     Not knowing what on earth they were talking about, 
Mulder took a step backwards in the direction of the kitchen 
and promptly tripped over Scully's suitcase.
     "Mulder, are you okay?"
     "I'll live." He told Scully, taking her proffered hand and
resisting the childish urge to tug on it so she'd end up on the
floor, or in his lap.  His lap.  Hmm, maybe the urge wasn't 
quite so childish after all.
     "Sorry 'bout that, Mulder." Sarah pushed the suitcase out
of harm's way.  "It was just delivered a couple of minutes ago
and I haven't had time to put it away yet.  Speaking of which,"
she continued, without even pausing to take a breath, "there's
something else that was delivered for you two.  I think Mom
put them in the kitchen."
     "What?" Mulder asked.
     "Presents, by the look of them." Sarah said.  She glanced 
back at Mulder as she entered the kitchen, "I didn't even know 
you told anyone you were staying here."
     "I didn't." He confirmed.  "Unless Scully.."
     "Don't look at me.  I only found out we were going to be 
here yesterday." She reminded him.
     "That's strange.  Oh well, here they are anyway." Sarah
indicated two large, shallow boxes, brightly wrapped in
Christmas paper.  "Aren't you gonna see who they're from?"
She asked, perching herself on the table and watching avidly.
     Scully opened her card first, and Mulder and Sarah looked
on as her eyes widened dramatically.
     "What does it say?" Mulder asked.
     "You first."
     He shrugged, and pulled his own card out of its envelope.
His eyes flicked over it rapidly, then he lifted his head to
meet Scully's gaze.  "It says:

Dear Mulder,
I know it's not a telescope, but this gift might just help you 
to get closer to a certain heavenly body.  Trust me, I know 
you want to believe.
Merry Christmas, from Santa Claus.

P.S. Present to be opened on Christmas Eve."

     Scully cleared her throat.  "Okay, mine says:

Dear Dana,
I'm giving you what you want most, just like you asked, so 
maybe I'll make a believer of you yet.
Merry Christmas, from Santa Claus.

P.S. Present to be opened on Christmas Eve."

     Once she'd finished reading it, Mulder took the card from 
her hands to compare the writing on both.
     "This is weird, Mulder." Scully said.  "He's been in that 
cell since before we even got here.  How could he have done 
this?"
     "No idea." Mulder answered, handing her the cards.  "But 
I'm going to call the station and see if he had any visitors 
apart from us."
     Her partner's loud "What?" a few seconds later distracted
Scully from further perusal of the cards.
     "He said he was working with us?" Mulder asked the
person on the other end of the phone.  "You're sure he
specifically said 'Agents Mulder and Scully'?"
     Mulder frowned as he listened to the disembodied voice.  
"Describe him." He said suddenly.  "Uh huh.  Uh huh."
     Scully moved to stand right in front of her partner, but his 
face didn't give away any clues.
     "Dammit!" Mulder exclaimed suddenly, hanging up the
phone.
     "Mulder, what is it?" Scully asked, alarmed.
     "Someone masquerading as an FBI Agent, supposedly
working with us, turned up to escort Mr. Claus to the state 
penitentiary." Mulder related.  "A blonde man, with blue 
eyes.  Doesn't he just keep turning up like a bad penny.  
Three guesses who it is, Scully, and the first two don't 
count."
     "Shaw." Scully stated tersely.
     "Got it in one."

                            * * *

2 p.m. December 24
Agricultural Property
Chestnut Hill, MA

     "Are you sure this is the place?" Scully asked, peering 
through the fogged-up windscreen at the small sign that
leaned drunkenly to one side and read 'Lot 21'.  "It looks like 
it's abandoned."
     "Ah, but that's what they want you to think."  Mulder
climbed out of the car, putting up a borrowed umbrella
which offered scant protection from the swirling gusts of
snow that surrounded them and made two o'clock in the
afternoon look more like the middle of the night.  The snow
that had seemed picturesque earlier was now more of a 
hindrance than anything else as they staggered together 
through the drifts towards the nearest outbuildings.
     From the doorway of a small building, Mulder and Scully
surveyed the landscape, searching for any sign of a team
of reindeer or of Shaw and his goons.
     "Over there!" Scully called, having to raise her voice to be 
heard over the burgeoning blizzard.
     Mulder looked in the direction she'd indicated, and 
marked the light that blinked on and off.
     "Let's go." He said, as they ventured out into the snow 
again.  Common sense dictated that Mulder, with his larger 
bulk, lead the way, and chilled from head to toe, Scully 
fancifully imagined that just like Good King Wenceslas'
page, she too could feel the heat imprinted in the footsteps
in which she trod.
     Only a few meters from the barn for which they were 
bound, Mulder and Scully were knocked off their feet by an 
explosion of heat and light.  Landing on their backs in the 
snow, they automatically looked upwards, and high in the 
air, through the almost blinding spectrum of light that 
assaulted their eyes, they saw...something.  Something of
which even Mulder could never be certain, and Scully later 
analyzed as a shared hallucination caused by the bumps on 
the head they'd received as they hit the ground.  But for those 
few seconds, they experienced something magical, and 'Bells, 
I can hear bells jingling' was Scully's last thought before she 
passed out.

                            * * *

     "Mmm Mulder."  Scully snuggled close to her partner's
warm body.
     "Dana, Dana."  Someone was calling to her insistently,
but she didn't want to wake up.  Pushing her face deeper 
into the pillow she told the voice to get lost.
     "Dana."  The voice refused to be told.  "Dana, wake up."
     Reluctantly opening her eyes, Scully saw a very relieved
Sarah looking down at her.  "Whaddya want, Sarah?" Scully
asked drowsily.
     "Time to get up." Sarah insisted.  "And could you wake
Mulder as well?"
     Scully turned her head to the left, and sure enough, there
was her partner, still fast asleep and mumbling something 
that sounded suspiciously like her name over and over again.
She also noticed that her arm, as if it had a mind of its own,
had wrapped itself around Mulder's waist as they both slept.
Snatching it back as though burnt, the movement was enough
to wake Mulder who blinked sleepily, noticed Scully next to
him in bed, and obviously imagining himself still in the midst
of a pleasant dream, rolled over, encircling her in his arms.
     Scully gasped at the sensation and Sarah smothered a fit 
of the giggles, both of these reactions causing Mulder to
become fully awake whereupon he hastily withdrew his arms, 
apologizing profusely until Scully silenced him with a 
question to Sarah.
     "What happened?  The last thing I remember is lying in 
the snow.."  Sitting up in bed, she ran a professional eye 
over herself and Mulder.  Both were still clothed and 
neither displayed any obvious signs of injuries.
     "We were rather hoping you could tell us that." Sarah 
replied.  "After an hour passed, and the two of you didn't 
come back, Jeff and I went looking for you.  Fortunately 
Dana'd left that fax on the kitchen table so we knew exactly 
where to go.  And there you were, passed out in the snow 
next to the blackened and flattened remains of a barn."
     "Flattened?" Scully asked, her tone indicating incredulity.
     "Yep," Sarah confirmed.  "And in the building next door,
we found a guy called Michael Shaw, and two others, tied up 
tight as can be.  Jeff took 'em down to the station and it turns 
out they each have a rapsheet a mile long and will be spending 
a not-so-merry Christmas behind bars."
    "And that's it?  You didn't find any animal bodies in the 
ruins of the barn?" Mulder asked.
     "No." Sarah assured them.  "Just you two lying in the snow
and the others tied up nearby.  Oh, and this."  She picked an 
object up off the bedside table and handed it to a curious 
Scully.  The leather was frayed at the edges, but the tiny silver 
bells attached to it identified it for what it was.
     She passed it to Mulder and he turned it over and over
in his hands, wondering at how everything but this small 
remnant had vanished.  What had he seen in that blinding 
flash of light?  Maybe he'd never know for sure, but he was 
certain that it had been something marvelous.
     He was brought abruptly out of his imaginings as Scully 
grabbed hold of his arm, gripping it tightly.  "How long were 
we out?" She asked Sarah, distressed.  "Did we...did we miss 
Christmas."
     Sarah chuckled.  "No, of course not.  It's still Christmas 
Eve.  Five p.m. to be exact."  She reassured them, glancing 
at her watch.

     "Oh, they're awake." Mrs. Chapman said, pleased, as she 
entered the room.  "How are you feeling?"
     "Pretty good, considering." Mulder replied, stretching his
limbs in preparation for getting out of bed.
     "So you're still up to going to the Christmas Party, then?"
     "Of course, Mrs. Chapman, wouldn't miss the Chestnut
Hill Christmas Party for the world." Mulder insisted.
     "How about you, Dana?" Sarah asked.
     "Yes, sounds great.  But I.."
     "Then that's settled."  Mrs. Chapman continued.  "Since
there'll just be the four of us.."
     "And Jeff, Mom." Sarah reminded her.
     "Right.  Five of us then.  So we can all pile into the
stationwagon and leave the other cars at home."
     "Fine with me." Scully agreed.  "But the thing is.."
     "Okay, everyone make sure they're down in the kitchen at 
6:30 and we'll take it from there."
     Sarah watched her mother leave the room, then offered
Mulder a hand up.  "Come on ya lazy bum, can't stay in bed 
all day."
     "What did you just call me, Sarah Elizabeth Chapman?"
Mulder demanded, eyeing her threateningly.  "Because I
think you should remember that I'm your childhood friend,
and as such know all your secrets."
     "Oh yeah?  Such as what, Mr. lazy bum?"
     "Such as," Mulder said, throwing back the bedsheets
and swinging his legs over the side.  "The fact that you are
desperately, horribly ticklish."
     "You wouldn't." Sarah stated, taking a step backwards
towards the door.
     "Try me." Mulder countered .
     Sarah squealed and ran from the room, Mulder following
in hot pursuit with surprising agility for one who'd recently
been unconscious.  Scully lay in bed listening until Sarah's
high-pitched shrieks and cries to Jeff to rescue her had
faded away.  Then she sat up, pulling one of the pillows into
her lap.  "Christmas Party?  Sounds great." She said, 
mimicking herself.  "Stationwagon?  Fine with me.  But...
anyone else want to interrupt me now?  No?  Good.  But, 
what in the Hell am I supposed to wear to a party so famed 
that Mulder 'wouldn't miss it for the world'?"

                            * * *

5:45 p.m. December 24
Hill View Guest Houses
Chestnut Hill, MA

     Scully put her hands on her hips and regarded her 
surroundings with frustration.  It looked rather like a hurricane 
had suddenly blown in, turning a neat, organized bedroom 
into something that bore a closer resemblance to ground zero 
of a nuclear explosion than anything else.
     And she =still= hadn't found anything to wear.
     The contents of her suitcase were now scattered around the
room, but neither the jeans on the floor, the suitpants and
jacket on the bed, or the trenchcoat hanging off the bedside 
lamp, looked any more suitable for a formal party than they 
had twenty minutes ago when they'd laid horizontal in the
case.
     Frowning with displeasure, she stepped over her case to 
retrieve the suitpants for another look, and promptly stumbled 
over a box left lying on the floor.
     "Ouch!  Dammit, what the Hell?"
     Rubbing her bruised ankle, Scully bent down to retrieve 
the parcel, recognizing the present that 'Santa Claus' had 
sent her.
     "So this is what I want most for Christmas, is it?"  She 
said to herself, looking at the red and green elves on the 
wrapping paper.  "Smaller than I expected."
     Shrugging, she flipped over the box and slid a nail under 
the sticky tape, running it along the join to remove the paper.  
Carelessly tossing the screwed up wrapping on the carpet, 
What's a bit more mess?, she lifted the lid of the box it had 
covered.  For a second, sheets of tissue paper hid the gift from 
her view, but pushing them aside, her fingers met silky blue 
material.  Mentally crossing her fingers, Scully drew the
garment out of its box and held it up against herself.
     "Beautiful." She said, marveling at the dress.  And it
was.  Full length with thin straps, several shades darker than 
her eyes, and exactly the right size too by the look of it.  How 
on earth had Santa known?  Or maybe not on earth?
     "Now don't get carried away, Dana." She cautioned
herself.  "He's just a good guesser, remember?"  And besides, 
lovely and opportune as the dress was, Dana Scully was 
hardly so shallow as to have an item of clothing as her 
greatest Christmas wish.  And where were the red bow and 
ribbon?
     "Sorry Santa, close but no cigar." She said into the air as 
she carefully laid the dress down on the bed and tried to
remember where she'd tossed her spare pair of heels in the 
mad rummage through her suitcase.

                            * * *

6:20 p.m.
     "Dana, what a gorgeous dress!" Sarah exclaimed as Scully
entered the kitchen.  "Jeff, doesn't she look great?"
     "Yes, you look lovely, Agent Scully." Jeff complimented
her.
     "Thank you.  And please, call me Dana."  Scully insisted 
absently, searching in vain for her partner.
     "Mulder's not down yet." Mrs. Chapman explained, 
realizing the direction of Scully's thoughts.  "Would you like 
a glass of mulled cider while we're waiting."
     "Yes.  Thank you." Scully told her, taking the long-
stemmed glass in one hand.  Noticing Jeff's tuxedo, she idly 
wondered what Mulder would be wearing since she didn't 
think he was in the habit of bringing formalwear along on 
cases with him.  Probably just the gray suit he'd had on 
yesterday, she deduced.  Sipping at her drink, she moved 
to the other side of the kitchen to examine a framed photo 
on the wall.
     "That's Sarah's class photo from the Second Grade." Mrs.
Chapman told Scully as she looked at the small children with 
their smiling faces.  "See if you can find Mulder in it." She
suggested.
     "Do I hear my name?" Mulder asked.
     Scully swung round to greet her partner and almost choked
on the mouthful of cider she'd just taken.  Clothed in a
jet black tuxedo and white linen shirt he was devastatingly
handsome, but the items that had stunned her were the red 
cummerbund and bowtie that adorned his person.
     Like a broken record, the words "Give me what I want 
most for Christmas wrapped up with a red ribbon and a bow" 
ran over and over in her mind.  Was this what he'd meant?  
Could it be?  She had to be sure.
     Taking a deep breath she crossed the room to stand before
her partner.  His wide-eyed gaze and broad grin as he 
stared at her were as much of a compliment as the actual
words of praise he offered on her appearance.
     Placing her glass on the table before she dropped it,
Scully raised her arms to straighten Mulder's bowtie.  Was it 
her imagination, or did he actually lean into her touch?
     "You brought this outfit with you, did you?" She asked,
feigning an indifference she was far from feeling.
     "The monkey suit and trappings?" Mulder queried.  Had he 
actually sighed as her fingers smoothed over his shirtfront 
then moved away?  "Nah, it was a gift from You Know Who."
     "I Know Who?"
     "Do you?" Mulder quipped.
     "Mulder."
     "Alright, alright.  It's from Santa.  You know, the boxes
that were delivered for us earlier." He revealed.  "Am I to
assume that this beautiful outfit is also a gift?"  Running his
fingers along one strap of her dress, he looked down at Scully
and smiled.  "Because if so, I think he has very good taste." He 
told her quietly.
     "Come on everyone, enough dallying.  It'll be midnight 
before we get there at this rate." Mrs. Chapman said, herding 
her daughter and Jeff towards the door.
     Mulder grinned and held out his hand to his partner.  
"Shall we?"  A simple question when taken at face value, but 
the elusive expression in his deep brown eyes hinted that 
more might be implied than was readily apparent.
     But Scully didn't hesitate to take his hand.  "Yes." She 
answered confidently, to anything and everything he was 
requesting of her.

                            * * *

9 p.m.

     'Dammit!' Scully swore silently.  'I'm a grown woman,
an MD what's more, not to mention an FBI Agent who carries
a gun.  And yet I'm letting myself be intimidated by that
woman - did I say woman?  I meant octopus - who has her
slimy tentacles all over =my= partner.'
     "Dana?"
     'So what if she has blonde hair down to her waist and legs
practically up to her neck?  I've got, I've got.  Dammit, what 
have I got?'
     "Dana!" Sarah repeated loudly, startling Scully out of her
self-pitying meditation.
     "Oh.  Sarah.  Sorry, I didn't see you there."
     "No?  I'm not surprised.  I mean, this deserted corner 
you've discovered is just so full of action and excitement." 
Sarah replied sarcastically, drawing an unwilling smile from 
Scully that faded as soon as she caught sight of Mulder again.
     Following the direction of Scully's gaze, Sarah rolled her 
eyes at the sight of Cindi (with an 'i') Pearce, a long way 
the wrong side of forty, plastic surgery paid for with the 
settlements from the two divorces under her belt, yet still 
imagining herself the youthful Prom Queen no male could 
resist.  Oh puhleaze!
     "Come on, Dana.  You're not seriously telling me you 
think Mulder's attracted to that...that witch.  Get on over there 
and rescue him before he goes insane." Sarah exhorted her.
     Scully remained uncertain.  "You think so?  I mean he is
dancing with her."
     "Yeah, but only because she dragged him out there.  You
go cut in and I bet he's so grateful he does his best to smother 
you with kisses."
     Scully blushed a delightful pink and Sarah grinned.  "This 
is the nineties, after all," she continued, "so instead of 
waiting patiently for him to come to you, go get him yourself."
     "Alright, I will." Scully said, determinedly squaring her
shoulders and preparing to march over there and drag that
woman off Mulder by the roots of her hair if need be.
     "What are you grinning about?" Jeff asked Sarah 
curiously, returning to her side after having completed his 
dance with her mother.
     "Wouldn't you like to know?" Sarah responded 
cryptically.
     "Yeah, yeah I would."
     She laughed at his baffled expression.  "C'mon babe," she 
said, grabbing Jeff by his lapels and dragging him back onto 
the floor, "I think you owe me another dance."

                            * * *

     Mulder shifted uncomfortably as Cindi's hand drifted
lower again, and she batted her eyelashes in a way she was
certain made her look quite exotic.  Her eyes fluttered
closed again as she rested in his arms, and Mulder grimaced, 
scanning the room again in search of his partner.
    His eyes brightened as he caught sight of her heading
straight for him across the dancefloor.  Letting go of Cindi 
immediately, and not even noticing as she tottered and almost 
fell, he gave the approaching Scully his most welcoming 
smile.
     Drawing her into his embrace, he marveled at the fact
that even though they'd danced together but once, they
moved in tandem as easily and naturally as if they'd been 
doing it for years.  Which really they had been doing through 
the years of their partnership, albeit metaphorically rather 
than in a literal pas de deux.
     "I'm sorry you didn't get to spend Christmas with your
family." Mulder told her regretfully.
     "It doesn't matter, Mulder."
     "No, it does matter." He insisted.  "I really did intend for 
us to fly back to D.C. this morning, and then you could 
have..."
     "No, I mean I was never planning to fly over to San Diego 
at all.  Whenever I speak to Tara on the phone, all she can go 
on about is 'Matthew this', 'Matthew that'.  He's a sweet kid, 
but that just isn't what I need right now."
     "So what were your plans for Christmas?" Mulder asked 
as he twirled her around then gathered her back into his arms.  
"Anything I should know about?"
     "Well, last year I spent Christmas Eve sitting in front of 
the fireplace, eating homemade apple pie and listening to 
Christmas carols."
     "Sounds good.  Is this a private party or can anyone join
in?" Mulder asked.
     "By invitation only."
     "Ahh." He said, playing along.  "And how does one acquire
an invitation to this exclusive gathering."
     "Oh, it's not so hard." Scully replied.  If her insecurities 
hadn't already been relieved by the speed with which Mulder
had abandoned Cindi, this unabashed flirting would have 
done it.  "Who knows, if we were in D.C. tonight I might just
have called you."
     "Maybe next year." He suggested.
     Smiling up at him, she raised one hand to lightly trace the
edges of his dark red bowtie.  "Maybe."
     "You going to tell me what's so fascinating about this tie 
that you can't keep your hands off it?" Mulder asked, amused 
as Scully guiltily dropped her hand from his throat.  Pulling 
her still closer and smoothing his hand across the bare skin of 
her upper back, he waited patiently for her reply.
     "Mulder, what do you think happened out there?" She
asked, performing a neat evasion by means of another 
question.  Lifting her head to meet his gaze, she clarified, 
"When the barn exploded."
     "I can't say for sure." Mulder answered, without 
dissembling.  "But what I am certain of," and he thought of 
the tattered piece of  leather and the bells that adorned it, "is 
that it was something...magical."
     Scully chuckled.  "So we're left with no hard facts.  And 
all the evidence has disappeared as usual.  Santa Claus must 
be an X-File after all."
     "I think you might be right.  And now come on, what is it 
about the bowtie?  I know there's a connection somewhere.  
Give, Scully."
     Taking a deep, calming breath, she explained the 
significance of the red bow and ribbon, to be met at her 
conclusion with Mulder's widest grin.
     "So you're saying that =I= am what you want most for
Christmas?" He asked her, thrilled.
     "Yes, well, I mean, that is.." She said, flustered by the 
warmth and enthusiasm in his tone.
     Silencing her with a single finger on her lips, Mulder's 
expression displayed a vast tenderness which, although 
somewhat unfamiliar, suited him very well.  "Do you 
believe, Scully?"  He asked as he slowly lowered his lips to 
meet hers.
     "I want to believe."  She admitted fervently, tilting her face 
up to his to receive the gift she'd wanted most this Christmas.

     And if they'd been listening very carefully as they finally 
kissed, they might have heard the jingle of bells and the 
snuffling of reindeer snouts as A Certain Magical Person 
guided his sleigh high above the town hall and smiled down 
at the scene contained within.


The End.

Merry Christmas everyone!  I would love some feedback,
if you feel so inclined.  Gemma at gkingsley@hotmail.com