TITLE:                HOLIDAY REPOST: 
                      A Moose and Squirrel Christmas
AUTHOR:               dlynn
RATING:               PG
CATEGORY:             STORY, UST, GENTLE HUMOR 
DISTRIBUTION 
STATEMENT:            Revised for Gossamer. Anyone else,
                      just let me know so I might visit. 
FEEDBACK:             dlynn1550@my-deja.com 
SPOILERS:             very slight for unnatural, three 
                      of a kind, FTF
SUMMARY:              A Christmas bet gets way out of
                      hand. The episode Millennium 
                      doesn't exist in this world. 
                      Written Dec. 1999.
		          Revised Dec. 2000

AUTHOR'S NOTES:       REVISED: A few have written and 
                      asked for Hickey Claus in this 
                      season of angst. So I dusted him
                      off and spruced him up. 
                      I dare you not to whistle Blue 
                      Christmas as you hit the Mall 
                      today. Oh ... and if you
		          spot Hickey Claus in your travels,
                      you get bonus points. But the 
                      jackpot winner goes to the one who 
                      finds Mulder ... sigh. 
DISCLAIMER:           As always, Mulder, Scully, the
                      Lone gunmen, or anything else 
                      pertaining to the X-files, 
                      are not mine. Fox, CC and 1013 are 
                      sole proprietors. I'm just playing 
                      with them. I also don't have 
                      anything to do with MIB, Barbie, 
                      Pokemon, "The King" or any other 
                      possible trademark I've infringed 
                      upon.



A Moose and Squirrel Christmas: REVISED

CHAPTER ONE: A BLUE CHRISTMAS

A SATURDAY IN DECEMBER
EARLY EVENING


"Mulder, I need to stop at the mall on the way home."

Looking over at his partner seated in the passenger seat 
of their car, Mulder grimaced. Obviously, she had lost 
her mind. There was no way Dana Scully was actually 
suggesting they go cruise the mall. 

Seeing his perplexed expression, Scully continued. "I'm 
serious Mulder. I need to pick up a Christmas gift for 
my godson. I'll be seeing him tomorrow, and I haven't 
had a chance to shop. Someone I know keeps dragging me 
all over creation."

"Fine, Scully. I'll just drop you home.  I'm sure you'll 
still have plenty of time. All the malls have extended 
holiday hours."

"What? You don't want to go with me? Mr. G-man can brave 
monsters and aliens but can't handle a few holiday 
shoppers?" Scully gave him the evil eye. "Mulder, you're 
a wuss."

"Hey, Scully, watch where you wave that word."

Special Agent Dana Scully was enjoying this. She knew 
from past experience, Mulder hated shopping. In fact he 
hated malls with a passion, ranking them up there with 
manure detail as far as he was concerned.  She was sure 
that's why he barely acknowledged her birthday every 
year. To remember it would mean he had to buy a gift. To 
buy a gift meant he might actually have to step foot in 
a department store.

But he owed her. If it weren't for her partner, she 
would have already done this chore. He was the one 
dragging her clear across country to investigate another 
unsubstantiated UFO sighting.  If he hadn't orchestrated 
this little impromptu excursion, she wouldn't be 
scrambling at the last minute.

Still trying to find a way out, Mulder tried 
negotiating.  

"Scully, look, I'll swing by your place, drop you off, 
then go whip out the case report so you don't have to 
deal with it. You can enjoy your day tomorrow without 
worrying about Monday's paperwork."

"Sounds great, Mulder."

Putting his turn signal on, Mulder maneuvered into the 
left lane. This was great. Without too much effort on 
his part, he was going to get out of this. In fact, he'd 
planned to do the report anyway. It was the least he 
could do after another wild goose chase.

"Oh, Mulder. Turn left at the next light. The mall's two 
blocks up," Scully directed, looking sideways at her 
confused partner.

"I thought you said it was okay to drop you at home?"

"No, I said it was great that you were going to do the 
paperwork. Thanks, Mulder, I appreciate your making the 
offer. Now turn left on Jensen."

Realizing she was determined, Mulder got into the left 
turn lane. There was no sense arguing. It would be 
wasted breath, and he'd just end up giving in anyway. 
Already caught in the holiday traffic, Mulder winced 
envisioning the hordes of people they'd encounter. It 
might not be the busiest shopping day of the year, but 
it was sure a first cousin.

Pulling into the crowded parking lot, he joined the line 
of cars circling the lanes looking for an empty space. 
This was ridiculous. He was not going to waste time when 
he had perfectly good FBI credentials he could slap in 
the window. In essence, like the two-ton elephant, he 
could park it wherever he wanted. 

Ah, government perks!

"Don't even think about it, Mulder." Scully's voice 
reached himas sorted through the the glove compartment 
for their parking permit.

"You're kidding, Scully. There's no way I'm gonna find 
anything out here. I'd have a better chance getting old 
Smokey to try Nicorette."

"We can walk; I don't mind. It'll feel good after that 
long plane trip." Scully held her hand out, demanding 
the parking permit.

With a grimace, he slapped into her palm and she placed 
into the glove box. 

Swinging once more into traffic, Mulder mouth was tight 
as he tried not to say what he really thought of 
Scully's decision. After traversing several rows and 
being stopped for the umpteenth time by another car 
waiting for the perfect spot to open up, Mulder mumbled 
under his breath, "A few holiday shoppers.. right.  A 
few thousand is more like it. Of all the ...."

Scully grinned with unconcealed delight at his 
predicament. "Did you say something Mulder?"

Squirreling his mouth into what somewhat resembled a 
smile, Mulder blew past his lips, "No, Scully, just 
thinking how this might be fun after all."

Exuding innocence, Mulder decided that if he were going 
to have todo this, he might as well enjoy himself. Dana 
Scully was going to rue the day she suggested shopping 
'til you drop.

xxxxxxxxx


"Mulder, I can't believe you did that!"

"What, Scully? All I did was park the car. It's survival 
of the fittest out there, naturalism at its highest 
order, dog eat dog, only the strong survive ...and I'm a 
big dog." Mulder justified, shaking slushy, sooty snow 
from his trouser leg.

Arms crossed, Scully watched his little dance as Mulder 
attempted to clean his shoes. He had stepped into a 
deceptively deep pile of snow. Consequently, his pants 
leg and shoe were drenched. The way he was shaking his 
leg around, she almost expected a small, slushy yellow 
puddle to appear beneath the 'Big Dog.'"

Seeing her inquisitive expression, Mulder stopped mid-
shake, his leg poised in the air. "What, Scully? Am I 
doing this wrong?"

"Does the movie "Fried Green Tomatoes" mean anything to 
you, Mulder?" 

"Yeah, chick flick, Scully. It means chick flick."

"It means I hope your car insurance is current. That 
woman was ticked. I saw hostile intent."

Mulder looked over his shoulder into the night. He 
thought of Fried Green Tomatoes and Cathy Bates ramming 
her car into the parking space thieves flashy vehicle, 
teaching the perky co-eds a lesson in parking lot 
etiquette. Surely Scully was joking. He hadn't really 
done anything wrong. He'd seen the space from the aisle 
over, hustled around the corner and zipped in just as 
another car was signaling to take the space.  All's fair 
in love and holiday parking, right?

Turning back to his partner, Mulder noticed she'd walked 
on ahead. She was headed toward the Salvation Army bell 
ringer. Of course, his Scully would put a buck in the 
pot.

Reaching inside his overcoat, Mulder pulled out his 
wallet. Time for redemption, he thought pulling out a 
bill. Great. All he had was a twenty. He'd meant to stop 
at the cash machine, but he had forgotten in their haste 
to get home. 

"Uh, Sir, do you have change?" Mulder asked the weary 
Salvation Army worker.

The bell ringer looked as though it had been a very long 
day. His cheeks were flushed, his nose was windburned, 
and his ears stung where his knit cap didn't quite reach 
to cover their tips. He was tired, hungry and feeling 
foolish from ringing a silent bell for the last several 
hours.

The clapper had been removed - shopping mall policy, too 
many people had complained about the traditional bells. 
So holiday "ringers" were forced to shake silent 
instruments. What a joke. Where was everyone's holiday 
giving spirit?

Now this guy, who looked like he had just stepped out of 
GQ, needed change. Did he look like an automated teller? 
Did it say First National Bank of Schmuck across his 
forehead? Remember the season he told himself for the 
umpteenth time that day. Be nice.

"Yeah. What you need?"

Mulder handed him the twenty. "Keep $5.00."

Counting $15.00 out in change, the bell ringer decided 
Mr. Fancy pants wasn't so bad after all. Earlier in the 
day some other jerk had wanted him to change $20.00. 
Then he'd walked off, pocketing the cash in its 
entirety.  

Seeing the smile the pretty red head bestowed on Mr. GQ, 
the bell ringer figured he'd just helped get someone's 
butt out of the doghouse. Catching Mulder's eye, he 
experienced a moment of fraternal bonding knowing the 
male of the species had just scored one in the dance of 
life. 

Now that's helping your fellow man.

Mulder walked to where his partner was holding open the 
mall door.

"Smooth move, Chief. I bet you take change from offering 
plates too."

Having enough good sense to look sheepish, Mulder 
shrugged, entering the bustling mall.

"Hey, Scully, I work for Uncle Sam. I figure I'm just 
one paycheck short of a budget deficit."

"Mulder, you're an ass."

With a gleam in his eye, Mulder turned his back.  
Bending, he looked over his shoulder at her and 
suggestively wiggled his butt.  "And a nice 'piece of 
ash it is', ain't it Agent Scully?"

"Well I wouldn't mount it over the fireplace, but I 
could see itwrapped in holiday trimmings beneath my 
tree." Scully studied his derriere with clinical 
detachment.

Mulder heard a laughing snort. Looking up he spotted an 
old, gray haired grandma enjoying his public display way 
too much. Seeing laughter in her eyes, along with her 
raised eyebrows, he couldn't help but feel better about 
his embarrassing exhibition. 

"I wouldn't throw him out of bed for having cold feet," 
Grandma said, smiling the smile of someone who had loved 
long and well.
 
Reaching up gently, Mulder kissed her cheek and 
whispered against her ear, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, young man, she's a beauty." The woman 
whispered back. 

Throwing his head back in a delighted laugh, Mulder 
slung his arm over Scully's shoulder, giving his partner 
a gentle squeeze. She was a beauty, and sometimes it 
felt so good to be alive.

"Off, McDuff! We have holiday cheer to capture!" Mulder 
began to jauntily whistle jingle bells' - out of tune - 
as he piloted Scully through the jam packed mall 
entrance.

The inside of the mall looked likes a Tim Burton film; 
everywhere Mulder's gaze landed, he spied garish 
displays. Not an inch existed that remained clear of 
holiday trappings. 

"Don't stand still too long, Scully. They'll turn you 
into one of these smiling animatrons." Mulder peered 
into one of the storefront windows. He watched swirling 
skaters glide by on fake ice. "I'd swear that's Burleson 
from accounting. See him? - the little guy in red tights 
doing the fancy pirouette."

Not wanting to humor her partner's manic phase, Scully 
tried desperately not to smile. He didn't need any extra 
encouragement. It was obvious that he was going to make 
this evening a challenge.

The concept was simple. Mulder was paying her back. 

Taking off at a fast clip, Scully steered a course to 
the mall directory. She perused the text, searching for 
the little numbered square that signified her objective.

"So what are we looking for, Scully? What's the "gotta 
have" toy this year?"

Ignoring him while dodging strollers and overburdened 
shoppers, Scully set a course for the toy store. 
Narrowly avoiding a harried mother trying to untangle 
herself from her toddler's safety harness, Scully 
stopped short. Mulder, whose attention had been in the 
Victoria Secret's window, stepped on the back of her 
shoe, pushing down her heel.

"Damn it, Mulder, that hurt."

"Sorry, Scully, didn't see you stop." He helped her 
to an empty bench where she could sit and fix her shoe. 
Of course it didn't hurt that said bench was directly 
across from the object of his distraction.

"Hey, Scully, I've been very good this year. Suppose 
Santa will put one of those in my stocking?" Mulder 
pointed to the mannequin dressed in the emerald green 
merry widow with matching garters.

"Personally, I think you'd look better in the navy blue, 
Mulder. It'd go better with your eyes," Scully suggested 
as she got up from the bench, resuming her focused trek 
down the aisle.

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure it would do anything for my 
figure."

Gotta give her credit. She's lobbing 'em back as fast as 
I can serve 'em. Agent Scully was in fine form. Passing 
through the food court, Mulder's stomach rumbled, 
reminding him that it had been an awfully long time 
since lunch.

"Scully, does this holiday excursion have a dinner show. 
I could sure use a little sustenance." Mulder salivated 
on the glass at the Cinnabon store, practically leaving
streaks of saliva as he panted. 

Grabbing his arm, she tugged him away from the bakery 
window. Cinnabon's were her weakness, and she was not 
going to give in to that temptation. 

"We'll eat after we hit the toy store. I'll feel better 
once I get Brian something. And if you're a good boy, 
Mulder, Dana will buy you a happy meal when we're done."

"Gee, thanks, 'Dana'."

Without further mishap, if one didn't count Mulder 
ogling every scantily clad mannequin from Victoria's 
Secret to Frederick's of Hollywood, they arrived at 
their destination. 

The store, of course, was a zoo. Frazzled parents 
balanced precariously stacked boxes. Children ran 
through the aisles pushing every button there was to 
push. Canned holiday music fought to dominate over 
squealing children, singing Santas and talking Rugrats. 
Scully was determined to get out of there as quickly as 
possible or they were going to have to fit her with a 
straight jacket.

Mulder, on the other hand, was in his element. The 
moment he entered the store his eyes lit up like a kid 
at Christmas. It was amazing. He was so enamored that he 
couldn't figure out what to look at first. 

"Hey, Scully, look at these." Mulder held up a couple of 
Men in Black action figures. They were thrown into the 
'reduced' pile with other assorted 'no longer cool' 
action figures.

"We could be action figures, Scully. These guys don't 
have anything on us.

Ignoring her look of tolerant condescension, Mulder 
dangled a purple and white multi-eyed organism in front 
of her face. 

"We've seen it all. I mean look at this thing, is that 
supposed to be an alien? Get real." 
 
"I think it's an Arquillian. Although, I'd say he has a 
passing resemblance to something I've seen in your 
files."

"We're much cooler than these guys, Scully. I mean 
what's with these names, K and J? I'd rather pay to see 
a red-haired, kickbutt G-Woman in all her molded plastic 
glory. I'm sure we'd never end up in the 'reduced for 
quick sale' pile." Mulder disdainfully tossed the purple 
blob back on top of the toy landfill.

"Right, Mulder, and we could be accessorized."

"Exactly, Scully."

Stopping at the beginning of the Barbie aisle, Mulder 
grabbed NBA Barbie. "Hold the presses Scully, forget 
those dinky action figures. You could be FBI Barbie, 
complete with trench coat, cell phone and SIG automatic. 

A bored teenage girl, with younger sibling in tow, was 
perusing Barbie mania. Mulder couldn't resist conducting 
a scientific survey of one.

"Hey, kid."

The little girl looked over at Mulder. He had squatted 
down next to her because he realized his height could be 
imposing to children.She sidled up closer to her older 
companion, hiding behind her baggey clad sister. "I'm 
not supposed to talk to strangers, Mister."

Miss 'I'm too cool for school' realized she had a chance 
to talk to an absurdly good-looking older guy and didn't 
want to lose the chance.

"That's 'all right', Jenny. I'm with you so it's okay." 

Giving Mulder her best grown-up smile, she continued. 
"I'm Sue. This is my younger sister, Jenny. What can we 
help you with?"

"Well, I had a question for Jenny. I was just wondering 
if she'd want an FBI Barbie? You know, one that looked 
like her?" Mulder pointed to and extremely embarassed 
Scully.

"Well. She's pretty, but what's FBI?" Jenny looked
confused.

Wanting to show how mature she was, Sue explained. "You 
know, like in that movie Men in Black. They hunt space 
aliens and stuff."

Scully mumbled under her breath. "Out of the mouths 
of babes."

"Sure, I think that would be cool, Mister. Are you guys 
FBI? Do they make one like her?"

Raising up from his crouched position where his knees 
were letting him know he wasn't twenty years old 
anymore, Mulder laughed. "Yeah, we're FBI, and no, 
there's no FBI Barbie. Agent Scully is an original."

"That's too bad," Jenny said. "She'd make a pretty 
Barbie."

Looking affectionately at his partner, Mulder agreed. 

"Yes, she would."

Scully tugged at her wayward partner's sleeve. 

"Come on, Mulder. We've got a gift to buy for an 
eleven-year-old boy, and we're not going to find it in 
this aisle."

"I don't know, Scully. Have you looked at the 
proportions on these Barbie's? I wouldn't find something 
like that inmy stocking. I go for petite, ya know?" 

Moving past lots of little girls, Mulder and Scully 
headed to the back of the store. Between dodging holiday 
shoppers and avoiding Mulder's, "Scully, look at this!" 
they finally reached her destination. However, just as 
Scully reached up to examine a space shuttle model kit, 
she realized she'd lost him again.

Oh well, how much trouble could he get into?

"Damn!" Scully turned around. She reached beneath her 
feet and retrieved the small nerf missle that had 
smacked her in the head. Her gaze beheld polished dress 
shoes and moved from there to a soggy, dirty cuff; a 
twitching, nervous leg; and finally up a very sexy 
abdomen to a decidedly sheepish face.

Busted, Mulder tried unsuccessfully to shove the nerf 
gun at the young boy standing next to him.

"He did it, Scully. I was just an unfortunate observer."

"Hey, man, that's a lie. Look, lady, he asked me how it 
worked, and I was trying to explain when it ... and ... 
he just let it fly! God's honest truth, lady. I know 
better than to shoot those things indoors. My mom would 
kill me."

"That's okay. I'm sure you had nothing to do with it." 
Scully glared at her incorrigible partner, who rocked 
back and forth on his feet as though he had to go to the 
bathroomand was doing his best to not bolt.

The kid quickly hurried away before he got into any more 
trouble. He couldn't afford any grief right before the 
holidays. He had hopes of a new Sega system. And he 
could tell that guy was bad news.

"Blaming children, Mulder, for your bad behavior?" 
Scully turned back towards the shelf to remove the 
shuttle - no good letting her bad boy partner see how 
much he was amusing her with his antics.

"Well, technically, Scully, you didn't see the incident, 
and I know how much you rely on the rigors of scientific
evidence before you come to any conclusions."

"Uh ... huh."

"Seriously, you can't hang me on the word of one twitchy
child. I thought our partnership was based on trust...." 

"Yep, it is. I *trust you* to get into trouble."

With that, Scully took the space shuttle off the shelf. 

"What? We're done? You're gonna get him that?"

"Yeah, Mulder, I'm going to get him the model kit. My 
brothers loved putting these together when they were 
his age."

"Well at least get him one of the monster kits, Scully." 
Reaching above her head, Mulder pulled down a 
Frankenstein model. "Now that's cool! What kid could 
resist old Frankie."

Taking the model from her partner, Scully placed it back 
on the shelf. "That's okay. I like my choice. Brian's 
always been fascinated with space."

Moving behind a woman paying for a mountain of toys, 
Mulder and Scully were privy to a heated argument 
between her two young sons. They appeared to be nine or 
ten years old, each was arguing his respective point. 
Scully wondered how their mom could ignore the 
commotion. 

"Uh...uh, Charmander evolves into Vulpix."

"No it doesn't, Bobby. Charmander evolves into 
Charmeleon. Vulpix evolves into Ninetails."

"Yeah, but a Charmander beats a Bulbasaur cause flame 
burns grass," Bobby replied heatedly.

Mulder, finding another childhood avenue to explore, 
chimed in. 

"But doesn't a Bulbasaur beat Pikachu? After all, grass 
doesn't conduct electricity like water." 

Scully slapped her partner in the arm, trying to shoosh 
him.

"Mulder, what are you babbling about?"

"Pokemon, Scully. Gotta catch em all!"

Seeing her puzzled look, he continued. "You're kidding 
right? Even I know about Pokemon. They're the latest 
craze.  The baseball cards of the 90's. These kids know 
their stats like I know the NY Yankees batting averages. 
Schools are banning them, violence is escalating over 
bad trades, and they've made the cover of Time 
Magazine."

"Right, and you just happen to have intimate knowledge 
of these Pokemon. You're scamming those kids, Mulder. 
You wouldn't know a Charmander from a ..what did you 
call it Balthazar."

"That's where you're wrong, Scully. I do know what I'm 
talking about, and Charmander has more power than a 
Bulbasaur and beats it every time." 

There was no need to tell Scully that he had taken a 
trip through Langly's pokemon trading card collection 
the last time he'd been at the Lone Gunmen's lair. 
Sometimes his eidetic memory came in handy.

"In fact, I'll make you a wager, Scully. I'll bet you 
that I can give details of any Pokemon these guys 
choose.

"Mulder, you could make anything up. I wouldn't know if 
you were correct or not."

"Yeah, but these guys would." Giving the brothers his 
best, 'don't mess with me look' he asked, "You'd tell 
the lady straight, wouldn't you, Sports?"

"Sure, Mister, we wouldn't lie about something like 
that."

"Fine. But I get to pick my part of the wager, Mulder. 
If you can't give the pertinent facts, without cheating, 
you have to go to the center of the food court and sing 
Elvis' Blue Christmas."

"Alright, and if I win, you have to go and sit on the 
mall Santa's lap and tell him what you want for 
Christmas."

"Mulder, I'm an adult. I can't do that."

"Like I'm the Mormon tabernacle choir? Who's the wuss 
now Agent Scully?"

Reaching out to her mocking partner, she firmly grasped 
his extended hand. Shaking it once, she said, "It's a 
bet."

The kids were grinning from ear to ear. This was turning 
out to be a better day than expected. Mom had dragged 
them to the mall to shop for all the cousins. It had 
been pretty boring until now. One of these adults was 
going down. The day was definitely on the upswing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dana Scully tried to figure out where she had lost 
control. It had been simple enough. Run inside mall. Get 
toy. Enjoy a little downtime with her partner. At what 
point could she have stopped this and avoided being 
where she stood, which was in line to visit Santa Claus?

I'm a grown woman who accepted a ridiculous bet and now 
has to pay the consequences. Welching is not an option, 
no matter the embarrassment. She looked over at Mulder 
who was biting the inside of his lip and averting his 
eyes every time she glanced his way. He was trying, she 
was sure, not to outwardly enjoy this too much.

He failed miserably. 

Every time he caught her eye, he had to look away before 
he totally lost it. This was so good. He couldn't have 
planned it better. The fates were smiling on him today. 
He had fully expected to lose that bet. How could he 
know the kids would pick one of the few Pokemon cards 
he'd actually seen? 

Langly had been so excited about this new hobby; he'd 
forced his collection on his friend. Humoring him, 
Mulder had glanced at a few, then distracted Langley 
with conspiracy theories. He'd learned more than he'd 
wanted to know and just enough to get him into trouble. 
Or at least, that's what he'd figured.

"Hey, Mom, what's a listening device?" asked a little 
boy as he and his mother walked away from Santa's 
throne.

"Why, Tommy?"

"Well, Santa said I needed one of those for Christmas so 
I could "get the goods" on Patricia."

"How did he know about Patricia, Tommy?"  The boy's 
mother glanced over her shoulder at the mall Santa.

"I told him that I wanted a squirt gun so I could get 
Patricia when she was bugging me. Santa said older 
sisters could be a pain so I should get a listening 
device and put it in her room next to her phone. He said 
with all the good stuff I'd get on her, she wouldn't 
bother me anymore."

"He said that, did he?" 

"Yeah, so that's what I want this Christmas - a 
listening device."

By this time Mom and son were too far out of range to 
hear anymore. That's my kind of Santa, Mulder thought 
moving forward as the line crawled along.

"Just a little longer, little girl. Think you're gonna 
make it?" Mulder put his arm over Scully's shoulder, 
nudging her forward in the line. "Have you made up your 
Christmas list? You haven't forgotten to put something 
good on there for your partner. By the way ... I prefer 
naughty to nice."

"Mulder, I suggest you remove your arm or you're going 
to be asking for your two front teeth for Christmas," 
Scully hissed.

"Don't be a sore loser, Scully. Where's your Christmas 
spirit?"

"I left it back at the toy store, Mulder."

Just then a gangly middle school aged kid ran up to the 
line. He stopped to talk to the boy standing directly in 
front of Mulder and Scully.

"Your mom dragging you to see Santa, Jimmy?" the 
newcomer inquired.

Looking embarrassed, Jimmy mumbled something about his 
mom wanting to get a picture with all the kids. She 
didn't seem to care that this was so uncool.

"Yeah, I understand, man. My mom did the same thing to 
me."

"Really, Matt? I mean this is so lame."

"Actually, Jimbo, it's not that bad. They got this 
really neat guy playing Santa this year. He told me all 
about this government conspiracy where the military's 
putting mind control drugs in candy canes so they can 
run all these experiments."

Mulder and Scully locked eyes. 

"Mulder if you've set me up... if that little troll is 
playing Santa...there's not a prayer that will save 
you!" 

"Scully, I didn't know...I don't know...it could be 
purely coincidental."

"Right, like there are hundreds of conspiracy spewing 
Santas around the country. Mulder, if that's Frohike up 
there, you're dead meat."

Peering over the crowd, Mulder took a good look at the 
Santa. For the most part nothing seemed out of the 
ordinary. He had all the correct attire, gray/white 
beard, big black boots, matching elf. However, looking 
more closely he realized this Santa had a stool up under 
his feet, and his gloves were fingerless. Not a good 
sign. She was going to kill him.

"Scully, you still packin'?"

"You mean do I have my firearm? Yes, Mulder, you know I 
do."

"Well, I don't suppose you'd want to give me the clip?" 
he chuckled.

"Why?"

"I'm just afraid you might shoot me again."

"Oh God, it's him isn't it? Frohike's playing Santa?" 
Scully got up on her toes and peered around the colorful 
gingerbread house by Santa's throne. It wasn't possible 
but there he was. In order to fulfill the bet, she was 
going to sit on Frohike's lap and tell him what she 
wanted for Christmas.

Scully turned towards Mulder, banging her head against 
his chest while murmuring over and over, "I just wanted 
a Christmas gift, just a small toy."


Xxxxxxxxxx


The moment of truth was upon her. Only one more family 
stood between her and "Hickey Claus". In his defense, 
Mulder had offered to let her out of her end of the bet. 
She figured that was his way of proving to her he 
had not set this whole thing up. She thought he was as 
genuinely surprised as her to see Frohike decked out in 
holiday glory.

But she decided to go through with it. She had made the 
wager. Backing out would mean breaking a commitment. In 
the scheme of life this little bet was no big deal, but 
the trust she shared with Mulder was important, no 
matter the situation. He had to be able to count on her 
to follow through, even with the small stuff.

Actually, as she had time to process the twist of fate, 
she realized the whole scenario was ripe with 
possibilities. As much as Mulder professed to the 
contrary, she knew he was deriving an inordinate amount 
of satisfaction from the situation. She would show him 
'Dana Scully' was no wuss. 

In fact, this was an opportunity for payback. The Lone 
Gunmen had never been properly paid in full for their 
'Las Vegas' prank. Frohike and his cohorts still owed 
her big time for that deception. Like an elephant, Agent 
Dana Scully didn't forget.

Watching the line inch forward, Mulder considered the 
situation. Not that he wanted to see Scully embarrassed 
in any way, but when fate drops a present in his lap, 
who was he to return it unopened. It might be 
nobler to give than receive, but who ever said he was 
noble. 
This was just too good!

Puzzled, he looked over to where Scully was in rapt 
conversation with one of Santa's elves. She appeared to 
be signing up for a holiday photo of the memorable event 
to come. Now that was interesting. He had intended to 
ask for a snapshot, intrigued with the potential for 
blackmail. He figured Scully would confiscate the camera 
before she'd allow any pictures. 

What was she up to?

Frohike reached down helping a small toddler climb into 
his lap. The little boy was adorable, dressed in his 
holiday finest, a cowlick in his hair refusing to be 
combed down and the biggest toothless grin imaginable. 
As far as he was concerned, Frohike was 'The Man', Mr. 
Santa, 'The Claus' himself.

Holding the wiggling child more securely so he didn't 
fall off Santa's lap, Frohike saw the child's mother 
silently mouth her son's name over the boy's head.

"So Michael, how you doing, bud?"

"Great, Santa, is that a real beard?" Michael
reached to tug on Frohike's whiskers. Thankfully Frohike 
had taken the few weeks necessary to grow a pretty 
decent beard. He had been afraid some kid might try this 
and he didn't want to be exposed as just another 
shopping mall Santa. In fact, if any of the little 
kiddies or their parents had looked really close, they 
might have seen the earpiece nestled in Santa's ear.

This Santa was high tech. He came with support 
personnel. Langly was planted in the crowd where he 
eavesdropped on family conversations, passing along 
little bits of info. This allowed Frohike to mesmerize 
parents and tykes alike with intimate knowledge of their 
families.

So, management didn't know. No matter. The mall manager 
had come up to him only this morning to tell him of the 
wonderful feedback he was getting about 'Santa'. Through 
word of mouth, more and more were seeking him out. That 
translated into greater mall traffic, which spilled over 
into increased store sales. The manager didn't care how 
Santa was doing it. He just wanted Frohike to continue 
his fine job.

Marketing aside, Frohike was having a blast. He loved 
the Santa gig. He'd been doing it for years. The little 
personal touches he and Langly were able to add only 
increased the magic. Seeing children's' wondrous 
expressions was such a high, especially when he was able 
to put the enchantment back into the eyes of a doubting 
THOMAS - one of those kids who were so sure he had this 
whole Santa thing figured out. It was a joy to have 
parents thank him for helping them bring one more year 
of childhood innocence, one more year of Santa's magic.

Bringing his attention back to Michael, Frohike asked, 
"So Michael how are you getting along with your baby 
sister, Kayla?"

Watching Mom's eyes widen as much as Michael's, Frohike 
continued, "You've been treating her good, right son?"

"Sure, Santa. I love my little sister."

"Then I think it would probably be best for you to stop 
throwing all your stuffed animals into her crib and 
covering her up when she's sleeping. That could be 
dangerous for Kayla. She could have trouble breathing. 
You're her big brother. You have to help protect her."

Frohike caught Mom's eye as he heard her gasp. How did 
he know that? They'd been trying to get Michael to stop 
that for some time. Only a short while ago, they had 
tried unsuccessfully, again, to discuss this rationally 
with their four-year-old. He just couldn't understand 
why his newborn sister couldn't play with him.

Sitting up taller, Michael announced solemnly, "I 
promise, Santa. I won't ever do that again."

"Good. Now let's get little sister in the picture."

Just as Michael's mom was bending down placing little 
Kayla upon Frohike's lap, Langly's voice hissed in his 
ear.

"Mayday! Mayday! Oh man, I don't believe this! Check 
out the next couple in line, my man. You're gonna lose 
it."

As discreetly as possible, Frohike glanced at the man 
and woman waiting next in line. They were watching him 
intently.
 
Mulder and Scully. 

So much for good deeds, the fates were cruel today.

"Santa. Santa!"

Frohike brought his attention back to Michael who was 
tugging on his arm.

"Yes, Michael."

"Well I'd like some race cars, a big boy's bike with 
training wheels and...um.. a...umm... a puppy."

"Oh you would, would you?" Frohike replied.

"Yeah, and Santa could you bring something for Kayla, 
too? She doesn't play much, but she likes to put things 
in her mouth and drool all over them. Maybe you could 
get her something good."

"I'll make my best effort, Michael. Now you go off and 
be a good boy and help your mom and dad look after 
little sister. Alright?"

"You bet, Santa. You're the coolest, Santa. I gotta tell 
my friend, Alex."

Gathering up Michael and Kayla, their mom stopped to 
thank Frohike for being so wonderful. She didn't ask him 
how he knew so much about their family. She didn't 
really want to know. Even grown-ups need a little 
holiday mystery.

"You old softy."

"What?" Frohike looked up to see Scully standing beside 
his throne. She was watching the mother bundle Michael 
and Kayla into the double stroller.

"Ah, Agent Scully. You seem to have forgotten 
something."

"No, I didn't. Mulder's right behind me."

"No, not Mulder." 

Gazing past her to Mulder who was still looking like he 
was trying to figure him out, Frohike asked, "Where's 
the kid? It's traditional, you know, to bring a child to 
see Santa."

"I figure Mulder fits the bill." Scully shocked Frohike 
by calmly climbing onto his lap.

"Uh...Agent Scully?"

"Yes... Fro...uh... Santa."

Scully was aware that several small children were close 
by watching everything with fascination. In fact, one 
child was busy complaining to his parent that Scully was 
too big to be a kid. What was she up to, didn't she know 
Santa was just for kids?"

"What do I owe this... uh...  unexpected pleasure?" 
Frohike croaked out as he tried to figure out where to 
put his arms.

"Keep those hands where I can see them Frohike, unless 
you'd like to become an elf."

Putting his hands to his side, Frohike tried to puzzle 
this out. What was the delectable Dana Scully doing in 
his lap? Who had read his Christmas wish list?

"I lost a bet with Mulder, Santa, and the wager was that 
I would have to sit on Santa's lap and tell him my 
Christmas list."

"You're kidding, right?" He looked incredulously at 
Mulder, who only shrugged.

"Does this look like I'm joking?" Scully focused her 
attention on the details of Frohike's costume. He had 
gone all out. Not just a real beard, but there was real 
fur trim bordering the costume and intricate embroidery 
and stitching. He even had little wire rim glasses 
perched on his nose.

"Okay. So 'Dana' what can Santa bring you for 
Christmas?"

Noticing conversations had stopped so the people around 
her could hear this dialogue, Scully leaned in closer to 
Frohike. Knowing this would drive Mulder crazy since he 
couldn't hear what she was saying, she whispered.

"Frohike, I had every intention of embarrassing the Hell 
out of you, but I've been watching you around the kids. 
You're terrific with them. You're a wonderful Santa. And 
don't think I haven't noticed the earpiece. Who's out 
there? Byers, Langly?"

"Uh...Langly. Just trying to put a little magic back in 
Christmas."

"I personally think it's clever. You sure put the fear 
of Santa in Michael. His parents looked relieved."

Scully put her arms around Frohike giving him a warm 
hug. "Frohike?"

"Hmmm," he said breaking from his reverie, even as he 
hugged his Christmas wish more tightly to his chest.

"Merry Christmas." Scully grasped his grungy beard and 
pulled him toward her. She captured his lips with hers, 
planting a very passionate kiss on the shocked Santa. 
Not wanting to waste the moment, Frohike recovered 
quickly and reciprocated in kind.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the camera flash. 
In his ear he heard Langly's audible gasp. And from 
somewhere behind Scully, he heard Mulder's delighted 
laughter, whistles and cheers.

With the background chant of  'Go Santa! Go Santa!', 
Frohike got down to business. Who was he to look a gift 
horse in the mouth, and a wonderful mouth it was, too? 
Frohike was beside himself.

Scully smiled as she broke the kiss. "Not bad, Frohike. 
Not bad."

Mulder came up behind her. Extending his hand, he helped 
Scully down from Frohike's lap.

"You're the man, Frohike."

"Thanks, Mulder. I guess I have you to thank for this 
lovely Christmas gift. What was the bet?"

Watching Scully pick up her photo, Mulder said, "It's a 
long story. Suffice it to say, you definitely came out 
the winner."

"Don't I know it, man! Don't I know it!"

Scully walked back to Frohike. She handed him one of the 
pictures, placing the other in her purse.

"A word of advice, Santa, never place a bet with a man 
with who has an eidetic memory." Scully smiled 
affectionately at her partner.

"Come on Mulder. I'll buy you that Happy Meal."

Xxxxxxxxxxxx


Mulder and Scully were in the food court finishing up 
their meal. Thankfully Chik-Fil-A had won out over 
McDonald's Scully thought, smacking Mulder's hand as he 
stole another waffle fry. Leaning back in her chair, she 
listened to the school choir entertaining the patrons 
with Christmas Carols. For a high school group, they 
were pretty good. What they lacked in skill, they made 
up for in enthusiasm. 

Mulder was enjoying the evening as well. It had been a 
good evening. Life's burdens had seemed just a little 
farther away tonight. It had been great seeing Scully 
cut loose and enjoy herself. Those times were way too 
infrequent for someone still so young.

"Hey dudes!"

Looking past Scully, Mulder saw Langly approaching.

"You off surveillance detail?" Mulder asked.

"Yeah, Byers came in to provide relief so I could grab a 
bite." Langly set his tray down at their table.

Langly poured enough catsup on his burger so that it 
dripped off the sides. "So Mulder. Tell me about this 
bet. Enlighten me. Frohike wants details."

Ignoring their conversation, Scully focused her 
attention on the choir. 

"It was stupid, really. I bet Scully I could answer some 
kid's question about pokemon."

"What was it?" Langly was intrigued; this topic was 
in his domain. 

"The kid wanted to know who Evee evolved into 
when you use the thunderstone."

"Oh, yeah, Jolteon. Man you lucked out. That's a no 
brainer, Mulder."

Scully reached across the table, grabbing Langly's 
arm just as he was about to put his sandwich in his 
mouth.  The burger slipped out of his grasp and glopped 
onto the table.

"Hey, if you wanted some, all you had to do was ask," 
Langly griped, cleaning up the mess.

"Langly. Isn't the answer 'Flareon'?"

Scully motioned Mulder to sit back down in his seat as 
her partner made moves to head toward the men's room.

"Mulder, don't you even think about getting up out of 
that chair."

"Scully, when you gotta go. You gotta go."

"Mulder, I don't care if pee starts dribbling down your 
leg, you're not moving."

Answering her question as he wiped catsup off his 
fingers, Langly said, "No, Flareon evolves with the 
firestone. Jolteon evolves with the thunderstone."

"Mulder, you were wrong! Those boys didn't even know 
it."

Glaring daggers at Langly, Mulder watched as Scully got 
out of her seat, heading toward the choir director who 
was starting to gather his group's belongings. After 
several seconds of conversation, he noticed the man 
looking in his direction. Smiling broadly, the band 
director handed Scully his microphone.

Turning the microphone on, Scully began speaking. 
"Ladies and gentlemen. In the spirit of the season, one 
of the FBI's finest, Agent Mulder, would like to pay off 
a holiday bet. For your listening pleasure, I give you 
Fox Mulder and his rendition of one of Elvis Presley's 
holiday songs."

Getting up out of his chair, Mulder turned to Langley. 
"I'll get you for this. There's no place you can hide -- 
no hole big enough for you to crawl into. I know people 
in the IRS. Your ass is sooo mine."

Not wanting to give her the satisfaction, Mulder smiled 
broadly as he took the microphone from Scully.

Turning to the music director, Mulder asked, "I don't 
suppose your orchestra knows Blue Christmas?"

The kids behind him took their instruments back out of 
their cases. "Blue Christmas" was in their inventory.

"Alright, folks, I apologize in advance to both you 
and the King."

As the orchestra began to play, Mulder beckoned Scully 
to join him on stage. Knowing his knees were probably 
shaking, she acquiesced. The fact that Mulder had sung
in his high school choir had never come up in 
conversation. He saw no sense in enlightening her now.

"I'LL HAVE A BLUE CHRISTMAS WITHOUT YOU
I'LL BE SO BLUE THINKING ABOUT YOU
DECORATIONS OF RED ON A GREEN CHRISTMAS TREE
WON'T MEAN A THING, DEAR, IFYOU'RE NOT HERE WITH ME.

AND WHEN THOSE BLUE SNOWFLAKES START FALLIN'
THAT'S WHEN THOSE BLUE HEARTACHES START CALLIN'
YOU'LL BE DOING ALL RIGHT WITH YOU CRHRISTMAS OF WHITE
BUT I'LL HAVE A BLUE, BLUE CHRISTMAS."
    
Finishing the last haunting notes, Mulder looked deeply 
into her eyes. 

"Merry Christmas, Scully."

"Merry Christmas, Mulder."

"So kiss her already," shouted the gray haired Grandma 
they'd run into earlier in the day.

Mulder was happy to comply - very, very happy to comply.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
CHAPTER TWO: MULDER, THE RED NOSED AGENT
*Later that same evening*
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


CLICK!

SNAP!

CLICK!

"Out of my way, Frohike! Where is he?" Mulder bellowed, 
pushing his way into the gunman's lair as soon as the 
last lock snapped open.

"Where is that lame excuse for a Woodstock reject!

"Glad to see you, too," Frohike mumbled as Mulder's 
shove sent him careening off balance into Byers, who was 
seatedat a computer terminal.

"Watch it, Frohike! It took me an hour to get into this 
site," groused Byers.

"Hey, I'm not the one with the lousy social manners. 
Talk to Mulder. He's the one with a bur up..."

Langly, where the hell are you?" Mulder yelled, poking 
his head into various empty rooms.

Byers, typing furiously at his keyboard, shouted over 
his shoulder, "He's not here!"

Mulder stopped mid-stride, his hand poised at the 
doorknob of another room. If Frohike had said that, he'd 
probably have continued his search.  But, Byers, he was 
such an open book. He couldn't even play passable poker 
because it just wasn't in him to bluff.

The few times he'd helped with covert operations, such 
as Mulder's impromptu hospital break to Antarctica, 
Byers had been a basket case. It was fortuitous all he'd 
had to do was lie in the hospital bed that day. 
Apparently, his skin had taken on such a frightening 
grayish pallor, Skinner had thought he'd passed out.

"So, where'd the scrungy beatnik get to anyway? I told 
him I'd find him. I'm going to lop off his goldy locks," 
Mulder griped, sitting in the vacant seat next to Byers.

Byers didn't miss a keystroke. "So, Mulder, I hear 
I missed a 'classic' day at the mall today."

"Oh, Yeah ... Classic," moaned Frohike.

"Hickey, get it out of the gutter."

"Oh but, Mulder, it was sooooo good. Dr. Scully can give 
me another tonsillectomy, anytime."

"If you don't lay off. You'll be seeing her again in her 
professional capacity - the morgue's got all these 
little drawers, especially sized for trolls like you."

With Mulder still seated, Frohike was able to look him 
directly in the eye and jab his finger into Mulder's
chest.  "Hey, you got problems with Langly, you take it 
out on Langly. Leave me and the delicious Agent Scully 
out of your vengeful tirades."

"Where's the lovely, 'Dana', anyway?"

"I dropped her home," Mulder admitted, beginning to calm 
down. 

Letting the screensaver take over, Byers swirled his 
chair around so he could face his friends. 

"What's got you so upset with Langly anyway? From what I 
hear, he only forced you to ante up."

Mulder grimaced, "Due to Langley's compunction for the 
truth, I had to sing "Blue Christmas" during the food 
court's dinner rush. That's not exactly doing a friend a 
favor."

"No but I call setting the stage for a little holiday 
nookie a favor, man," came a voice from the open front 
door. Langly stepped inside, his arms full of Chinese 
take-out. "You oughtta be writing sonnets to me, old 
buddy. I sure didn't hear any complaints coming from you 
while you and Agent Scully sucked face."

Coffee sputtered from a startled Byers. Frohike emitted 
a long wolf whistle, chanting, "Who's da man, who's da 
man!" And Mulder brought his startled eyes up to a 
grinning Langly. Noting Langly's head moving slowly side 
to side, Mulder realized Langly hadn't told his fellow 
cohorts about he and Scully's spontaneous lip-lock, 
until now ... If Mulder hadn't shown up on their 
doorstep, Langly would have continued to respect his 
privacy. Now, however, Mulder might as well have taken 
out a billboard in Times Square.

"Uh...guys."

"So, Mulder, give it up already. Did you enjoy your 
holiday cheer?" inquired Langly, putting the steaming 
white boxes down on the table. 

"Big lug!" Frohike walked over to Mulder, giving his arm 
a good-natured whack. "I'm deeply offended. She's 
stepping out on me already. What would she want with a 
tall, dark, drink of water like you when she could have 
a compact, raging dynamo like me?"

"Frohike, I am not going to stand here one-upping each 
other with 'I've kissed Scully stories'. This is beyond 
juvenile."

"Afraid you'll come out on the short end, huh?" Frohike 
grabbed a pair of chopsticks and a box of cashew 
chicken.

Byers, joining the others at the table, snatched his own 
set of chopsticks. He looked pensive as though he had 
found himself in the middle of a story and was trying to 
get caught up. The fact that Scully had been sitting on 
Frohike's lap and kissed him was startling enough to 
wrap his brain around. But that was a bad joke gone 
"good", at least in Frohike's eyes.

Catching Mulder's gaze from across the table, Byers 
looked deeply. Beneath the obviously feigned anger at 
Langly and the banal banter with Frohike, Byers saw a 
changed man. Silently, Byers questioned his friend. 
"This is good, right?"

Nodding imperceptibly in return, Mulder peacefully 
acknowledged the truth in their non-verbal exchange. 
"Yes, this is very good."

Straddling a chair he'd pulled out from the table, 
Mulder reached into the middle of the fray. 

"Frohike, quit hoarding the cashew chicken." Mulder 
grabbed the box out of Frohike's hands.

"Mulder, your table manners are pitiful," Frohike 
flipped his chopsticks end over end and hit Mulder in 
the head.

"I wouldn't damage the goods, Frohike. I think Agent 
Scully's got plans for him," Langly joked, snapping the 
top off his beer bottle. "From the look she gave him, 
I'd say you'd better pass our boy some broccoli and beef 
too. He's going to need his strength."

Standing, Frohike raised his beer bottle in the air. 
Seeing his demeanor, the others looked questioningly at 
each other. What was he up to?

"Lift 'em high, gents. I propose a toast."

Byers, Langly and, eventually, Mulder, all raised their 
bottles. With a seriousness, that belied their previous 
bantering, Frohike began his toast.

"To Agents Mulder and Scully. It's about time."

With the sounds of clinking glass and hearty echoes of 
"about time" ringing in his ears, Mulder wondered, "What 
was Scully doing right now?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
*11:00pm, SAME EVENING
DANA SCULLY'S APT
~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~~


Turning off the water tap and wrenching open the shower 
curtain, Scully scrambled for a towel. "Blast!" she 
thought as she heard the phone ringing.

Running from the bathroom, she left behind a trail of 
expletives, a pathway of water, and scattered clothing 
from the laundry hamper she knocked over in her haste. 
As it was, the machine had already picked up by the time 
she got to her bedroom phone. 

She heard her mom's voice. "Dana, Dana. If you're there, 
honey, please pick-up."

Punching the buttons to turn off the pre-recorded 
message, Scully scrambled to pick up the receiver before 
her mother hung up.

"Don't hang up, Mom. I'm here."

"Oh, I thought maybe you and Fox hadn't made it back 
from your last assignment."

"No, we finished up early," Scully answered, wrapping 
the bath sheet around her. Putting the cordless phone 
under her chin, she headed for the kitchen.

"Well, good. Then you'll be able to make it to Carol's 
tomorrow for her Christmas Open House?"

Scully put the tea kettle on to boil and re-adjusted her 
precarious towel. She strolled into her bedroom and 
grabbedher suitcase off the floor. Hefting it onto the 
bed, she clenched her chin tighter into the phone, 
trapping it againsther should as she tried to keep the 
phone in place whileshe messed with the suitcase clasps.

"Yeah, I was planning on going. You want me to pick you 
up after Mass?"

"Sure, honey, that would be lovely. We haven't had a 
chance to really talk in awhile."

"No we haven't. I'd love to catch up." Scully rummaged 
through her suitcase looking for her robe. Not finding 
it, she slammed the suitcase closed.

"Damn."

"Is something the matter, Dana?" 
 
"No, I must have gotten my robe mixed in with Mulder's 
things when I was pack-" 

Realizing how that sounded, Scully let the rest of the 
sentence dangle like a pesky participle.

"Dana, is there something you'd like to tell me?"

CLICK!

"Uh, Mom, hold on a minute. I've got another call." 
Scully hurriedly switched to the other party using her 
call-waiting feature.

"Woman, 'Fickle' is thy name," breathed the voice on the 
other end of the line.

"Frohike, is that you?"

"Discard me like an old pair of shoes. Throw my heart on 
the floor. Squash my hopes and dreams with your size six 
stilettos. Until there's nothing left but ... squashed 
...uh ... well, squashed-"

"Frohike, are you drunk?" 

"No, I just have a pleasant, <burp> buzz..zz..zzz"

"Frohike, I assure you I could have gone all day without 
that sound in my ear."

"Sorry, 'scuse me for my poor manners."

"Hang on, Frohike, my mom's on the other line. I'll get 
back to you in a minute." 

Scully switched back to her mother, forgetting that her 
momhad the memory of an elephant.

"Mom, I'm sorry. It's Frohike. He's drunk. I should 
probably talk to him. I'll call you..."

"Whoa, young lady, don't you hang up on me. I want to 
know why your bathrobe is in Fox's luggage." Margaret 
Scully refused to be pushed aside that easily.

Exasperatedly, Scully took off for the kitchen where her 
teakettle was piping a piercing tune. Removing the 
kettle from the burner and turning off the stove, Scully 
grabbed, once more, at the towel's edges that were 
threatening to dislodge.

"Look, Mom, it's nothing. Mulder went to check out of 
the hotel, and I said I'd finish..."

Just then Scully heard her cell phone chirping. Digging 
through the pocket of her overcoat, she reluctantly 
pulled out the phone. Since it was probably worked 
related,she needed to take the call.

" Hold on, Mom, I've gotta get my cell phone." 

She placed the cordless phone down on the end table 
next to the couch and placed her cell phone to her ear.

"Scully." 

"Oh hey, Scully, it's me."

"Mulder?"

"Yea, Mulder. What you wearing, Scully?"

Standing there freezing, dressed only in a ratty old 
bathsheet, Scully wasn't in the mood to play games.
 
"You've got to be kidding, right? I thought it was work 
calling, Mulder."

"Nope, just me. Couldn't get through on your home line. 
Phone was busy. You're a regular Social.. Uh... you 
know...um... Butterfly. Yeah, that's it, butterfly."

"Mulder, you're drunk. Where are you?"

"I'm at the...."

"Hold that thought, Mulder, I left my mom hanging on the 
other phone."

Scully went to grab her cordless phone and lost her 
towel from its precarious position. Getting her feet 
tangled in the terry cloth, she stumbled into the couth 
and stubbedher toe on the end table, throwing the phone 
onto the couch. 

Now ... totally naked and cold she hopped on her foot. 

"Damn, damn, damn it all to Hell. I just wanted to take
a shower, and here I am freezing my ass-" 
 
Realizing her mother had just been privy to that entire 
tirade, Scully picked up her cordless phone.

"Mom, I'm sorry."

"Honey, are you alright? Was that Fox you were talking 
to on your cell phone?" Mrs. Scully asked, concern 
edging out the laugher in her voice.

"Yeah, it's Mulder. I'm fine. Just dropped my towel and 
the phone and stubbed my toe." 

Scully grabbed both phones, glaring into the receivers 
andheaded for her bedroom. She was going to find a t-
shirt and a pair of boxers she could put on. She was 
tired of performing in the Theatre of the Absurd.

"OH, Shi..shoot, Mom. I forgot Frohike. I left him on 
hold. Hang on a minute. I still want to explain."

Scully threw one of Mulder's old Knicks t-shirts on over 
her head as she punched the button transferring her back 
to Frohike.

"Frohike?"

"Frohike?" she asked again. Listening carefully she 
could hear gentle snoring coming through the receiver.

"FROHIKE!"  she screamed trying to wake him up. 

"Agent Scully?"

"Byers, is that you? Where's Frohike?"

Looking down at Frohike, slouched down in the chair, 
dead to the world, drool slipping between his pursed 
lips, Byers answered, "Uh... I guess he's tired. He fell 
asleep."

"Right, fell asleep," Scully mocked. "He passed out, 
Byers. You want to tell me why a drunken Frohike decided 
to call me?"

"To congratulate you, maybe?" 

"To congratulate me? About what?" A dawning realization 
came to Scully - drunk Frohike and Mulder spelled 
trouble.

"Hold that thought, Byers. I've got Mulder on the other 
phone."

Picking up her cell phone, Scully asked, "Mulder, where 
are you?"

Looking over the front seat at the driver, Mulder 
answered, "I'm in a cab, Scully. Me and ...uh... it's, 
Ray, right?Ray, the cab driver.. are in a cab. 

Noticing how Mulder seemed quite pleased with his verbal 
accomplishments, Scully firgured she had better take 
advantage of his lucid moment. 

"Mulder, have you been with the Lone Gunmen? And would 
it be any stretch of the imagination to say, you've been 
getting sloshed?"

"Sloshed?" Mulder slurred.

"Yeah, sloshed as in pickled, inebriated, drunk, 
smashed, stoned, feeling no pain."

"Well, I'm not feeling any pain. You feeling any pain, 
Ray? No? Okay, Scully, Ray and me, we aren't feeling any 
pain."

"What did Langly tell the other stooges, Mulder? He 
narked about you kissing me, didn't he?"

"Uh... Technically, yes.. but uh... not until I let the 
cat out of the bag myself," Mulder admitted ruefully.

"DANA. DANA!" Scully heard her mother's voice shouting 
from the other phone. 

How could that be? She thought she'd left Byers on the 
line and her mother on hold.

Placing the cordless phone to her free ear while keeping 
her cell nestled to her other ear, Scully looked around 
the room. Surely there had to be a hidden camera. This 
had to be a set-up.

"Mom? I thought I'd left you on hold."

"You must have hit the transfer button when you put the 
phone down. Dana, what is this about Fox kissing you?"

"Oh God, Mom it's a really long story. Let's just say, I 
lost a bet. Can the rest wait 'til tomorrow?"

"You kissed Mulder 'cause you lost a bet?" Scully's mom 
inquired, while Mulder was screaming in the other ear.

"Whooaa, Scully, you didn't kiss me 'cause you lost a 
bet!" Mulder caught Ray's smirk in the rear view mirror. 
"Don't let your mom think that. I'm no one's booby 
prize. I'm giving the phone to Ray, Scully. You tell 
him. I ain't no booby prize."

"No, Mulder, don't give the phone- Uh... Uh huh, Ray?'

"Ya, mon, it's Ray. This guy's snockered bad, lady ... 
He keeps sayin', 'not someone's booby...', over and 
over, 'not someone's booby."

"I understand, Ray. Just give Mulder back the phone, 
okay?"

"Sure, no problem, mon"

"And, Ray, I didn't kiss him 'cause I lost a bet."

"Gotcha' lady. Here's your man." Ray tossed the phone 
over the seat to Mulder. "Hey, mon, she as pretty as she 
sounds?"

"Yeah, she's pretty. And she's mine."

"I hear ya, brother. I hear ya."

"Dana?"

"Yes, Mom." Scully slid onto the couch, throwing her 
legs up under her as she pulled an afghan down to cover 
her. Smiling, she was brought back from eavesdropping on 
Mulder and Ray's conversation.

"You are going to explain this all, aren't you?"

"Just one more minute, Mom. I need to get back to 
Byers."

"Dana, I thought you were talking to Frohike?"

"I was, I think, uh... I don't really know any more, but 
hold on and I'll get rid of whomever."

Clicking the transfer button once again, Scully 
hesitantly whispered. 

"Byers you still there?"

"Yeah, Scully, I'm here."

"I'm going to hang up now, Byers. Tell, Frohike, ...ah , 
hell, forget it. He probably won't remember this 
conversation anyway."

"Umm, Agent Scully?"

"Yes."

"Congratulations, on umm... You know what I mean," Byers 
stammered.

"Thanks, John, I know."

As Byers hung up, Scully took a deep breath, bracing 
herself for her mom's questions. As she transferred to 
her mom one last time, she thought, 'I feel like I'm in 
a Monty Python routine. Always look on the bright side 
of life...ta, da, ta, da...'

"Mom?"

"Yes, Dana."

"I've hung up the other line."

"Good, now maybe we can finish our talk."

BZZZZZZZZZZZ!!

"Uh, Mom, it's the door."

"Okay, Dana, I can see this conversation is not going 
anywhere real quick. We'll talk tomorrow, honey. And 
Dana?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Bring Fox. I think I'd like to talk to him too."

"I'll ask him. Goodnight, Mom."

"Goodnight, Dana."

Scully swore she could hear laughing from her mother's 
end as she hung up. I'm glad she thinks this is funny. 
Hopping into the boxers she'd been trying to put on for 
the last ten minutes, Scully grabbed her gun off the 
kitchen table. With her luck she'd find old Smokey on 
the other side of the door, ready to offer up his 
'congratulations'.

Peering through the peephole, she saw a very loopy 
Mulder, with a most disgruntled face.

She opened the door and stepped aside so he could enter.

"I ain't no booby prize, Scully." 

Just inside the door, Mulder slid down the wall, his 
butthitting the wooden floor with a thump as his head 
conkedthe door frame. Slowly ... ever so slowly, his 
bodyleaned starboard, until he was stretched out in her 
entryway. He unknowingly joined Frohike in the land of 
Nod.

Placing a gentle kiss against his lips, Scully 
whispered, "No, Mulder you're definitely not the booby 
prize." 

~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~

*2:00am, still Dana Scully's apartment*


Strains of Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" floated 
through the living room. His was not the voice of 
angels, but there was something about that song. 
Christmas just wouldn't be Christmas without Bing.

Listening to  "White Christmas" reminded her of her 
grandfather. He had been in the Battle of the Bulge 
during World War II. Because of his knowledge of German 
and French, he was an army radio operator and 
translator.

She could remember the gentle ribbing every holiday 
between her and her granddad. She would pray for the 
first holiday snow, delighting in a world blanketed in 
white. He would tell her how "White Christmas" reminded 
him of being fanny deep in the freezing cold of winter 
during one of the war's bloodiest battles. With a hug 
and a kiss year after year, they'd agree to disagree.

Scully was wrapped in the warmth of terry cloth.  She 
had dug through her closet, finding the well-worn robe 
shoved way back in a corner. Since her other one was 
still AWOL, this one would have to do. 

She was seated on her living room couch, her feet tucked 
beneath her, and an afghan thrown over her legs. She 
held a steaming mug of tea in her hands, cradling it 
gently to her lips. Bing was still crooning, the fire 
was blazing, and the tree lights were twinkling. There 
was a gentle snow falling right outside her window. 
Nothing drastic. No blizzard. Just the slow, aching drop 
of perfect flakes.

The lights were off, save the one small one over her 
kitchen stove. Shadows danced with the small tendrils of 
flickering firelight. The twinkling tree lights gave a 
fairy like quality to the darkened room. There was a 
hush over the world, the quiet slumber existing in the 
morning's wee hours. Not a sound besides Bing disturbed 
her contemplation.

Until now.

"Oh God, I've died and gone to Bedford Falls." Mulder's 
croaked from his corner of the floor.

"No, Mulder, I don't think you could say this is your 
Wonderful Life."

"Nope, Scully. In my life's version of the movie, I 
don't find myself waking up on your hardwood floors. 
Something a little softer comes to mind."

"Hey, I tried to move you. You're the one who refused to 
budge, saying, 'sol right, just wanna sleep...'" she 
slurred, imitating his inebriated condition.

Mulder pushed aside the covers that were tangled around 
him.

"I appreciate the blanket and pillow. Nice touch. Leave 
the drunk on the floor, but at least layer him in goose 
feathers and down."

Placing her mug on the end table, Scully got up, moving 
over to where Mulder lay in her entryway. She grasped 
both his hands, helping him pull himself up from his 
supine position. He leaned back, his head against her 
door, a moment of deja vu upon him. He tried shaking his 
head to clear the haze, but discovered that was an 
unbelievably stupid idea.

Grasping his head with both hands, Mulder shakily asked, 
"Would you please turn that music down. I don't need any 
more sleigh bells jingling in my head."

Scully flipped the stereo switch. "Better?"

"I'm not sure. You wouldn't by any chance be hearing 
"Joy to the World" would you?"

"'The Three Dog Night' version?"

"No, the 'Hark', it's Harold and his angels version," 
Mulder whined, doing his best to come to a standing 
position and failing miserably.

"Nope, not hearing a thing." Scully grasped his forearm, 
forestalling him from swaying into the tree.

"That's what I figured."

"Mulder, you're looking a particularly nasty shade of 
green at this moment."

"That's good, Scully, because I'm feeling pretty putrid. 
In fact..." 

Mulder lurched from her grasp, charging with a hurried, 
unsteady gate down her hallway as quickly as his swaying 
legs would allow. Heading into the bathroom, he thought 
heheard her scream.

"Mulder, you'd better make it. I'm telling you right 
now. I don't do throw-up!"


xxxxxxxx


Moments later Scully pushed open the bathroom door 
several inches. She extended her arm through the door, 
but only the distance needed for Mulder to grab the new 
toothbrush box from her hand. She heard sounds of 
running tap water and frantic teeth brushing.

"You okay in there, Mulder?" she inquired solicitously, 
wanting to give him a modicum of privacy.

"I've made my donation to the porcelain god, if that's 
what you're asking." Mulder's voice was muffled around a 
mouthfullof toothpaste. "And before you ask, donations 
were delivered directly into his waiting maw. No side 
trips along the way."

Mulder turned off the water, fully opening the bathroom 
door. Permission was granted. She could enter. 

He stood in front of the mirror, examining his red eyes 
and the puffy shadows beneath them. He gestured to the 
disheveled man reflected in the glass. Here was a man, 
whose rumpled suit and five o'clock shadow made him look 
like Red Skelton's version of the pour soul. Mulder 
grimaced.

"Scully, you kissed that?" 

"Yeah, hard to believe, isn't it?" She slapped a clean 
towel down on the vanity. Turning her back on him, she 
left the room.

Washing his face and running his wet fingers through his 
spiky hair, Mulder sneered at his reflection.

"I wouldn't kiss you either. You are such a sorry son of 
a..."

The rest of his words were lost as Mulder, once again, 
staggered into the drunkard's cathedral. After further 
donations were delivered, and he went through a repeat 
clean-up, Mulder remembered at least one thing very 
clearly. This is why he rarely drank. He didn't need 
this kind of help in making a bigger ass out of himself 
than normal. 

After throwing his dirty towel on top of Scully's 
hamper, Mulder turned off the bathroom light. Unsteadily 
shufflingback towards Scully's living room, he heard the 
faint strains of Emerson, Lake and Palmer. Scully was 
definitely eclectic with her holiday selections. 


"I wish you a hopeful Christmas.
I wish you a brave New Year.
All anguish, pain and sadness,
Leave your heart and let your road be clear."  


"Feeling better?"

"Better is a relative term, Scully. I'm feeling 'rode 
hard and put away wet.'" 

Mulder reached into her kitchen cabinet and grabbed a 
large tumbler. Turning on the tap, he filled his glass 
with cool water.

"Got any aspirin?"

"One cabinet over. Fill that glass to the top, Mulder. 
You need every ounce of water. Your body's dehydrated."

Quite aware that aspirin, sleep, and lots of water were 
the only true remedies for a hangover, Scully felt 
Mulder needed more penance than that. He and the Lone 
Gunmen had gotten her into a fix with her mother and he 
should pay.

So, she stood at her kitchen counter, with a selection 
of booze at the ready. 

"Uh, Scully. I think I've had enough for this evening."

"No kidding, Mulder. I want you to pick out what your 
particular poison for the evening has been, and I'm 
going to make you a hangover remedy."

"I thought I just needed to drink lots of water?" Mulder 
suspiciously eyed the variety of alcoholic options.

"That's true; you do need to re-hydrate. However, a 
little home remedy couldn't hurt." Scully's gaze dared 
him to back down.

Mulder grabbed a bottle off the counter.

"Bourbon, Mulder?"

"Well, we started with beer, but quickly ran out. 
Frohike had the bourbon stashed for a special occasion."

"This was a special occasion?" Scully's eyebrow poked up 
asshe filled a shot glass full of bourbon.

"I thought so." He tried to meet her eyes, but Scully 
would have none of that. She poured a large glass of 
orange juice, added a couple of raw eggs and a large 
dollop of tobasco. She then added the shot of bourbon.

With a final flourish, she stirred the mixture together.

"Hair of the dog, Scully?"

"Dr. Scully's cure-all for what ails you. Guaranteed to 
diminish that hang over you're already beginning to 
feel."

Looking at the finished product sitting on her counter, 
Mulder tried not to think about the raw eggs and 
bourbon.

"Who does your testimonials, Dr. Scully? Your clientele 
are not noted for stimulating conversation."

Scully handed him the drink and patted him on the cheek, 
not so very gently.  "I don't know about that, Mulder. 
This stuff's been known to raise the dead."

Taking a sniff, Mulder's face grimaced with 
dissatisfaction.

"Can't I just take an Alka Seltzer? You know, 'plop, 
plop, fizz, fizz.' It's always worked before."

"It'll put hair on your chest," she cajoled, noting his 
less than enthusiastic response to her ministrations. 

"Hell, Scully, that'll put hair on my tongue!"

"I promise not to complain if it does." She left him to
ponder her words as she slipped down the hallway to her
bedroom. 

Contemplating the tongue comment and hearing her chorus 
of 'wuss, wuss', Mulder forced the noxious liquid down his 
throat. He feared Scully's cure would probably inflict a 
slow, painful death. He may have been sloshed, but he 
knew her game. This was no home remedy. This was an act 
of retribution, and he couldn't really fault her. 

Scully returned to the living room with arms full of bed 
linens. Noting his curious look, she shoved him toward 
the couch. 

"One kiss does not a bed partner make. Besides, I think 
the only intimacy in your immediate future will include 
bathroom plumbing."

"Yeah, just call me "Roto Rooter." Mulder took the 
bedding from her and settled it on the couch. 

Catching the sleeve of her robe, he pulled Scully gently 
into an embrace. Wrapped tightly around her, he marveled 
at how well she fit up against him. He fought protective 
urges 
that always entered his mind when he was this close. She 
was so small. Their size disparity was never more 
obvious to him than when she was enclosed in his arms. 

But there was strength in her - a strength that 
proclaimed loudly,'I may be small but don't be 
mislead.'  And the vigor of her will was a 
gravitational force, a compulsion not to be ignored. 
The complexities of Scully could fill a book. 

His mind may have been focused on her formidable 
spirit but the rapid beat of his heart detailed 
his response to her beauty. Too bad he was in the 
doghouse and the reality of his upright position 
was more attributed to her balance than his own 
sense of coordination.  

"You owe me, Mulder," she mumbled into his shirt.

"I know. My behavior sucks."

"Yes," pulling away long enough to grab a receipt off 
her end table, "It does. But separate from that, you owe 
me exactly $90.00." 

"What?" He grabbed the receipt from her hand.

"Mulder, you and your new best 'bud', Ray, went 
gallivanting all over D.C. to the tune of $67.50."

Mulder rubbed his eyes, noting two Scullys present in 
his field of vision. And in his current state, that was 
just one Scully too many. 

"Ray?"

"The Jamaican cab driver." Scully handed him another 
glass of water.  

"Ah, Ray." Mulder flopped on the couch as his legs 
finally gave up the ghost. There was a vague 
recollection trying to force itself to the surface of 
his muddled brain.

Forcing the water into his churning stomach, Mulder 
blustered, "Wait a minute, Scully, you said I owed you 
$90.00. Now I may not currently be the sharpest knife in 
the drawer, but that's a difference of... uh... hell, 
that's a big difference."

Watching his valiant attempt at higher cognitive 
function and resounding failure at basic math, Scully 
took pity.

"Mulder, that's Ray's tip. I figure after putting up 
with your crap, the man deserved additional monetary 
compensation."

"Geesh, Scully, that's a 33% tip. He didn't give me a 
kidney, only a ride home."

Mulder noted her surprise that his brain appeared to be 
calculating again. "Don't get your hopes up. It 
comes and goes. And, oh God, I think it's going again."

Taking a few difficult breaths and sliding down deeper 
into the cushions, Mulder successfully fought the rising 
dizziness. He could do it. All he had to do was close 
his eyes to stop the room from spinning.

"Well you were hardly in any shape to determine high 
finances, and Ray did manage to drag your sorry butt in 
here."

"He did?"

"Yeah, I thought you'd arrived by yourself, barely 
making it in time to pass out in my entryway. But then 
Ray came knocking at my door. You told him I'd cover the 
bill."

"Forgot. I used it all at the mall," Mulder slurred, his 
voice beginning to give out.

"Thankfully, I had some I'd put aside for buying gifts." 
Scully loosened his tie and tossed it on the chair 
with his suit jacket. She then pulled off his socks and 
shoes, laying them at the end of the couch. She grabbed 
a small card off the end table and handed it to him.
 
"What's this?" Mulder asked, one eye barely open as he 
tried to focus on what was in her hand.

"Ray's card.  Apparently, somewhere between your 
rendition of Montego Bay and Day'O, you offered to get 
him an interview with the bureau."

Full cognizance returning, Mulder sang softly. 
"Daylight, come and me wanna go home."

"Yep, that's the one." She unbuttoned his shirt at 
the cuffs. Slapping his hands away as he awkwardly tried 
to help, Scully finished off the shirt in short order, 
adding it to the pile on the chair.

"I'm so tired, Scully."

"I know but give up the pants first before you go to 
sleep. "Scully's fingers began to loosen the belt at his 
waist.

"Agent Scully..." Mulder feebly admonished, even as he 
lifted his hips so that she could divest him of his 
trousers. 

Laying his crumpled suit pants with the other articles 
of clothing, Scully pushed him gently back onto the 
couch. 

With a gentle kiss to his forehead,  Scully murmured, 
"Daylight come and you're gonna talk to Mom..."

//Mom?// Mulder thought drifting off to sleep. //I don't 
wanna talk to Mom. I wanna kiss Scully.//

Succumbing to the heavy darkness, Mulder's mind drifted.

It all began with...

... a mall.

...a bet.

Santa... Hickey?...

... a song....
 
...The Kiss!

Groaning, he thought,// too bad it was going to end with 
her mother.//


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
CHAPTER THREE: HARK, IT'S 
MULDER AND HIS ANGELS
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


*11:30am, next morning, Fox Mulder's apartment*


He looked quite presentable. Maybe not "GQ fine", but at 
least not something dismal the cat drug in, either. The 
poor soul he'd seen in Scully's bathroom mirror the 
night before had been replaced by the man ... someone 
who had life all together.

His pupils were clear; there were no lingering bags or 
dark shadows beneath his eyes. He was coiffed, freshly 
scrubbed, teeth brushed, and bright as a new shiny 
penny. 

STYLIN' 

Too bad he felt like crap!

He might as well have spent the night bathing a cat with 
his tongue. Tiny fur balls littered every nook and 
cranny in his mouth. His breath should be quarantined -- 
extreme biohazard.

Good news, he no longer heard "Jingle Bells" or "Joy to 
the World" reverberate in his skull. Bad news, the 
construction crew replacing the choir delivered even 
more mind numbing symphonies. Regrettably, the new 
crew's ability to keep tempo rivaled Scully's capacity 
for singing on key.

"Deck the Halls" took on a whole new meaning when the 
tympani section included jackhammers and blowtorches.

And his stomach... he didn't even want to go there.... 
The coffee he'd forced down earlier was staging a coup 
with his physiology. The caffeine might be dancing 
merrily through his system singing, "It's time to get 
up...it's time to get up... time to get up in the 
moooorning!" But the actual coffee itself battled hand 
to hand in mortal combat with his intestines. 
He feared his colon would win the war. 

Thus it had been ever since he'd woken this morning, 
stretched out in a rumpled heap on Scully's couch. He 
may have gone to bed with "Silent Night" whispering 
sweet lullabies, but he woke up with "The Hallelujah 
Chorus" screaming in his ear.

Before she'd gone to Mass, Scully had set an alarm, 
placing it on the coffee table right next to his head. 
Smacking the impertinent "rooster" off the table into 
the kitchen, Mulder mentally made note to buy her a new 
alarm clock for Christmas. The momentary satisfaction he 
garnered hearing the offending clock smash into the 
refrigerator, didn't make up for the time he had to 
spend on hands and knees picking up tiny glass and 
plastic pieces.

Her warm, welcoming morning message sat on the kitchen 
counter. She'd left the aspirin bottle, a ready-made 
carafe full of hot coffee and his marching orders for 
the day.

"DEAR MULDER,

I HOPE YOU SLEPT WELL. NOW GET YOUR TAIL IN GEAR! I'LL 
BE ATYOUR PLACE NO LATER THAN 11:30A.M TO PICK YOU UP. 
DRESS NICE. MOM'S INVITED YOU TO CAROL'S HOLIDAY OPEN 
HOUSE. YOU'LLGET A CHANCE TO MEET MY GODSON.

SINCE YOU GOT ME INTO THIS MESS WITH MOM, YOU CAN SUFFER 
THETHIRD DEGREE RIGHT ALONG WITH ME.

SCULLY

P.S. DON'T EVEN THINK OF WEASELING OUT OF THIS."


Over the grumble of his stomach, he heard steps in the 
hallway outside the bathroom door. Scully must have let 
herself into his apartment during his last swish and 
spit.

"I've seen worse." Scully poked her head through his 
open doorway, her eyes traveling up and down his form as 
he patted his face dry with a towel.

"I know, but they've all had Y-incisions." Mulder spit 
out his second, or was it third, round of mouthwash. 
Shit, he might as well drink the whole bottle. Kissably 
fresh, right.

"True, but they weren't dressed in J. Crew."

"You like?" 

"I like...." Scully bestowed a soft, lingering kiss to 
his minty fresh lips, trailing her tongue over the edge
of his full bottom lip. 

Maybe he was kissably fresh he thought, wrapping his 
arms around her waist.

Mulder nuzzled her hair.  "So you wanna stay and play?"

Scully looked into his deceptively innocent eyes and 
chuckled. "Don't look for me in your Christmas stocking. 
I think you're on Santa's 'naughty' list."

"Oh, but Scully." Mulder ran his lips down her neck 
to the open collar of her blouse. "I do 'naughty', so 
nice."

Playfully slapping at his nuzzling face, Scully drew him  
into the living room. Seriously, considering the shape 
he'd been in the night before, he was an impressive 
specimen. Maybe there was something to that old family 
"Hair of the dog" recipe after all.

Mulder glanced around the living room.  "Did you leave 
your mother in the car? That seems pretty tacky, 
Scully."

"I called Mom from the church this morning and told her 
I'd be running late. She decided to drive on ahead. It's 
not as far for her. Anyway, I felt you and I needed a 
little time to get our ducks in a row."

"You mean concoct a plausible story?" he snapped on 
his holster and grabbed his keys from the table.

"We don't need to concoct anything. Nothing's happened 
that requires ambiguity. Last night was just a comedy of 
errors, an evening unparalleled in insanity."

Giving her a puzzled look, Mulder ruminated on what she 
had just said. Did she mean everything that happened 
last night defied logic?
 
Everything?
 
Wait a minute. She did kiss him when she arrived this 
morning. Looking into her laughing eyes, he realized he 
was allowing his insecurities to dissect Scully's every 
word, every gesture, every nuance.
 
This was ridiculous. 

Yesterday's kiss may have been born in spontaneity, but 
he had no doubt of her feelings. Deep abiding love stood 
just a breath away.

Leaning in and brushing her lips across his, Scully 
murmured, "Gotcha...."

Grabbing his leather jacket off the back of his chair, 
she tossed it to him. She walked into his kitchen and 
poured a large glass of water from the jug he kept in 
his fridge. She handed it to him, and he scowled, 
draining what he was sure had to be his second gallon of 
water since last night.

Mulder followed through the living room and out the 
door. "Scully, any more liquid and my eyeballs are going 
to float. I hope you're prepared to stop if I need to 
use the little boy's room."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx


"Dana, I'm so glad you could make it."

Sweeping Scully into a warm embrace, Carol tugged her 
inside the foyer.  Including Mulder in her effervescent 
welcome, Carol grabbed him around the middle, for all 
practical purposes squeezing the stuffing out of him. 

Where Scully was petite, Carol was tall, just a few 
inches short of his own 6'1'' height. Scully and Carol, 
auburn and brunette, quiet and boisterous, both 
obviously enamored with the other.

He watched them talk at the same time, stepping over 
each other's words -- each interrupting, finishing the 
other's sentences, jumping from one topic to the next. 

...you've been?"

"It's been hard on Brian...more introverted than ever."

"I know...time."

"Sometimes, it's so difficult..."

It was ease born of familiarity, a camaraderie that came 
with time and shared experience. These women were 
obviously close friends of the heart.

"And you must be Fox. Maggie's told me so much about 
you." 
Carol extended her hand to Mulder, realized they had 
excluded him from their conversation. It was just so 
good to see Dana. Life's circumstances lately had kept 
them apart. She hadn't seen Dana, since her own 
husband's funeral, several months ago. Talking on the 
phone was good. Up close and personal was better.

"Where is Mom?" Dana peered past the louvered doors 
into the kitchen. She knew that's where she'd be, 
helping to make sure everything went smoothly for Carol. 
The Scully's and the Frank's had been connected for 
years. She and Carol had practically grown up together 
as their fathers' posted the same assignments. In fact, 
Bill used to complain he had three sisters instead of 
two. 

Until the year he noticed Carol had developed much more 
than a sparkling personality. No longer was she a 
nuisance tagalong, as his kid sister was, but she was 
fuel for a young man's fantasies. He'd even gone so far 
as to ask her out once, but she had sliced him down by 
snottily informing him, "Bill, that would be like dating 
my brother. And that's beyond majorgross! " 

Scully knew Maggie would be close. 

"Dana."

Scully turned to see her mother coming up beside Mulder. 
Maggie Scully gave him a tender kiss on the cheek. 
Mulder returned her affectionate greeting. 

"Mrs. Scully. It's good to see you again."

"Fox, after all we've been through. Don't you think you 
could call me Maggie?"

"Maggie," he acknowledged, noticing Scully's wicked grin 
behind her mother's head.

"Dana, how about you and I go take a look at the tree," 
Maggie Scully said, linking arms with her daughter. "I'm 
sure Carol will take good care of Mulder."

Mulder noticed how quickly Scully's grin turned inward. 
She was no longer smirking as her mother pulled her into 
the living room. In fact, Mulder thought he saw Scully 
wearing his panic face. Carol, on the other hand was not 
going to let him off the hook either.

Tucking her arm in his and pulling him to the dining 
room holiday buffet, Carol began her interrogation.

"So Fox,... may I call you, Fox..."

"Uh... Mulder, I really prefer..."

Xxxxxxxxxxxx


With a heaping plate steeped in holiday favorites, 
Mulder found a seat over by the fireplace hearth. The 
heat, emanating from the roaring fire, made him feel a 
little bit like a bag of roasted chestnuts. However, he 
sweated through the misery because this location 
afforded several positives. What was it they said, 
"Everything is location, location, location."

First of all, he was partially hidden by the tree. He 
had visual of the room, but for the most part he was 
obscured. Secondly, if worse came to worse, he could 
hide his plate of Christmas goodies. He'd already scoped 
out a spot, between the large green package and the one 
decked in garish, gold foil. A temporary cease-fire had 
been declared between he and his stomach. But, like all 
truces, there usually was one remaining battle. He 
wanted to be prepared.

Picking at the food Carol had gleefully piled high on 
his plate, Mulder was momentarily distracted. That was 
all it took. Feeling her presence, Mulder smiled.

"Mrs. Scu...Maggie," he finished, noting her admonishing 
grin.

"Fox."

Mulder chuckled. Maggie was one of the few people who 
refused to call him Mulder. She seemed to take great 
delight every time she said, "Fox".

"Uh, Maggie, I apologize for my disgraceful behavior 
last night. I was..."

"...feeling no pain," she finished, patting his arm 
gently. "Although, from the looks of things, you're not 
out of the woods yet."

"Well, the jackhammer's gone on break, but it's been 
replaced with a repeating staple gun. My diminished 
capacity excuse is, however, diminishing. I'll live, 
right?" He looked hopefully into her eyes. They both 
knew he was not talking about recovery from this 
hangover. 

Hearing laughter from across the room, Mulder and Mrs. 
Scully spotted Dana and Carol engaged in lively 
conversation with another group of guests. Scully was 
beautiful. Animatedly giggling and carrying on, she 
looked happy. 

"Fox, you do this for her," Maggie whispered, noting his 
fascination with Scully's vitality.

Seeing his hesitation, she continued, "You can't live on 
'what ifs', Fox. The reality is that you and Dana are 
involved with things I can't even begin to comprehend. 
But I do believe God places the right people, in the 
right places, at the right time. You and Dana have a 
destiny."

"Maggie, there's been such pain. Scully's gone through 
so much."

"And from what I understand, she'll likely go through 
more."

Maggie noted the intensity of his gaze upon her.
 
"Mulder, I'm not naive. What you two do, scares the hell 
out of me. And from the small amounts I've gleamed from 
Dana, I realize your relationship will never be the 
stuff of mother-in-law's fantasies. But, Fox, look at 
her."

Mulder turned to see Scully staring at the two of them. 
She had a wistful smile on her face.  The deafening 
conversation was still going on around her, but her 
focus was totally narrowed on him. 

"Why must you two be so alone when it's obvious to the 
world around you that no two people ever fit so well 
together?" Maggie said, leaning in and placing another 
gentle kiss upon his cheek. "Conspiracies be damned, 
Mulder..." 

"Fox... call me Fox," Mulder placed an endearing kiss 
upon Maggie's lips.

"Making time with my mother?" Scully sat down on 
the carpet in front of him.

Mulder affectionately pulled Scully up on to his lap. 
"It's hard to turn down the Scully charm." 

"I don't see a beard or red coat, Santa."

"I belong to a more enlightened Santa organization. One 
made up only of psychologists. We feel the whole 
"costume thing" can be terribly intimidating to some -- 
ranks right up therewith scaring children with clowns."

"I'm not intimidated, Mulder." Scully tightened her arms 
around his neck.

"Oh but I am, Scully. I've seen the indomitable spirit 
of the Scully women.

Music began. A group had gathered across the room around 
the Baby Grand. Robert, the man Carol was dating, was 
banging out Jingle Bell Rock. The revelers were in fine 
voice and spirit.

"Come on you three. Come join us," Carol cajoled, 
sliding her arm over Maggie's shoulders.

Looking back to where Mulder and Scully were still 
wrapped in their own little world of gentle touches and 
soothing words, Carol coaxed, "Mulder, I hear you do a 
mean "Blue Christmas". You're next up."

Grabbing Scully's bottom lip in a playful nip, Mulder 
stood. 

"You're gonna pay, Scully. You're gonna pay."
---------------------------------------------------

TITLE: A Moose and Squirrel Christmas: Epilogue 1
AUTHOR: Dlynn
RATING: PG
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere but I'd appreciate being 
notified so that I would know where it is. My brother, in 
Ohio, might want to visit.
FEEDBACK: dlynn1550@my-deja.com
SPOILERS: You need to have read "A Moose and Squirrel 
Christmas" for this to make any sense. You can find that 
story at ephem.
SUMMARY: This very short vignette follows Moose and Squirrel 
on the same day.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: After several people asked that I follow up 
Moose and Squirrel, I decided to write a couple of 
epilogues. This is the first.
DISCLAIMOR: I do not own Mulder, Scully, The lonegunmen, or 
anything else pertaining to the x-files. I realize that all 
things x belong to Fox, Chris Carter and 1014 productions.

A Moose and Squirrel Christmas: Epilogue 1


CLICK!

SNAP!

CLICK!

"Out of my way Frohike! Where is he?" Mulder bellowed, 
pushing his way into the gunman's lair as soon as the last 
lock snapped open.

"Where is that lame excuse for a Woodstock reject!

"Glad to see you, too," Frohike mumbled as Mulder's shove 
sent him careening off balance into Byer's, sitting at a 
computer terminal.

"Watch it Frohike! It took me an hour to get into this 
site," groused Byers.

"Hey, I'm not the one with the lousy social manners. Talk to 
Mulder. He's the one with a bur up."

Langley, where the hell are you?" Mulder shouted, poking his 
head into various empty rooms.

Byers, typing furiously at his keyboard, shouted over his 
shoulder, "He's not here!"

Mulder stopped mid-stride, his hand poised at the doorknob 
of another room. If Frohike had said that, he'd probably 
have continued his search.  But, Byers, God he was such an 
open book. He couldn't even play passable poker because it 
just wasn't in him to bluff.

The few times he'd helped with covert operations, like 
Mulder's impromptu hospital break to Antarctica, Byer's had 
been a basket case. It was fortuitous all he'd had to do was 
lie in the hospital bed that day. Apparently, his skin had 
taken on such a frightening grayish pallor, Skinner had 
thought he'd passed out.

"So, where'd the scrungy beatnik get to anyway? I told him 
I'd find him. I'm going to lop off his goldy locks," Mulder 
griped, sitting in the vacant seat next to Byers.

Without missing a keystroke, Byers said, "So, Mulder, I hear 
I missed a "classic" day at the mall today."

"Oh, Yeah.. Classic," moaned Frohike.

"Hickey, get it out of the gutter."

"Oh, but, Mulder, it was sooooo good. Dr. Scully can give me 
another tonsillectomy, anytime."

"If you don't lay off. You'll be seeing her again in her 
professional capacity--- the morgue's got all these little 
drawers, especially sized for trolls like you."

With Mulder still seated, Frohike was able to look him 
directly in the eye. Jabbing his finger, into Mulder's 
chest, he said, "Hey, you got problems with Langley, you 
take it out on Langley. Leave me, and the delicious, Agent 
Scully, out of your vengeful tirades."

Looking back to the locked door, Frohike asked, "Where's the 
lovely, 'Dana', anyway?"

"I dropped her home," Mulder admitted, beginning to calm 
down. 

Letting the screensaver take over, Byer's swirled his chair 
around so he could face his friends. 

"What's got you so upset with Langley anyway? From what I 
hear, he only forced you to ante up."

Mulder grimaced, "Due to Langley's compunction for the 
truth, I had to sing "Blue Christmas" during the food 
court's dinner rush. That's not exactly doing a friend a 
favor."

"No, but I call setting the stage for a little holiday 
nookie, a favor, man," came a voice from the open front 
door. Langley stepped inside, his arms full of Chinese take-
out. "You oughtta be writing sonnets to me, old buddy. I 
sure didn't hear any complaints coming from you while you 
and Agent Scully sucked face."

Coffee sputtered from a startled Byer's. Frohike emitted a 
long wolf whistle, chanting, "Who's the man, who's the man!" 
And, Mulder, brought his startled eyes up to a grinning 
Langley. Noting Langley's head moving slowly side to side, 
Mulder realized Langley hadn't told his fellow cohorts about 
he and Scully's spontaneous lip-lock. He  had respected 
their privacy. Mulder, on the other hand, might as well have 
taken out a billboard in Times Square.

"Uh.guys."

"So, Mulder, give it up, already. Did you enjoy your holiday 
cheer?" inquired Langley, putting the steaming white boxes 
down on the table. 

"Big lug!" Frohike walked over to Mulder, giving his arm a 
good-natured whack. "I'm deeply offended. She's stepping out 
on me already. What would she want with a tall, dark, 
drink of water like you when she could have a compact, 
raging dynamo, like me?"

"Frohike, I am not going to stand here one-upping each other 
with 'I've kissed Scully stories'. This is beyond juvenile."

"Afraid you'll come out on the short end, huh?" Frohike 
said, grabbing a pair of chopsticks and a box of cashew 
chicken.

Byers, joining the others at the table, grabbed his own set 
of chopsticks. He looked pensive, like he had found himself 
in the middle of a story and was trying to get caught up. 
The fact that Scully had been sitting on Frohike's lap and 
kissed him was startling enough to wrap his brain around. 
But, that was a  bad joke, gone "good", at least in 
Frohike's eyes.

Catching Mulder's eyes across the table, Byers looked 
deeply. Beneath the obviously feigned anger at Langley and 
the banal banter with Frohike, Byer's saw a changed man. 
Silently, Byers questioned his friend, "This is good, 
right?"

Nodding imperceptibly in return, Mulder peacefully 
acknowledged the truth in their non-verbal exchange. "Yes, 
this is very good."

Straddling a chair he'd pulled out from the table, Mulder 
reached into the middle of the fray. 

"Frohike, quit hoarding the cashew chicken," Mulder said, 
grabbing the box out of his hands.

"Geesh, Mulder, your table manners are pitiful," Frohike 
said, flipping his chopsticks end over end and hitting 
Mulder in the head.

"I wouldn't damage the goods, Frohike. I think Agent 
Scully's got plans for him," Langley joked, snapping the top 
off his beer bottle. "From the look she gave him, I'd say, 
you'd better pass our boy some broccoli and beef, too. He's 
going to need his strength."

Standing, Frohike raised his beer bottle in the air. Seeing 
his demeanor, the others looked questioningly at each other. 
What was he up to?

"Life 'em high, gents. I propose a toast."

Byers, Langley and eventually, Mulder, all raised their 
bottles. With a seriousness, that belied their previous 
bantering, Frohike began his toast.

"To Agent's Mulder and Scully. It's about time."

With the sounds of clinking glass and hearty echoes of 
"about time" ringing in his ears, Mulder wondered, "What was 
Scully doing right now?"

---------------
TITLE: A Moose and Squirrel Christmas: Epilogue 2
AUTHOR: Dlynn
RATING: PG
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere, but I would appreciate 
being notified so that I would know where it is. Please, 
keep my name and all headers attached.
FEEDBACK: dlynn1550@my-deja.com  
CATEGORY: Vignette, humor, 
SUMMARY: This is a continuation of A Moose and Squirrel 
Christmas, and A Moose and Squirrel Christmas: Epilogue 1. 
It takes place the same evening as the other two. Scully 
discusses 'the bet' with her mom, et. al.
SPOILERS: very slight one for FTF, mostly you just need to 
have read the other two Moose and Squirrel Christmas 
stories. They are currently at ephemeral. Eventually they'll 
be at gossamer. Millennium isn't a part of this universe, 
for obvious reasons. And, for those that have asked, "no, I 
don't have my own site."
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I couldn't resist continuing the holiday 
fluff. For those of you who asked, "What happened next?" 
Here's your answer.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Mulder, Scully, the Lonegunmen or 
Mrs. Scully. Everything x belongs to Fox, Chris Carter and 
1013 productions.


A Moose and Squirrel Christmas: Epilogue 2

Turning off the water tap and wrenching open the shower 
curtain, Dana Scully scrambled for a towel. "Blast!" she 
thought. "That's the phone."

Running from the bathroom, she left behind a trail of 
expletives, a pathway of water, and scattered clothing from 
the laundry hamper she'd knocked over in her haste. As it 
was, the machine had already picked up by the time she got 
to her bedroom phone. 

She heard her mom's voice. "Dana, Dana. If you're there, 
honey, please pick-up."

Punching the buttons to turn off the pre-recorded message, 
Scully scrambled to pick up the receiver before her mother 
hung up.

"Don't hang up, mom. I'm here."

"Oh, I thought maybe you and, Fox, hadn't made it back from 
your last assignment."

"No, we finished up early," Scully answered, wrapping the 
bath sheet around her. Putting the cordless phone under her 
chin, she headed for the kitchen.

"Well, good. Then you'll be able to make it to Carol's  
tomorrow for her Christmas Open House?"

Putting the teakettle on to boil, Scully replied, "Yea, I 
was planning on it. You want me to pick you up after mass?"

"Sure, honey, that would be lovely. We haven't had a chance 
to really talk in awhile."

"No we haven't. I'd like that a lot," Scully said, rummaging 
through her suitcase looking for her robe. Not finding it, 
she slammed the suitcase closed.

"Damn."

"Is something the matter, Dana?" her mother queried.
 
"No, I, must have gotten my robe mixed in with Mulder's 
things when I was pack.." Realizing how that sounded, Scully 
let the rest of the sentence dangle.

"Dana, is there something you'd like to tell me?"

CLICK!

"Uh, mom, hold on a minute. I've got another call," Scully 
said, switching to the other party using her call-waiting 
feature.

"Woman, 'Fickle' is thy name," breathed the voice on the 
other end of the line.

"Frohike, is that you?"

"Discard me like an old pair of shoes. Throw my heart on the 
floor, squishing it with your size six stilettos. 'Until 
there's nothing left but..

"Frohike, are you drunk?" asked an annoyed Scully.

"No, I just have a pleasant, <burp> buzz..zz..zzz"

"Frohike, I assure you. I could have gone all day without 
that sound in my ear."

"Sorry, 'scuse me for my poor manners."

"Hang on Frohike, my mom's on the other line. I'll get back 
to you in a minute." 

Scully quickly switched back to her mother.

"Mom, I'm sorry, It's Frohike. He's drunk. I should probably 
talk to him. I'll call you.."

"Whoa, young lady, don't you hang up on me. I want to know 
why your bathrobe is in Fox's luggage." Margaret Scully 
said, refusing to be pushed aside.

Exasperatedly, Scully took off for the kitchen where her 
teakettle was piping a piercing tune. Removing the kettle 
from the burner and turning off the stove, Scully grabbed 
the towel's edges that were threatening to dislodge themselves.

"Look, mom, it's nothing. Mulder went to check out of the 
hotel and I said I'd finish.."

Just then Scully heard her cell phone chirping. Digging 
through the pocket of her overcoat, she pulled the thing 
out. Knowing it was probably work related, she said, "Hold 
on, mom, I've gotta get my cell phone." She placed the 
cordless receiver down on the end table next to the couch.

"Scully." She answered.

"Oh, hey, Scully, it's me."

"Mulder?"

"Yea, Mulder. What you wearing, Scully?"

Looking down at herself, dressed in a ratty old bath sheet, 
Scully laughed.
 
"You've got to be kidding, right? I thought it was work 
calling, Mulder."

"Nope, just me. Couldn't get through on your home line. 
Phone was busy. You're a regular Social ..uh.. you know..um. 
Butterfly. Yea, that's it, butterfly."

"Mulder, you're drunk. Where are you?"

"I'm at the..."

"Hold that thought, Mulder, I left my mom hanging on the 
other phone."

Scully went to grab her cordless phone.  Losing her towel 
from its precarious position, she tripped over it, stumbling 
into the couch and stubbing her toe.

"Damn, damn, damn!" she said, hopping on her other foot. 
Realizing her mother had just been privy to that entire 
tirade, Scully picked up her cordless phone.

"Mom, I'm sorry."

"Honey, are you alright? Was that Fox you were talking to on 
your cell phone?" Mrs. Scully asked, concern edging out the 
laugher in her voice.

"Yea, it's Mulder. I'm fine. Just dropped my towel and 
stubbed my toe," Scully said, picking up both phones and 
heading for the bedroom to find a t-shirt and a pair of 
boxers she could put on. This was getting ridiculous. 

"OH, Shi..shoot, mom. I forgot Frohike. I left him on hold. 
Hang on a minute. I still want to explain."

Scully threw one of Mulder's old knick's t-shirts on over 
her head as she punched the button transferring her back to 
Frohike.

"Frohike?"

"Frohike?" she asked again. Listening carefully she could 
hear gentle snoring coming through the receiver.

"FROHIKE!"  she screamed trying to wake him up. He'd 
obviously passed out while waiting for her to come back to 
him.

"Agent Scully?"

"Byers, is that you? Where's Frohike?"

Looking down at Frohike, slouched down in the chair, dead to 
the world, Byers answered, "Uh. I guess he's tired. He fell 
asleep."

"Right, fell asleep," Scully mocked.

"He passed out, Byers. You want to tell me why a drunken 
Frohike decided to call me?"

"To congratulate you, maybe?" Byers answered.

"To congratulate me? About what?" A dawning realization came 
to her.

"Hold that thought, Byers. I've got Mulder on the other 
phone."

Picking up her cell phone, Scully asked, "Mulder, where are 
you?"

Looking over the front seat at the driver, Mulder answered, 
"I'm in a cab, Scully. Me and, uh.. it's, Ray, right, Ray, 
the cab driver.. are in a cab."

Noticing how Mulder seemed quite pleased with his verbal 
accomplishments, Scully let him have it. 

"Mulder, have you been with the Lone Gunmen? And, would it be 
any stretch of the imagination to say, you've been getting 
sloshed?"

"Sloshed?" Mulder slurred.

"Yea, sloshed, as in pickled, inebriated, drunk, smashed, 
stoned, feeling no pain."

"Well, I'm not feeling any pain. You feeling any pain, Ray? 
No? O.k. Scully, Ray and me, we aren't feeling any pain."

"What did Langley tell the other stooges, Mulder? He narced 
about you kissing me, didn't he?"

"Uh.. Technically, yes.. but uh.. not until I let the cat 
out of the bag myself," Mulder admitted ruefully.

"DANA. DANA!" Scully heard her mother's voice shouting from 
the other phone. 

How could that be? She thought she'd left Byers on the line 
and her mother on hold.

Placing the cordless phone to her free ear while keeping her 
cell nestled to her other ear, she said, "Mom? I thought I'd 
left you on hold."

"You must have hit the transfer button when you put the 
phone down. Dana, what is this about Fox kissing you?"

"Oh, God, mom it's a really long story. Let's just say, I 
lost a bet. Can, the rest wait 'til tomorrow?"

"You kissed Mulder 'cause you lost a bet?" Scully's mom 
inquired, while Mulder was screaming in the other ear.

"Whoa, Scully, you didn't kiss me 'cause you lost a bet!" 
Mulder caught Ray's smirk in the rear view mirror. "Don't 
let your mom think that. I'm no one's booby prize."

"I'm giving the phone to Ray, Scully. You tell him. I ain't 
no booby prize."

"No, Mulder, don't give the phone.. Uh. Uh huh, Ray?'

"Ya, mon, it's Ray. This guy's snockered bad, lady . He 
keeps sayin'  "not someone's booby.." Over and over,"not 
someone's booby."

"I understand, Ray. Just give Mulder back the phone, o.k?"

"Sure, no problem, mon."

"And, Ray, I didn't kiss him 'cause I lost a bet."

"Gotcha' lady. Here's your man." Ray tossed the phone over 
the seat to Mulder. "Hey, mon, she as pretty as she sounds?"

"Yea, she's pretty. And, she's mine."

"I hear ya, brother. I hear ya."

"Dana?"

"Yes, mom." Smiling, Scully was brought back from 
eavesdropping on Mulder and Ray's conversation.

"You are going to explain this all, aren't you?"

"Just one more minute, mom. I need to get back to Byer's."

"Dana, I thought you were talking to Frohike?" Mrs. Scully said, 
confusion evident in her voice.

"I was, I think, uh.. I don't really know any more, but hold 
on and I'll get rid of whomever."

Clicking the transfer button once again, Scully said, 
"Byer's you still there?"

"Yea, Scully, I'm here."

"I'm going to hang up now, Byer's. Tell, Frohike, ..ah , 
hell, forget it. He probably won't remember this 
conversation anyway."

"Umm, Agent Scully?"

"Yes."

"Congratulations, on umm.. You know what I mean," Byers 
stammered.

"Thanks, John, I know."

As Byer's hung up, Scully took a deep breath, bracing 
herself for her mom's questions. As she transferred to her 
mom one last time, she thought, 'I feel like I'm in a Monty 
Python routine. Always look on the bright side of life...ta, 
da, ta, da..'

"Mom?"

"Yes, Dana."

"I've hung up the other line."

"Good, now maybe we can finish our talk."

BZZZZZZZZZZZ!!

"Uh, mom, it's the door."

"O.k., Dana, I can see this conversation is not going 
anywhere real quick. We'll talk tomorrow, honey. And, Dana?"

"Yes, mom."

"Bring, Fox. I think I'd like to talk to him, too."

"I'll ask him. Goodnight, mom."

"Goodnight, Dana."

Scully swore she could hear laughing from her mother's end 
as she hung up. I'm glad she thinks this is funny. Hopping 
into the boxers she'd been trying to put on for the last ten 
minutes, Scully grabbed her gun off the kitchen table. With 
her luck, she'd find old Smokey on the other side of the 
door, ready to offer up his 'congratulations'.

Peering through the peephole, she saw a very loopy Mulder, 
with a most disgruntled face.

Opening the door, she stepped aside so he could enter.

"I ain't no booby prize, Scully," he said, sliding down the 
wall joining Frohike in the land of Nod.

Placing a gentle kiss against his lips, Scully answered. 
"No, Mulder you're definitely not the booby prize." 


---------------------------------

TITLE: A Moose and Squirrel Christmas: Epilogue 3
AUTHOR: Dlynn
RATING: PG
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere, but I would appreciate 
being notified so that I would know where it is. Please, 
keep my name and all headers attached.
FEEDBACK: dlynn1550@my-deja.com  
CATEGORY: Vignette, humor, 
SUMMARY: This is a continuation of A Moose and Squirrel 
Christmas, and A Moose and Squirrel Christmas: Epilogues 1 & 
2.
SPOILERS: You just need to have read the other three Moose 
and Squirrel Christmas stories. They are currently at 
ephemeral. Eventually they'll be at gossamer. Millennium 
isn't a part of this universe, for obvious reasons. And, 
for those that have asked, "no, I don't have my own site."
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I guess you would say that Moose and 
Squirrel are the proud parents of epilogues. Several of you 
are responsible for me being behind with Christmas 
preparations, geeesh! I'm writing as fast as I can.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Mulder, Scully, the Lone Gunmen or 
Mrs. Scully. Everything x belongs to Fox, Chris Carter and 
1013 productions. The lyrics for "I Believe in Father Christmas" 
are from Emerson, Lake and Palmer's Works Vol. II.


A Moose and Squirrel Christmas: 3rd epilogue

Strains of Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" floated through 
the living room. His was not the voice of angels, but there 
was something about that song. Christmas just wouldn't be 
Christmas, without Bing.

Listening to  "White Christmas" reminded her of her 
grandfather. He had been in the Battle of the Bulge during 
World War II. Because of his knowledge of German and French, 
he was an army radio operator and translator.

She could remember the gentle ribbing every holiday between 
she and her granddad. She would pray for the first holiday 
snow, delighting in a world blanketed in white. Whereas, 
he would tell her how "White Christmas" reminded him of 
being "fanny deep" in the freezing cold of winter during 
one of the war's bloodiest battles. With a hug and a kiss, 
year after year, they'd agree to disagree.

Scully was wrapped in the warmth of terry cloth.  She had 
dug through her closet, finding the well-worn robe shoved 
way back in a corner. Since her other one was still AWOL, 
this one would have to do. 

She was seated on her living room couch, her feet tucked 
beneath her, and an afghan thrown over her legs. She held a 
steaming mug of tea in her hands, cradling it gently to her 
lips. Bing was still crooning, the fire was blazing, and the 
tree lights were twinkling. There was a gentle snow falling 
right outside her window. Nothing drastic. No blizzard. Just 
the slow, aching drop of perfect flakes.

The lights were off, save the one small one over her kitchen 
stove. Shadows danced with the small tendrils of flickering 
firelight. The twinkling tree lights gave a fairy like 
quality to the darkened room. There was a hush over the 
world, the quiet slumber existing in the morning's wee 
hours. Not a sound, besides Bing, disturbed her 
contemplation.

Until now.

"Oh, God, I've died and gone to Bedford Falls," came 
Mulder's croaking voice.

"No, Mulder, I don't think you could say this is your 
"Wonderful Life".

"Nope, Scully. In my life's version of the movie, I don't 
find myself waking up on your hardwood floors. Something a 
little softer comes to mind."

"Hey, I tried to move you. You're the one who refused to 
budge, saying, 'sol right, just wanna sleep...", she slurred, 
imitating his inebriated condition.

Pushing aside the covers tangled around him, Mulder said, "I 
appreciate the blanket and pillow. Nice touch. Leave the 
drunk on the floor but at least layer him in goose feathers 
and down."

Placing her mug on the end table, Scully got up, moving over 
to where Mulder lay in her entryway. She grasped both his 
hands, helping him pull himself up from his prone position. 
He leaned back, his head against her door, a moment of deja 
vu upon him. He tried shaking his head to clear it, but 
discovered that was an unbelievably stupid idea.

Grasping his head with both hands, Mulder shakily asked, 
"Would, you, please turn that music down. I don't need any 
more sleigh bells jingling in my head."

Flipping the stereo switch, Scully asked, "Better?"

"I'm not sure. You wouldn't by any chance be hearing "Joy to 
the World" would you?"

"'The Three Dog Night' version?" she inquired.

"No, the 'Hark', it's Harold and his angels' version," 
Mulder whined, doing his best to come to a standing 
position.

"Nope, not hearing a thing," she said, grasping his forearm, 
forestalling him from swaying into the tree.

"That's what I figured."

"Mulder, you're looking a particularly nasty shade of green 
at this moment."

"That's good, Scully, because I'm feeling pretty putrid. In 
fact,..." 

Mulder lurched from her grasp, charging down her hallway as 
quickly as his swaying legs would allow. Heading into the 
bathroom, he heard her scream.

"Mulder, you'd better make it. I'm telling you right now. I 
don't do throw-up!"


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


Moments later, Scully pushed open the bathroom door several 
inches. She extended her arm, only the distance needed for 
Mulder to grab the new toothbrush box from her hand. She, 
then, heard sounds of running tap water and frantic 
teeth brushing.

"You, o.k. in there, Mulder?" she inquired solicitously, 
wanting to give him a modicum of privacy.

"I've made my donation to the porcelain god, if that's what 
you're asking," came his voice, muffled with toothpaste. 
"And, before you ask, donations were delivered directly into 
his waiting maw. No side trips along the way."

Mulder turned off the water, fully opening the bathroom 
door. Permission was granted. She could enter. 

He stood in front of the mirror, examining his red eyes and 
the puffy shadows beneath them. He gestured to the 
disheveled man reflected in the glass. Here was a man, whose 
rumpled suit and five o'clock shadow made him look like Red 
Skelton's version of "the pour soul". Mulder grimaced.

"Scully, you kissed that?" he asked incredulously.

"Yea, hard to believe, isn't it?" she said, slapping a clean 
towel down on the vanity. Turning her back on him, she left 
the room.

Washing his face and running his wet fingers through his 
spiky hair, Mulder sneered at his reflection.

"I wouldn't kiss you either. You are such a sorry son of 
a..."

The rest of his words were lost as Mulder, once again, 
staggered into the drunkard's cathedral. Going through a 
repeat clean-up, he remembered at least one thing very 
clearly. This is why he rarely drank. He didn't need this 
kind of help in making a bigger ass out of himself than 
normal. 

After throwing his dirty towel on top of Scully's hamper, 
Mulder turned off the bathroom light. Walking back towards 
her living room, he heard the faint strains of Emerson, Lake 
and Palmer. What was that? Oh, yea, "I believe in Father 
Christmas." Scully was definitely eclectic with her holiday 
selections. Not exactly "Joyful, joyful".


"I wish you a hopeful Christmas.
I wish you a brave New Year.
All anguish, pain and sadness,
Leave your heart and let your road be clear."  


"Feeling better?"

"Better is a relative term, Scully. I'm feeling 'rode hard 
and put away wet," Mulder replied, reaching into her kitchen 
cabinet for a large tumbler.

Turning on the tap, Mulder asked, "Got any aspirin?"

"One cabinet over. Fill that glass to the top, Mulder. You 
need every ounce of water. Your body's dehydrated."

Quite aware that aspirin, sleep and lots of water were the 
only true remedies for a hangover, Scully felt Mulder needed 
more penance than that. He and the Lone Gunmen had gotten 
her into a fix with her mother. Mulder deserved PAIN.

So, she stood at her kitchen counter, with a selection of 
booze at the ready. 

"Uh, Scully. I think I've had enough for this evening."

"No kidding, Mulder. I want you to pick out what your 
particular poison for the evening has been and I'm going to 
make you a hangover remedy."

"I thought I just needed to drink lots of water?" Mulder 
inquired, eyeing the variety of alcoholic options.

"That's true, you do need to re-hydrate. However, a little 
home remedy couldn't hurt," Scully said, with her eyes 
daring him to back down.

Mulder grabbed a bottle off the counter.

"Bourbon, Mulder?"

"Well, we started with beer, but quickly ran out. Frohike 
had the bourbon stashed for a special occasion."

"This was a special occasion?" Scully asked, pouring a shot 
glass full of bourbon.

"I thought so," he said, trying to meet her eyes. But, 
Scully would have none of that. She poured a large glass of 
orange juice, added a couple of raw eggs and a large dollop 
of tobasco. She then added the shot of bourbon.

With a final flourish, she stirred the mixture together.

"Hair of the dog, Scully?"

"Dr. Scully's cure-all for what ails you. Guaranteed to 
diminish that hang over you're already beginning to feel."

Looking at the finished product, sitting on her counter, 
Mulder tried not to think about the raw eggs and bourbon.

"Who does your testimonials, Dr. Scully? You're clientele 
are not noted for stimulating conversation."

Handing him the drink, Scully said, "I don't know about 
that, Mulder. This stuff's been known to raise the dead."

Taking a sniff, Mulder's face grimaced with dissatisfaction.

"Can't I just take an Alka Seltzer? You know, "plop, plop, 
fizz, fizz". It's always worked before."

"It'll put hair on your chest," she cajoled, noting his less 
than enthusiastic response to her ministrations. 

"Hell, Scully, that'll put hair on my tongue!"

"I promise not to complain if it does," she said, moving 
down her hallway to her bedroom.

Contemplating the tongue comment and hearing her chorus of 
'wuss, wuss', Mulder forced the noxious liquid down his 
throat. He feared Scully's cure would probably inflict a 
slow, painful death. He may have been sloshed, but he knew 
her game. This was no home remedy. This was an act of 
retribution and he couldn't really fault her. 

Scully returned to the living room with arms full of bed 
linens. Noting his curious look, she shoved him toward the 
couch. 

"One kiss, does not a bed partner make," she explained. 
"Besides, I think the only intimacy in your immediate future 
will include bathroom plumbing."

"Yea, just call me "Roto Rooter", Mulder said taking the 
bedding from her and settling it on the couch. 

Catching the sleeve of her robe, he pulled Scully gently 
into an embrace. Wrapped tightly around her, he marveled at 
how well she fit up against him. He fought protective urges 
that always entered his mind when he was this close. She was 
so small. Their size disparity was never more obvious to him 
than when she was enclosed in his arms. 

But, there was strength in her. It proclaimed loudly, "I may 
be small but don't be mislead".  And, the vigor of her will 
was a gravitational force, a compulsion not to be ignored. 
The complexities of Scully could fill a book. 

His mind may have been focused on her formidable spirit but 
the rapid beat of his heart detailed his response to her 
beauty. Too bad he was in the doghouse and the reality of 
his upright position was more attributed to her balance than 
his own sense of coordination.  

"You owe me, Mulder," she mumbled into his shirt.

"I know. My behavior sucks."

"Yes," pulling away long enough to grab a receipt off her 
end table, "It does. But, separate from that, you owe me 
exactly $50.00." 

"What?" he responded, grabbing the receipt from her hand.

"Mulder, you, and your new best 'bud', Ray, went 
gallivanting all over D.C., to the tune of $37.50."

Mulder rubbed his eyes, noting two Scullys present in his 
field of vision. And in his current state, that was just one 
Scully too many. 

"Ray?"

"The Jamaican cab driver," she said, handing him another 
glass of water.

"Ah, Ray." Mulder said, flopping on the couch as his legs 
finally gave up the ghost. There was a vague recollection 
trying to force itself to the surface of his muddled brain.

Placing the empty water glass on the coffee table, Mulder 
blustered. "Wait a minute, Scully, you said I owed you 
$50.00. Now I may not, currently, be the sharpest knife in 
the drawer but that's a difference of. uh.. hell, that's a 
big difference."

Watching his valiant attempt at higher cognitive function 
and resounding failure at basic math, Scully took pity.

"Mulder, that's Ray's tip. I figure, after putting up with 
your crap, the man deserved additional monetary 
compensation."

"Geesh, Scully, that's a 33% tip. He didn't give me a 
kidney, only a ride home."

Noting her surprise, that his brain appeared to be 
calculating again, he said, "Don't get your hopes up. It 
comes and goes. And, oh God, I think it's going again."

Taking a few difficult breaths and sliding down deeper into 
the cushions, Mulder successfully fought the rising 
dizziness. He could do it. All he had to do was close his 
eyes  to stop the room from spinning.

"Well you were hardly in any shape to determine high 
finances and Ray did manage to drag your sorry butt in 
here."

"He did?"

"Yea, I thought you'd arrived by yourself, barely making it 
in time to pass out in my entryway. But, then Ray came 
knocking at my door. You told him I'd cover the bill."

"Forgot. I used it all at the mall," Mulder slurred, his 
voice beginning to give out.

"Thankfully, I had some I'd put aside for buying gifts," 
Scully said, loosening his tie and tossing it on the chair 
with his suit jacket. She then pulled off his socks and 
shoes, laying them at the end of the couch. She grabbed a 
small card off the end table and handed it to him.
 
"What's this?" he inquired.

"Ray's card.  Apparently, somewhere between your rendition 
of Montego Bay and Day'O, you offered to get him an 
interview with the bureau."

Full cognizance returning, Mulder sang softly. "Daylight, 
come and me wanna go home."

"Yep, that's the one," she said, unbuttoning his shirt at 
the cuffs. Slapping his hands away as he awkwardly tried to 
help, Scully finished off the shirt in short order, adding 
it to the pile on the chair.

"I'm so tired, Scully."

"I know but give up the pants first before you go to sleep."

"Agent Scully!" Mulder admonished while divesting himself of 
his trousers.

Laying his crumpled suit pants with the other articles of 
clothing, Scully pushed him gently back onto the couch. 

With a gentle kiss to his forehead,  Scully murmured, 
"Daylight come and you're gonna talk to mom.."

"Mom?" Mulder thought drifting off to sleep. "I don't wanna 
talk to mom. I wanna kiss Scully."

Succumbing to the heavy darkness, Mulder's mind drifted.

It all began with..

. a mall.

..a bet.

Santa. Frohike?.

. a song..
 
.The  Kiss!

Groaning, he thought, too bad it was going to end with her 
mother.

---------------------------------------

TITLE: A Moose and Squirrel Christmas: Finale
AUTHOR: Dlynn
RATING: PG
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Gossamer, spooky's. All other's, 
please notify me. I would appreciate knowing where it is. 
Please, keep my name and all headers attached.
FEEDBACK: dlynn1550@my-deja.com  
CATEGORY: Vignette, humor 
SUMMARY: This is the finale to A Moose and Squirrel 
Christmas.
SPOILERS: You just need to have read the other 4 Moose and 
Squirrel Christmas stories. 
In order they are: A Moose and Squirrel Christmas, A Moose 
and Squirrel Christmas: epilogue 1, A Moose and Squirrel 
Christmas: 2nd epilogue and A Moose and Squirrel Christmas: 
3rd epilogue. They are all currently at ephemeral. Millennium 
isn't a part of this universe, for obvious reasons. 

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This started as a short, holiday vignette. 
Thanks so much to those who asked for a continuation. I had 
fun writing a series. Also, after the holidays, my husband 
is making a web page for my stories. I'll post the URL when 
it's done.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Mulder, Scully, the Lone Gunmen or 
Mrs. Scully. Everything x belongs to Fox, Chris Carter and 
1013 productions.


He looked quite presentable. Maybe not "GQ fine", but at 
least not "something dismal the cat drug in", either. The 
"pour soul" he'd seen in Scully's bathroom mirror the night 
before, had been replaced by "the man", someone who had it 
all together.

His pupils were clear, there were no lingering bags or dark 
shadows beneath his eyes. He was quaffed, freshly scrubbed, 
teeth brushed, bright as a new shiny penny. 

STYLIN' 

Too bad he felt like crap!

He might as well have spent the night bathing a cat with his 
tongue. Tiny fur balls littered every nook and cranny in his 
mouth. His breath should be quarantined -extreme biohazard.

Good news, he no longer heard "Jingle Bells" or "Joy to the 
World" reverberate in his skull. Bad news, the construction 
crew, replacing the choir, delivered even more mind numbing 
symphonies. Regrettably, the new crew's ability to keep tempo 
rivaled Scully's capacity for singing on key.

"Deck the Halls" took on a whole new meaning when the tympani 
section included jackhammers and blowtorches.

And, his stomach,. he didn't even want to go there.. The 
coffee he'd forced down earlier was staging a coup with his 
physiology. The caffeine might be dancing merrily through his 
system singing, "It's time to get up...it's time to get up... 
time to get up in the moooorning!"

But, the actual coffee itself battled, hand to hand, in 
combat with his intestines. He feared his colon would win the 
war. 

Thus it had been ever since he'd woken this morning, 
stretched out in a rumpled heap on Scully's couch. He may 
have gone to bed with "Silent Night" whispering sweet 
lullabies, but he woke up with "The Hallelujah Chorus" 
screaming in his ear.

Before she'd gone to Mass, Scully had set an alarm, placing 
it on the coffee table right next to his head. Smacking the 
impertinent "rooster" clean off the table into the kitchen, 
Mulder mentally made note to buy her a new alarm clock for 
Christmas. The momentary satisfaction he garnered hearing the 
offending clock smash into the refrigerator, didn't make up 
for the time he had to spend on hands and knees picking up 
tiny glass and plastic pieces.

Her warm, welcoming, morning message sat on the kitchen 
counter. She'd left the aspirin bottle, a ready-made carafe 
full of hot coffee and his marching orders for the day.

"Dear Mulder,

I hope you slept well. Now get your tail in gear! I 'll be at 
your place no later than 11:30a.m. to pick you up. Dress 
nice, mom's invited you to Carol's holiday open house. You'll 
get a chance to meet my godson.

Since you got me into this mess with mom, you can suffer the 
third degree right along with me.

Scully

P.S. Don't even think about weaseling out of this."
 

Over the grumble of his stomach, he heard steps in the 
hallway outside the bathroom door.
Scully must have let herself into his apartment during his 
last swish and spit.

"I've seen worse," she said poking her head through the open 
doorway. 

"I know, but they've all had Y-incisions," Mulder replied, 
spitting out his second, or was it third, round of mouthwash. 
Shoot, he might as well drink the whole bottle. Kissably 
fresh, right.

"True, but they weren't dressed in J. Crew."

"You like?" 

"I like," Scully said, bestowing a soft, lingering kiss to 
his minty fresh lips. 

O.K. maybe he was kissably fresh, he thought, wrapping his 
arms around her waist.

Nuzzling her hair, Mulder said, "So you wanna stay and play?"

Looking into his deceptively innocent eyes, Scully replied, 
"Don't look for me in your Christmas stocking. I think you're 
on Santa's 'naughty' list."

"Oh, but Scully," Mulder said, running his lips down her neck 
to the open collar of her blouse, "I do 'naughty', so nice."

Playfully slapping his lips away, Scully drew him out into 
the living room.
Seriously, considering the shape he'd been in the night 
before, he was an impressive specimen. Maybe there was 
something to that old family "Hair of the dog" recipe after 
all.

Looking around his living room, Mulder asked, "Did you leave 
your mother in the car? That seems pretty tacky, Scully."

"I called mom from the church this morning and told her I'd 
be running late. She decided to drive on ahead. It's not as 
far for her. Anyway, I felt you and I needed a little time to 
get "our ducks in a row".

"You mean concoct a plausible story?" he said, snapping on 
his holster and grabbing his keys from the table.

"We don't need to concoct anything. Nothing's happened that 
requires obfuscation. Last night was just a comedy of errors, 
an evening unparalleled in insanity."

Giving her a puzzled look, Mulder ruminated on what she had 
just said. Did she mean everything that happened last night 
defied logic?
 
Everything?
 
Wait a minute. She did kiss him when she arrived this 
morning. Looking into her laughing eyes, he realized he was 
allowing his insecurities to dissect Scully's every word, 
every gesture, every nuance.
 
This was ridiculous. 

Yesterday's kiss may have been born in spontaneity, but he 
had no doubt of her feelings. Deep abiding love stood just a 
breath away.

Leaning in and brushing her lips across his, Scully murmured, 
"Gotcha.."

Grabbing his leather jacket off the back of his chair, she 
tossed it to him. She, then, walked into his kitchen, pouring 
a large glass of water from the jug he kept in his fridge. 
Handing it to him, he scowled, draining what he was sure had 
to be his second gallon of water since last night.

Following her through the door into his hallway, Mulder said, 
"Geesh, Scully, any more liquid and my eyeballs are going to 
float. I hope you're prepared to stop if I need to use the 
little boy's room."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


"Dana, I'm so glad you could make it."

Sweeping Scully into a warm embrace, Carol tugged her inside 
the foyer.  Including Mulder in her effervescent welcome, 
Carol grabbed him around the middle, for all practical 
purposes squeezing the "stuffing out of him". 

Where Scully was petite, Carol was tall, just a few inches 
short of his own 6'1'' height. Scully and Carol, auburn and 
brunette, quiet and boisterous, both obviously enamored with 
the other.

He watched them talk at the same time, stepping over each 
other's words. Each interrupting, finishing the other's 
sentences, jumping from one topic to the next. 

...you've been?"

"It's been hard on Brian...more introverted than ever."

"I know...time."

"Sometimes, it's so hard..."

It was ease born of familiarity, a comeraderie that came with 
time and shared experience. These women were obviously close-
friends of the heart.

"And you must be Fox. Maggie's told me so much about you." 
Carol said, realizing she had excluded him from their 
conversation. It was just so good to see Dana. Life's 
circumstances lately had kept them apart. She hadn't seen 
Dana, since her own husband's funeral, several months ago. 
Talking on the phone was good. Up close and personal was 
better.

"Where is mom?" Dana asked, peering past the louvered doors 
into the kitchen. She knew that's where she'd be, helping to 
make sure everything went smoothly for Carol. The Scully's 
and the Frank's had been connected for years. She and Carol 
had practically grown up together as their fathers' posted 
the same assignments. In fact, Bill used to complain he had 
three sisters instead of two. 

Until the year he noticed Carol had developed much more than 
a sparkling personality. No longer was she a nuisance 
tagalong, like his kid sister, but fuel for a young man's 
fantasies. He'd even gone so far as to ask her out once, but 
she had sliced him down by snottily informing him, "Bill, 
that would be like dating my brother. " Oh, they'd laughed 
over that.

Scully knew. Maggie would be close. 

"Dana."

Scully turned to see her mother coming up beside Mulder. 
Maggie Scully gave him a tender kiss on the cheek. Returning 
her affection, Mulder said," Mrs. Scully. It's good to see 
you again."

"Fox, after all we've been through. Don't you think you could 
call me Maggie?"

"Maggie," he acknowledged, noticing Scully's wicked grin 
behind her mother's head.

"Dana. How about you and I go take a look at the tree," 
Maggie Scully said, linking arms with her daughter. "I'm 
sure, Carol, will take good care of Mulder."

Mulder noticed how quickly Scully's grin turned inward. She 
was no longer smirking as her mother pulled her into the 
living room. In fact, Mulder thought he saw Scully wearing 
"his panic face". Carol, on the other hand was not going to 
let him off the hook either.

Tucking her arm in his, pulling him to the dining room 
holiday buffet, Carol said, "So, Fox,... may I call you Fox.."

"Uh... Mulder, I really prefer..."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
x

With a heaping plate, steeped in holiday favorites, Mulder 
found a seat over by the fireplace hearth. The heat, 
emanating from the roaring fire, made him feel a little bit 
like a bag of roasted chestnuts. However, he sweated through 
the misery because this location afforded several positives. 
What was it they said, "Everything is location, location, 
location."

First of all, he was partially hidden by the tree. He had 
visual of the room, but for the most part he was obscured. 
Secondly, if worse came to worse, he could hide his plate of 
Christmas goodies. He'd already scoped out a spot, between 
the large green package and the one decked in garish, gold 
foil. A temporary cease-fire had been declared between he and 
his stomach. But, like all truces, there usually was one 
remaining battle. He wanted to be prepared.

Picking at the food Carol had gleefully piled high on his 
plate, Mulder was momentarily distracted. That was all it 
took. Feeling her presence, Mulder smiled.

"Mrs. Scu.Maggie," he finished, noting her admonishing grin.

"Fox."

Mulder chuckled. Maggie was one of the few people who refused 
to call him Mulder. She seemed to take great delight every 
time she said, "Fox".

"Uh, Maggie, I apologize for my disgraceful behavior last 
night. I was."

"...feeling no pain," she finished, patting his arm gently. 
"Although, from the looks of things, you're not out of the 
woods yet."

"Well, the jackhammer's gone on break, but it's been replaced 
with a repeating staple gun. My diminished capacity excuse, 
is, however... diminishing."

"I'll live, right?" he said, looking hopefully into her eyes. 
They both knew he was not talking about recovery from this 
hangover. 

Hearing laughter from across the room, Mulder and Mrs. Scully 
spotted Dana and Carol, engaged in lively conversation with 
another group of guests. Scully was beautiful. Animatedly 
giggling and carrying on, she looked happy. 

"Fox, you do this for her," Maggie said noting his 
fascination with Scully's vitality.

Seeing his hesitation, she continued, "You can't live on 
"what ifs", Fox. The reality is that you and Dana are 
involved with things I can't even begin to comprehend. But, I 
do believe God places the right people, in the right places, 
at the right time. You and Dana
have a destiny."

"Maggie, there's been such pain. Scully's gone through so 
much."

"And from what I understand, she'll likely go through more."

Noting the intensity of his gaze upon her, Maggie continued, 
"Mulder, I'm not naive. What you two do, scares the hell out 
of me. And, from the small amounts I've gleamed from Dana, I 
realize your relationship will never be the stuff of mother-
in-law's fantasies. But, Fox, look at her."

Mulder turned to see Scully staring at the two of them. She 
had a wistful, smile on her face.  The deafening conversation 
was still going on around her, but her focus was totally 
narrowed on him. 

"Why must you two be so alone when it's obvious to the world 
around you that no two people ever fit so well together?" 
Maggie said, leaning in and placing another gentle kiss upon 
his cheek. "Conspiracies be damned, Mulder..." 

"Fox. call me Fox," Mulder said placing an endearing kiss 
upon Maggie's lips.

"Making time with my mother?" Scully asked, sitting down on 
the carpet in front of him.

"It's hard to turn down the Scully charm," Mulder said, 
affectionately pulling Scully up on to his lap. 

"I don't see a beard or red coat, Santa."

"I belong to a more enlightened Santa organization. One made 
up only of psychologists. We feel the whole "costume thing" 
can be terribly intimidating to some."

"I'm not intimidated, Mulder," Scully said, tightening her 
arms around his neck.

"Oh, but I am, Scully. I've seen the indomitable spirit of 
the Scully women.

Music began. A group had gathered, across the room, around 
the Baby Grand. Robert, the man Carol was dating, was banging 
out "Jingle Bell Rock". The revelers were in fine voice and 
spirit.

"Come on you three. Come join us," Carol said, sliding her 
arm over Maggie's shoulders.

Looking back to where Mulder and Scully were still wrapped in 
their own little world of gentle touches and soothing words, 
Carol coaxed, "Mulder, I hear you do a mean "Blue Christmas". 
You're next up."

Grabbing Scully's bottom lip in a playful nip, Mulder stood. 

"You're gonna pay, Scully. You're gonna pay."

THE END, FINI, *30*


Author's notes: Merry Christmas to everyone who made it 
through to the end. I appreciate all the wonderful e-mails 
I've been receiving. You've definitely made my holiday 
brighter.
dlynn