From: "C. Charlotte" Date: 28 Nov 2000 23:11:33 GMT Subject: *NEW* Silent Night (1/?) Silent Night By C. Charlotte Mulder6758@aol.com Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully and all other regularly appearing characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and FOX. I'm just borrowing them to weave my twisted little web. Distribution: Anywhere, everywhere and Gossamer. Just keep my name and email address attached and drop me a line so I know where to visit. Rating: PG-PG13 Keywords: Christmas story, slight MSR (UST) Spoilers: none Summary: Scully is involved in a Christmas car accident. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Office of Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully Hoover Building Washington D.C. December 18, 2000 Dana Scully watched one particularly large snowflake trace its way to the ground. Between trees, around a bush, and finally settling onto one of the benches beside the Hoover Building. From her corner in the subterranean office, she stared up at the snowstorm as it gathered force and speed. The computer screen cast an eerie glow over her features, highlighting cheekbones and the curve of her nose in a translucent, yellow light. D.C. hadn't had a snowstorm this intense in at least ten years. She couldn't remember ever experiencing one with this type of ferocity while she was growing up in Maryland. She sighed and pressed her reading glasses back up against her nose, wondering idly why she was here. Mulder had called an hour or two earlier, sounding apologetic and angry that he couldn't make it to work. "Sorry, Scully. The roads are blocked and I've got no way out. I don't even know where to start looking for my car in this mess...." She glanced at her watch as a plan began to formulate in her mind. If she left once she had finished this expense report, she'd be home by noon at the very latest...time enough to watch some television and eat some food other than the imitation nutrition that the cafeteria passed off. With a smile turning up the corners of her mouth, she focused all her energies back on the current expense item that she was trying to explain off. **Think.** she ordered herself, **How do you explain losing both your car and cell phones after your partner accidentally drives into a force field?** "Don't bother." she murmured with a mischievous grin, as she flipped the computer monitor off and grabbed her coat. She wrapped it tightly around her body before sojourning into the tumultuous weather, although her preparations were scattered as the icy wind dislodged her coat from her body regardless. She grabbed the material with both hands and pulled it back against her as she hurried to her car, mentally cursing herself for parking so far away from the doors. She continued to battle against the elements once she had gotten herself into the driver's seat with the door firmly shut. The leather had the ambient temperature of Antarctica. She fumbled with the heater and pushed the dial up as far as it would go. The car idled for a few moments while the interior warmed. Scully spent that time imagining hot chocolate and the book she had left on her bed this morning. If she added a fire in the fireplace, she nearly forgot the piercing cold currently settling around her in a thick blanket. Shifting the car into `drive', she pulled out of the FBI parking complex and onto the ramp for the Beltway. The roads were slick and iced over in more places than not, and Scully repeatedly fought for control over the car. The snow blurring the side mirrors and windshield didn't exactly help her out any. Squinting, Scully leaned forward and brushed the palm of her hand against the windshield, scowling when her breath clouded the clean bit of glass she had just procured. She decreased her speed, just to be on the safe side. The patches of ice were becoming larger and more commonplace, and the snow continued to rain down in undulating sheets of pearly white. "Damn." she whispered, leaning forward to peer through the thin Plexiglas at what appeared to be streaks of light, or an effect of the glittering snow. She decided at the last possible moment that the snow wasn't to blame, and rather, she was staring at two cars nose to nose. She pulled on the steering wheel hard, yanking the car to the left and overcompensating, swung back to the right. A scream of rending metal permeated through her brain and Scully threw her hands up in front of her face as the two cars rushed up to her own. Her last conscious thought was snuffed out as the blackness rose up to meet her. Unknown Location December 18, 2000 A white haze. Snow. Something about snow and ice, something utterly lost to her mind. She remembered light and white, and that was all. She forced her eyes to open and tried to blink through the fuzz in the back of her corneas. More white. **Must be some type of theme going on.** she thought wryly to herself. It took several more minutes for her vision to clear, though what she saw seemed to be far from any of the reaches of reality. She was no longer in her car, hell-it seemed she was no longer in D.C. She wasn't sure what bothered her more. The fact that everything was shimmering slightly, as though being put on hold, or the fact that the person in front of her was slightly translucent. The figure glided forward, robes rustling as whoever it was eased to a stop beside her. A slim hand, encased in a glove the color of snow, appeared from beneath the robes to help Scully to her feet. She scrambled up quickly, shying away from the mysterious person. It was then that she suddenly noticed that she was in the middle of a snowstorm similar to the one she had just left. Only she didn't have a single flake of snow on her. It seemed to be falling *around* her, leaving a circular patch of grassy ground about five feet in diameter. The robed individual beside her also seemed to share the same phenomenon. The dark, maroon robes pushed the snow back as the person, or thing, wearing them moved around. Scully inched away again and finally the person inside the winter robes seemed to get the point. The hood was pushed back, revealing a young, pretty woman with silvery-gold hair that curled halfway down her back. Her eyes were large and rimmed with thick lashes, a dark liquid brown that sparkled merrily. Scully hazarded a step forward, taking a few more when she realized that the girl was no immediate threat to her. She looked around her, cataloguing the fact that the snow had yet to touch her. She didn't have to worry about this phantom person when snow couldn't touch her. It was scientifically impossible, and therefore brought on by a dream. The girl grasped her hand, smiling comfortingly as Scully jumped at the sudden contact. Her eyes widened as a thread of light moved between their arms, and the girl continued to smile her eerily cool smile. A flash of light later, and they were in an entirely new setting. The snow had dissipated, walls appeared around them, forming themselves into the shape of a modest home. Coffee simmered on the stove, bubbling and popping with a life of its own, and the unmistakable aroma of sugar cookies wafted through the air. The girl had shed her robes, draping them over the back of a chair. She turned to face Scully, motioning with her hand for her to sit down. She did so, staring at the dress that the younger woman wore. Periwinkle blue, and interwoven with delicate laces of silver and bronze. It fit her waist, flowed past her feet, and settled with a soft rustle to the floor. The dress, like the person, was nearly see-through. It was like looking through a particularly thick mirage. Light danced around the edges of the girl, playing soft licks of orange and yellow across her skin and the blue dress. She looked like something out a myth when you combined the fairy tale dress with the silvery-gold hair that currently fell loose, curling around her shoulders and down to her back. Words seemed to be stuck in her throat, so Scully just stared for a few minutes. She processed their location, processed the young woman, and processed the fact that she didn't have a damn clue what was going on. Emergency Room Georgetown Memorial Hospital Washington D.C. December 18, 2000 "I'm looking for my partner." Fox Mulder nervously shifted in front of the Admit desk. He hated hospitals. It seemed like every time he crossed over the threshold of one that everyone was out to get him. Needles flew out from hidden pockets and rubber gloves got snapped on in preparation for other, less enjoyable, procedures. He'd much rather just avoid them all together. And he would have, if it wasn't for the fact that he had received a call from Georgetown Memorial informing him that Scully had been in a car accident. "What's her name?" a short, plump nurse asked from behind the desk as she balanced a stack of charts in one hand and Christmas decorations in the other. Singing Christmas trees dangled from her ears and she had a cheap, colorful necklace of Christmas tree light bulbs hung round her neck. Mulder had to stop from saying anything overly cruel. The cheerful jewelry seemed so *crude* when he had no idea how seriously injured his partner was. "Dana Scully." he mumbled, playing with a string of tinsel that lined the desk. The color flaked off, leaving red and green streaks across his hand and fingers. "She was in a car accident. About 5'2, red hair, FBI agent." She flipped through her charts rapidly, humming along to a Christmas tune that Mulder didn't care to place a name to. He was more worried about other issues than playing `Name That Christmas Song'. "She was in an MVA?" "Excuse me?" "She was involved in a car accident?" "Yes." Mulder nodded, hating the words even as the nurse spoke them. Car accident. God, that could mean anything from a scratch to fatal internal injuries. "She's been taken to surgery." Mulder's heart jumped into his throat at the nurse's words and he visibly fought to hold back the emotions that were simmering just below the surface. "Can I wait somewhere for her?" "Sure." the nurse nodded, coming around the desk and placing a firm hand on his arm. "I'll take you to her room." She steered him toward the elevator, hitting the button for the tenth floor. "You can wait there." Unknown Location December 18, 2000 "So you're telling me that you're some type of ghost?" Scully asked, narrowing her eyes at the young woman. "The ghost of Christmas past?" "Yep." she answered in a exuberant voice, sipping the coffee she had just made. Her company though, Scully, didn't seem to be interested in eating, and among other things, was having a hard time accepting what she was. She was a ghost. The ghost of Christmas Past to be exact. She sighed quickly, wondering why she couldn't have gotten this woman's partner instead. He would have had no problem believing in her... But he hadn't been the one in the accident and she had to settle for what she got. "Here, I'll make it simple for you. I'm a ghost, I'm dead. You were in a car accident, and now you're seeing me. It's Christmas time and I just happen to be the Ghost of Christmas Past." "No." Scully said, shaking her head stubbornly. "The Ghost of Christmas Past is a character out of `A Christmas Carol'. Not an actual, dead person who now floats around as a ghost." "Untrue," the young woman countered. "you think one man can be that creative? Of course not. Charles Dickens encountered us in much the same way you are. We weren't his *characters*. We were his *muse*." "So...so I'm not dead?" Scully asked timidly, leaning back in her chair. "You're not dead." the other woman said simply, sipping her coffee as she tapped her nails against the table. "Your body isn't physically here. This is in your mind, an extension of a dream if you will." "So I'm dreaming?" "No. You're not dreaming. You're just not physically present." The woman held back a laugh at the vexed look on Scully's face. She was trying so hard to make sense of the situation when, in all reality, she didn't need to. "Don't think about it so much. I am what I am. Even if that is a ghost." "But don't you usually appear when the person is depressed or-or *something?* That's what happened in the book." The Ghost of Christmas Past shrugged and adjusted the straps of her dress, blinking her eyes to free the hair that was currently clouding her vision. She brought a hand up and brushed the strands aside impatiently. "I wouldn't worry myself with the psychology behind the events. The fact remains that you're here and I've got things to show you." Room 1013 Georgetown Memorial Hospital Washington D.C. December 18, 2000 Mulder remained curled in the chair long after visiting hours had ended. He'd had several run-ins with nurses, though eventually they got the point and ceased to bother him. From his vantage point he could see the whole room as well as all the people that passed in the hall. Scully remained motionless, unconscious, and so to keep himself occupied he had taken to counting the number of medical personnel and visitors that passed by room 1013. If he didn't have something to do he would surely go insane. For the first few hours he had simply stared at his partner, memorizing her injuries, the bright white cast that housed her broken wrist and the bruise forming along her cheekbone and left eye. He fingered a strand of her hair absently, smoothing it down against the starched pillowcase. He worked a knot out with his fingers gently, knowing unconsciously that she wouldn't want to wake with her hair a mess. He watched another nurse walk by, flanked by two doctors in dirtied white coats. His eyes closed briefly, light flickering across the back of his eyelids in erratic patterns. He opened them again when he heard sound, hoping his partner had awakened. Instead he found a youngish nurse standing in the doorway, cradling a bundle of blankets in her arms. He could just barely see a small fist flailing and a tuft of gold-blond hair from beneath the layers of blanket. "I think you have the wrong room." he murmured softly, his hand inching back toward Scully's. "No." the nurse answered in a chipper voice. "I have the right room. The annoyed nurse at the front desk pointed me in your general direction. We've decided that if you're going to badger us constantly you can help out around the hospital." He blinked at her, not quite comprehending what she wanted him to do until she walked over and placed the squirming bundle in his arms. "Wait a minute." he stammered. "I don't know anything about children, let alone young babies." She fixed his arms without words, running a finger over the skin of the child he was holding. "We're not asking you to perform surgery. All we need is for you to hold the baby, talk to him, keep him company. Young children need companionship." "Isn't that what a mother's for?" She frowned at him, curling a piece of the silky blond hair around her finger absently. "His mom and dad were killed. Freak accident on the maternity ward. He hasn't got any close family and he's too young to be put into the adoption system. The hospital is holding onto him until he's a bit older." Mulder nodded, pushing the blankets aside gently to reveal a small, bright eyed child. Clear blue eyes stared back at him, and for a moment he imagined that this could be a child of Scully's one day. "So I just hold him?" She nodded, apparently happy with his acceptance of the task. "I'll show you how to feed him as well. And at the very least Mr. Mulder, you'll have someone to keep you company." END OF PART ONE (2/?) Unknown Location December 19, 2000 Scully stared through the pane of glass, her fingers clutching tightly against the frost lined windowsill. Presents lay wrapped beneath a large and exquisitely beautiful Blue Spruce tree. From her vantage point she could just make out the heads of two boys and a little girl, not one of them older than ten years. It was the perfect Christmas morning scene, complete with the two beaming parents lounging on the overstuffed couch as their children eagerly ripped apart the wrapping concealing long awaited gifts. The problem lay in the fact that she was nowhere to be found, and she should have been there. She knew this Christmas. This would be the year that she and Melissa received matching dresses and the boys would steal them as a practical joke. She forced her hands to loosen and turned around to face the Ghost. "Where am I?" she demanded. The other woman just stared back at her, a slight smile playing upon her lips. "You know where you are." "You're saying that this is my sister's and brothers' childhood, but that I don't exist." Scully's eyes flickered as she spoke her suspicions and she glanced through the window again, hoping that maybe her younger self had entered the room while she had been talking to the Ghost of Christmas Past. It was like a slap in the face, the way her family could be so happy when she didn't exist in their world. She forced herself to remember that in this dimension, she had never existed. They had never known her. They couldn't miss someone they had never met. Despite that, the ache still simmered beneath her skin and she gripped the windowsill again. "I've seen enough." she murmured through grit teeth. "I want to go home." The Ghost cast her eyes in Scully's direction, their color darkened significantly with sadness. "You are home." Room 1013 Georgetown Memorial Hospital Washington D.C. December 19, 2000 The baby was turning out to be a godsend. Mulder had been by Scully's bedside for nearly twenty four hours, holding her hand, talking, murmuring to her of the all the new things he was learning about children. She had yet to regain consciousness. He was incredibly thankful to whatever nurse had singled him out for baby-sitting duty. The baby's constant babbles, and occasional squalls of crying, kept him busy, his mind off of darker possibilities. The little guy was beginning to grow on him, and Mulder half suspected that the baby was glad for the attention. The way he cuddled up in his arms made him wonder if this child had ever been held before now. He sighed softly, shifting the bundle of blankets to his other arm while he glanced down at his partner. In a short amount of time, the bruise around her eye had darkened to almost black and Mulder could see the outlines of purple that marked a broken cheekbone. She looked so defeated and he instantly reached a hand out, cradling one of her own. "I'm here, Scully." he murmured, "Do your part of the deal and wake up for me." His voice broke and he quickly suppressed the tears in the back of his throat. "Please." The baby let out a soft cry, seemingly in response to Mulder's feelings, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek, choking back the tears that pushed steadily forward. `Stop it.' he willed himself and dropped his head in the direction of the whimpering infant in his arms. He wagged his finger in front of the little boy, who grabbed on nearly immediately, his cries dying. Mulder blinked the last of the tears back rapidly, a small smile appearing delicately on his lips. He'd never realized it before now, but little children fascinated and amazed him. He traced the thin line of a vein across the little boy's wrist and shifted the weight in his arms, snuggling the tiny bundle closer to his body. The trick was just to believe that everything would be fine. Unknown Location December 19, 2000 Scully stayed in the yard for an additional half hour, trying to process the images before her. She finally moved away when the cold began to seep into her. "It's time for your transfer." the girl murmured, in the floating voice that Scully was just beginning to get used to. She turned around, intent on asking the girl what she meant by her `transfer', only to find that the girl was gone. Her place was instead inhabited by a man, about middle age. His skin was a dark bronze, his lips cherry red, his eyes an almost disturbing, opalescent green. His hair was close cropped, sprinkled with flecks of grey and kept neatly in place. Her lips pursed as she took in her new companion's image, and the man smiled a robust smile, full of warmth that Scully didn't think could possibly exude from a ghost. But then again, she didn't think it was possible for ghosts to walk around in what looked suspiciously like an Armani suit and trenchcoat. He looked incredibly like an ad for the latest issue for GQ. "Let me guess....the Ghost Of Christmas Present?" "You're a smart one." he said with a smile, walking forward until he was perhaps a foot from her. She could feel his breath puffing lightly against her cheek, his hands ruffling against the fabric of his coat. Very unghostlike, she concluded. "I *am* the Ghost Of Christmas Present, though I prefer the name James. `Ghost' sounds so...final." At least he had personality. It was more than she could say for the wraith of Christmas Past. "Can we hurry this up? At some point I'd like to get back to real life." she muttered, more angrily than she really intended to be. She was just so tired of living through situations that were unimaginable to her. And she had a feeling it was only going to get worse... Room 1013 Georgetown Memorial Hospital Washington D.C. December 19, 2000 Naming him probably wasn't the best idea. But when it came time to leave, Mulder knew he'd have a hard time saying goodbye as it was. What more damage could it do to at least give the child a name? With a slight smile he lifted the bottle, positioning the rubber teat within easy reaching distance of Joseph's mouth. The name wasn't one he'd always liked. In fact, he didn't think that before now he really liked it at all. But it seemed like a good Catholic name, something from the Bible, something that Scully might have named a child had she been given the chance to ever have one. As he fed Joseph, he thought back to their first meeting, their first case, how naive they both had been. He doubted either of them could ever have imagined the way things would turn out nearly eight years later. Even in his wildest dreams he hadn't imagined the partnership he shared with the woman now silent in her hospital bed, the one friend who had remained true to him, still remained true. He patted the child on the back, waiting for the telltale gurgling sounds, as he completed his flashback through the history he had with Scully. He pulled Joseph away from his face, smiling slightly at the drooping eyes of the child. Nestling the baby against him, he patted the small, warm back and his own eyes slipped shut, struggling open once or twice more before finally giving in and sliding closed once again. Unknown Location December 19, 2000 And she thought being forgotten by her family was bad. Her newest exploration into the land of `living ghosts' had left her shaken down to the depths of her soul. She trembled in the slight wind, clutching tightly at the tree bark to her left as though it were her only life support. At the moment it was all she had. She couldn't trust herself right now, her perception was construed, and she certainly didn't trust the man beside her. He had shown her this. Normally she would have run to Mulder, but not now. Not when she was standing where she was, tearing slowly making their way past her lashes and onto her cheeks, sliding hotly down her skin to rest in the partition between neck and shoulder. How could she go to Mulder when she was standing in front of his grave? She choked back a small whimper, reaching a shaking hand forward to brush her fingers over the carefully formed letters. F O X W I L L I A M M U L D E R Born October 13. Died December 18, the day this whole damn mess began. What she needed to do was get home. If she could get back to where she belonged, nothing in her dreams would actually occur. Her family would know her and Mulder would be alive and healthy. Or at least healthy until his next run in with a supernatural monster... "I need to get home." she finally murmured in the steadiest voice she could muster. Home. A place with the FBI, where she could see Mulder, get lectured by Skinner and know that every woman in the secretarial pool hated her because of the closeness she had with her partner. "You can't go home until you finish up with me and one other one of my colleagues." "The Ghost of Christmas Future?" "That's how the game works. I can't bend the rules for you. It's a matter of waiting out the consequences." E N D O F P A R T 2 ------ (3/3) Room 1013 Georgetown Memorial Hospital Washington D.C. December 24, 2000 The wind howled ferociously across the plain, spinning its web and throwing snow particles furiously into the air. It screamed, whipped over the land like a spirit bent on revenge. The sky had darkened, the weather ominously plotting its course of mass destruction as dark grey clouds filed across the horizon, violently streaking the heavens. Fox Mulder sat beneath the artificial lighting of the hospital room, wondering if the gods were out to test his patience and sanity. He sighed and rubbed his cheek absently, shifting the sleeping Joseph in his arms. Mulder was finding it harder to sleep. Each time he slipped off, he was jolted awake by nightmares that left him fighting for breath, his eyes wide with terror. After the forth or fifth time he'd finally given up on sleep and had resigned himself to watching the gathering storm and waiting for his partner to wake. Her doctors had become increasingly hopeful as her breathing strengthened and her color improved. She had since been removed from the ventilator, and cleared of most signs of brain damage though they wouldn't be exactly sure until she was conscious. But in that fact was the snag. Despite the fact her respirations were longer, pulled in more air, despite the fact her pulse ox was steadily increasing, regardless of the fact that her skin had nearly regained its normal tone-she still had not woken up. It was only a matter of time, he knew this, but after waiting so long he didn't know how much more he could stand. All he wanted now was for Scully to wake up. That was all he had ever wanted. It was all he had prayed for from the start. Unknown Location December 24, 2000 The last rays of sunlight had disappeared. The inky blackness of night had descended upon her nightmare. And still she remained waiting for the Ghost of Christmas Future. Scully had become so desperate to return to her life that every time she closed her eyes, images from various cases, various years with Mulder, would flood her mind's eye. She was willing to even live the Flukeman case once more. If she could get her life back. She missed the halls of the Hoover Building, the comforting warmth of her apartment, and Mulder's wry humor and lopsided grin. Her eyes floated up, scanned over the branches of snow-coated trees, continued to look up past the smoky mist that filled the horizon and to the clouds. *Please God.* she prayed. *I don't want to see more.* She wanted to go home. She sniffled, wiped a shaking hand across her cheek to catch the crystalline tears that had begun to form and were finally beginning to drop. She caught one on the end of her finger, lifted it to the light, and watched the tiny droplet of water fall into the snow. She sighed lightly. Shut her eyes. As she did so, I shadow shifted and darkness cast itself across the area in which she was sitting. Tentavely she opened her eyes, glanced up and was on her feet in an instant. The Ghost of Christmas Future. Tall, black, with ice-blue eyes that glowed unnaturally. "You're-you're the Ghost of Christmas Future?" Scully stumbled over her words. She waited for a reply, not at all surprised when one did not come. She sighed for the second time and waited. Gradually, slowly, the silent figure lifted one arm and pointed in a southern direction. She looked, though did not move. The figure continued to point until at last she uprooted her feet and began to walk. Nervous, she stumbled over snow mounds, falling to her knees and cursing at the sudden wetness that seeped into her bones and skin. Her head had begun to hurt, reeling with white light and bright colors. She climbed to her feet and continued to walk forward, perhaps for five more minutes before the wraith finally stopped and hovered, black robes shifting in a sudden wind. The wind whirled around her, whipping her hair up as she pulled it away from her eyes. She blinking, clearing her snow-hazed vision. A sight materialized before her, a dark room. She glanced around, her eyes finally settling on a small, frail woman seated in an arm chair. With a shock, Scully realized that the small lady was her mother. Only her natural aura of happiness had faded into something only to be described as hopelessness. Scully turned, angrily searching the room for any sign of the terror that had brought her to such an evil place. Finding none, she turned back to her mother. She watched her for a few moments before creeping forward to get a closer look at the book within her hands. It was a Bible, the pages tattered and beginning to crumble. She looked closely at the front page, at the carefully printed words on each line. Her father's name. Melissa's name. Both of her brothers' name. Each line listed a name, a birth date and, finally, a death date. And suddenly Scully realized why her mother was so disparaged. She was alone. Just as Scully was. And just as she always would be until she one day allowed the people closest to her into her heart. Room 1013 Georgetown Memorial Hospital Washington D.C. December 25, 2000 Mulder was smiling. The baby was sleeping. And Scully was awake, tired and in pain, but awake. Happily, he ran his thumb over the back of her hand, returning the weak smile she managed to throw in his direction. "Do you realize you much you managed to scare me?" he asked quietly, handing her a glass of water. She sipped slowly, waiting until she trusted her voice. "I'm sorry." she finally managed, her vocal cords hoarse with the strain of the last few days. "I know." he murmured. "So am I." She opened her mouth but he quickly shushed her with a touch of his finger against her lips. "You need your rest, Scully. The faster we can get out of this place, the better." She nodded, her eyes fluttering shut. "Merry Christmas Mulder." "Merry Christmas, Scully." he grinned. "Merry Christmas." E N D ------ C. Charlotte "Sympathy constitutes friendship; but in love there is a sort of antipathy, or opposing passion. Each strives to be the other, and both together make up one whole."