Date: Tue, 09 Dec 1997 21:20:13 -0500 From: Rhondda Lake Subject: New: The Greatest Gifts Disclaimer: All characters from The X-Files are owned by CC, 10/13 and FOX. Just borrowing them. No money is involved. Category: V, MSR Keywords: Mulder/Scully Married, Christmas Rating: G Summery: Mulder ponders the meaning of Christmas. Short and sappy. Thanks to my editors: Deb, Mary, Christine, and the incomperable Miki. Dedication: To my fellow xpfc members, and to Kristina Lake - who showed me the face of God. The Greatest Gift by Rhondda Lake He awoke in darkness. The moonlight filtering through the window was a weak, pale promise of illumination never quite fulfilled. In the eerie darkness he could hear with a preternatural clarity. The soft, steady breathing by his side. The scrape of cotton sheets against flesh as a limb shifted and settled. The barely perceptible tick of his wristwatch on the nightstand. His own blood coursing through his veins and the pounding of his heartbeat. He looked at the digital clock by his head, the green numbers painting the immediate area in a nightmarish glow. Four fifteen in the morning. The dead of the night had given way to the threat of morning. Fox Mulder rubbed at his eyes and wondered what unsensed stimuli had broken his peaceful slumber. He couldn't recall any nightmare. No terror clutching at him from the realm of somnolent horror forcing him into sweat-drenched wakefulness. Hell, Scully hadn't even whacked his nose with her elbow in her sleep, as was known to happen on occasion. Nothing but darkness and silence, and a sudden wakefulness that denied even the thought of further slumber. It was Christmas morning and he was as alert as any seven year old crouched outside of his parents door, aching to hear the first sounds of wakefulness and the promise of Santa's wonders. He slid from under the sheets and comforter. Familiarity allowed him to move silently through the room and to avoid waking the bed's other, more peacefully inclined occupant. He left the bedroom behind to pad on bare and silent feet to the living room where he plugged in the lights of the tree. The tiny spots of white immediately bathed the room in magical wonder. Ornaments glittered and caused some pinpoints of light to dance and sway, the decorations lost in their own silent celebration. Two years ago he hadn't celebrated Christmas. His own upbringing, an occasional mixture of hollowed-out Jewish and Presbyterian trappings left him confused as to what exactly was being celebrated and why. He learned early enough that mere ritual was being followed without a foundation of belief or faith. It was habit and rote, not celebration. Light the Menorah, spin the dreidel, but skip the prayers, don't explain the how and why. Wooden portrayals of supposed duty. Go to church for daddy. Sleep through the service, wait to tear open presents brought by Santa. Light the tree and move on. Even when Samantha was there, the ordeal had been the same. Ritual in a multifaith household that lacked all faith. As he had grown the whole thing seemed designed for the enjoyment of children, something to be tolerated by adults. No purpose. Now he stood bathed in the mystical glow of tree lights in his own living room. He looked away from the tree to the Nativity placed with care on the coffee table. It was Scully's, of course. She'd told him it had been her grandmother's. She had set it up their first Christmas together and he had envied the faith that was symbolized by each figurine. It seemed both childishly earnest and anciently wise, her belief in something beyond this world. Beyond even her precious science. In a way, her faith was something stronger, and more trusting than his. He believed in extraterrestrials, in psychic powers, in things beyond the norm, but things that - in the end could be proved tangibly. A promise of something to touch and see. Of evidence. Her faith promised no such thing. Last year he had gazed at the Nativity and found it to be, to him, mostly a reminder of Scully's familial closeness. This year... this year he wasn't sure what he saw. Perhaps, just perhaps, a reminder of God. He smiled in the soft glow of indistinct light and reached a finger out to touch the tiny figure of Mary. If he'd been told a year ago that he'd see God in the lines and angles of a mass-produced nativity scene he'd have scoffed. But so much can change... Mulder looked away from the figures to the stacked piles of presents under the tree. Brightly wrapped boxes, ribbons and bows waiting only to be shred away and disregarded. Certainly more packages now than he'd thought he'd ever see under his own roof. But not a single offered present could come close to the gift he'd been given a month ago. Not one material gift could force him to find his faith in something beyond himself, beyond Scully as what he'd already been graced with. He left the lighted living room to pad back up the stairs. He opened the door across the hall from the one he'd earlier exited. He crossed the room and looked down at the greatest gift, illuminated by the pale moonlight. The face of God. He reached out a steady hand to stroke the tiny cheek with the same delicate care he'd applied to the figurine. Eyes the color of heaven's skies popped open and peered at him with the serious study of a scholar. Tiny lips pursed in consternation at the invader who had unintentionally disturbed visions of sugar plums or whatever unformed comforts a one month-old mind might grasp. "Shhhh. Shhhh," Mulder reached into the crib and picked the infant up. "That's my boy. Don't wake Mommy." He carefully sat in the rocker he'd bought eight months ago. The first purchase made to prepare for the miracle he now held. He felt warm breath against the bare skin of his naked chest. Solemn eyes looked up at him still. The face of God in the features of his only begotten son. The promise of something greater than the now of the moment. The gift of a future. "Merry Christmas, Andrew. Did you know it's Christmas?" Mulder's voice was a raspy whisper in the darkness of the room. "But you know what? You and your mommy are the greatest gifts I ever received." "The feeling's mutual." Mulder jumped a bit as he turned to see Scully's figure outlined in the doorway. "I... I didn't want to wake you." "So I heard." She crossed to peer over his shoulder and look down at their son. "Just between you and me, Andy, I think your daddy's a little excited about Christmas this year." Mulder grinned in the dark. "Just a bit. But not for the reasons you might think, Scully." "Since we're all up, let's go. I'll start some coffee and you can introduce Andrew to that train set you bought for him." Scully ruffled Mulder's hair and moved out into the hall. "Merry Christmas, Scully," he called after her. "Yeah, yeah, it will be as soon as I get some coffee." She called back. Mulder stood up and cradled his tiny son close to his heart. "It already is," he whispered. "Thank you." The last was said to one he had only just begun to believe was listening. end- This story can stand alone, but it will eventually mesh into my Dogged Determination Series. Hope you enjoyed it. As always feedback loved. :)