"It Wasn't His Child" by Julie Jekel(Azar) Disclaimers: Do I REALLY have to go through this again? Aren't we clear YET on what's mine and what isn't? :-) What is: the story. What's not: Everybody in it. Mulder and Mrs. Scully belong to CC and co., as do the mentioned-but-not-appearing Scully and Emily. The song "It Wasn't His Child," belongs to Trisha Yearwood. Rating: G Category: SRA Keywords: semi-MSR, even though Scully doesn't appear. Sequel to "Part of Me and Yet No Part." Christmas Story. Faith/Religious content. Dedication: To XPFC, my support and inspiration in so many ways. And to my roommates, for introducing me to the song that inspired this story. Acknowledgements: Thank you, God, so much for everything you've done for me. Without you, I would be nothing and I hope this reflects my gratitude. And thanks to the many people who responded to "Part of Me and Yet No Part," because your comments were what triggered this idea. Summary: Maggie Scully has a late night conversation with her daughter's partner about Dana, Emily, and St. Joseph. "When...Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child of the Holy Spirit; and her husband Joseph, being a just man and unwilling to put her to shame, resolved to divorce her quietly. But as he considered this, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, 'Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit; she will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.'" -- Matthew 1:18-21 December 26, 1997 Bill and Tara Scully's house Miramar NAS Just north of San Diego, California Margaret Scully watched the man on the sofa with pensive eyes. He'd arrived only hours ago, in answer to her daughter's heartbroken call, but even though she was asleep--after finally being forced to go to bed before she dropped from exhaustion-- something wouldn't let him find that solace. Maggie thought she had a pretty good idea what. A pang of regret still shot through her when she remembered how violently she'd reacted to the possibility that this little girl was Melissa's daughter. She couldn't bear the thought that she had a grandchild she never knew about, and so rejected the idea without consideration. But that was before her Dana had received a more crushing blow--she had a child she'd never known, never given birth to. Beside that, everything else paled. But as akin to her own still-potent grief though it may be, what was haunting Fox Mulder wasn't the fact that Dana had a child she'd never known about before this moment, it was so much more than that. And even though she knew he probably wanted to be left alone, there was a truth she could share with him that might help to ease the pain. Or at least let him know he wasn't alone. "Fox..." He looked up at her approach with a weak smile. "Hey, Maggie." Why was it that tragedy was always what brought the two of them together? It seemed sometimes that the only time she saw her daughter's partner was when Dana--and the rest of the family through her--was facing an incredible burden of pain. First her disappearance, then her cancer, and now this... "You seemed to be having trouble sleeping," she commented softly. "What's bothering you?" For a moment, his face twisted in grief, but he fought it off as he had so many times before. "Nothing...nothing, really." "Now, Fox, you should know better than to try to fool a mother," she chided gently. Sitting down beside him on the couch, she met his eyes with hers and willed him the courage to admit to what was on his heart. He hesitated, but finally began to speak, the words coming out in choppy spurts as if each one were a knife-blade in his heart. "I...I want...I want to be happy for...for her. But...I...can't. I...don't...I don't know why--I just...I just can't." She regarded him with the wisdom of raising four children in her eyes. "I think you do know why, Fox," she told him softly. His eyes dropped to the sofa, a flush almost like shame creeping into his face, but still he said nothing out loud. "I know how you feel for Dana, Fox," she continued. "I've known ever since the first day I met you, in her apartment..." She didn't finish the thought, knowing he didn't need any more words to remind him of the time she meant. It was as permanent an unwelcome resident in his mind as it was in hers. "I know it hurts you that the only child she'll ever have isn't yours." She saw him shudder momentarily before he lifted his eyes to meet hers. "Nothing gets past you, does it?" he asked with a wry but kind smile. "I'm a mother, Fox. Reading minds comes with the job description." His smile widened slightly at her quiet jest, but soon faded. "It was bad enough," he finally admitted, "when we learned that she was infertile because of her abduction. All those dreams I'd had of holding our baby someday...just crumbled into dust in my hands. I wanted to marry her, someday, and together bring a new life into the world that would testify for generations to come to how much I love her. But it hurts even more to know that she's been given that child...without me." Maggie placed a comforting hand on his arm, her sad smile never fading. When she spoke again, the words were so quiet that Mulder almost didn't register them. "So, I guess now you understand a little bit how Joseph felt." When the words did sink in, his face tightened in confusion. "What do you mean?" She nodded towards the creche on the mantlepiece. "St. Joseph, the carpenter. Mary's betrothed." For a moment, her eyes seemed to caress the figure, as if she'd witnessed the events she spoke of and was reflecting on them later to a friend. "He watched her give birth to her first child, knowing it wasn't--and never would be-- wholly his own. No matter how much he loved Jesus, he didn't have that blood tie to him that he must have wanted desperately. And I imagine even knowing that his foster child was the Son of God didn't completely soften the blow." An expression of wondering surprise crept over the agent's face. "I thought Catholics believed that Mary remained a virgin," he questioned, puzzled. Maggie laughed. "Officially, yes. I wasn't born Catholic, though. I was raised in the Methodist church, and converted when I married Bill. And even though I came to believe that most of what the Church taught was true, the one thing from my childhood I could never give up was the love story of Mary and Joseph. I remember in the weeks leading up to Christmas my mother would tell me that story almost every night, to help me understand that Christ's life was always wreathed in sacrifice, long before his crucifixion. Those who loved him had to understand sacrifice, so they would comprehend and be able to accept what he had done for them. And I passed that story on to the children--I even bought _Two from Galilee_ for both of the girls for Christmas one year. If I'm not mistaken, Dana still has her copy." He nodded, pensiveness still wrinkling his brow. "I admit I don't know much about the origins of Christmas...but I never thought of it that way." "Most people don't, I imagine. It's very easy to forget that Mary and Joseph were very real people who had the same fears, doubts and questions as anyone else, but who had been chosen for an extraordinary and utterly unique task. But the Bible tells us that Joseph very nearly divorced Mary when he found out she was carrying a child that wasn't his. Only the words of an angel telling him this was God's Son--and God's Will that he be an earthly father to that Son--prevented it. It must have broken his heart, knowing that special place in her life he thought was meant only for him had been usurped by someone else, even if it was the Creator of the Universe." Their eyes met once again and she continued. "I imagine, Fox, that he felt *very* much as you do now. Guilty--the child his beloved carried was not the result of unfaithfulness to him, but still he couldn't shake the hurt. Betrayed by the very God he had dedicated his life to. Left out of the miracle he wanted so much to share in. Torn between overwhelming love for the child and the constant knowledge that it wasn't his..." Fox Mulder laughed roughly. "That sounds pretty accurate." There was a long, thoughtful silence as the agent turned over her words in his mind. He'd never believed in God, never even cared whether or not he was real. But something about the story he'd just been told transcended fabrication, asking him without words if he dared to believe it, to need the comfort it would bring. Maggie smiled, once again tightening her hand on his arm before rising from her place across from him. "I just wanted you to know you weren't alone." He flashed her a crooked smile as she stood, knowing the thoughts she'd planted that night would be growing in his mind for a long time to come. His eyes drifted over to the creche, studying the figure of Joseph beside the manger with new intensity and lingering there long after she'd left the room. The last thought to flicker through his mind before the firelight lulled him to sleep, was simply, I want to believe. FIN "It Wasn't His Child" by Trisha Yearwood He was her man, she was his wife And late one winter night He knelt by her as she gave birth But it wasn't his child, it wasn't his child Yet still he took him as his own And as he watched him grow It brought him joy, he loved that boy But it wasn't his child, it wasn't his child But like a father he was strong and kind and good And I believe he did his best It wasn't easy for him but he did all he could His son was different to the rest It wasn't his child, it wasn't his child And when the boy became a man He took his father's hand And soon the world would know why It wasn't his child, it wasn't his child And like a father he was strong and kind and good And I believe he did his best It wasn't easy for him but he did all he could He grew up with his hands in wood And he died with his hands in wood He was God's child, he was God's child