Date: 95-11-01 19:37:48 EST All characters property of the indefatiguable Chris Carter and FBC. Everything else copyright to me 1995. I should really be working on history paper right now, but... comments/flames/gift certificates to nsimpson@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca... Hark! The Herald Angels Sting! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ by Nicola Simpson 9:03 pm December 24, 1995 All she could see of the fir tree in front of her was a dim emerald shape shimmering through the salty tears that were already brimming over. She didn't even want to get a tree this year, didn't want to decorate it, didn't want to celebrate. Celebrate what? She angrily knuckled a stray tear from her cheek and tried to focus on the sweet-smelling pine in the corner of her living room. She broke down that morning after a phone call from her mother making sure that she was coming home for Christmas Day. Hell, it was tradition, and she couldn't disappoint the family. The thing was, she felt like she was the worst disappointment of all time. If not for her, her sister would still be alive. Alive and happy and reading everyone's tarot cards on Christmas Eve like usual. She was so ashamed and angry at herself for... for what? She wasn't sure-but she knew she couldn't face the silent recriminations and sorrowful faces of her family. She begged off of spending the whole day at her mother's with everyone, but couldn't get out of dinner. The only thing that might save her there was the fact that she and her mother had managed to get Mulder to promise to be there. Mulder. Right now, he was the only thing that saved her tenuous grip on sanity. He couldn't, however, stop her from wanting to curl up in a ball and wallow in self-pity. He did a lot of that himself, she knew. She was always the fighter, always the reasoner, always tired. She was so tired. Tired of being strong, tired of people admiring her ability to withstand pressure and trauma. She wryly thought that whoever mused "that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger" obviously did not have their life threatened every second Tuesday. Mulder made her stronger, she accepted that now. He fortified her simply by breathing, allowing her to believe in something, even if sometimes the only thing she could believe in was him. She stretched out the shapely legs that were folded up tightly against her aching chest and abstractly examined her socks. Mulder had given them to her last Christmas in a fit of silliness (along with other, less silly gifts) and the musical red and white striped footwear was the only concession she was making to the season. She sighed as she eyed the naked tree. Feeling like an anvil was pressing on her solar plexus, she got up from the couch and tossed aside the cushion she had been hugging. An electronic rendition of "Oh Christmas Tree" permeated the silent room as her feet hit the floor and stepped gingerly over a small mountain of wrapping paper. Oh God, she hadn't even finished wrapping the presents yet. She had brought the box of tree ornaments out of storage, knowing that she would have to do something about the tree sooner or later. A devilish part of her wanted to keep it entirely bare, as a kind of statement, but she knew her mother would be disappointed. So, guilt won out, as usual. She eyed the shiny balls and little wooden toys with a vague remembrance of when she had bought or inherited each piece. She remembered every other Christmas, when, standing on a chair, flushed with delight and just a little champagne, she had told her mother, sister, brothers, even Mulder *exactly* where to put each ornament. Last year, when she and Mulder had decorated by themselves, they had ended up in tipsy giggles when they realized that they had put all the decorations on before the lights. She remembered the way a stray lock of dark hair flopped over his amused hazel eyes as he defended that they should just skip the tree and put the lights out on the roof as a landing signal for passing ufo's. Mulder. She smiled. Where was he tonight? Probably at the Vineyard with his mother. It was just them now. She tried unsuccessfully to swallow a large caustic lump in her throat when she realized how much they had lost this year. It seemed lately like they were always losing, never gaining. Each step they took forward was followed by three steps backwards. She was afraid that one day, one of the backwards steps would be into a dark abyss that they would forever be lost in the murky depths of. She knelt by the box and pulled out several strings of lights. She couldn't figure out which end was where until she remembered that Mulder had put them away last year. Impossible. It took her twenty minutes to untangle them, with a five minute break to open a new bottle of champagne. She wasn't drunk, wasn't even tipsy. Though at times she would love nothing better than to lose herself, her control, she was constantly sobered by the guilt, the sorrow, the frustration that permeated her days and nights. With the lights finally on the tree, she started plucking ornaments out of the box. The coloured balls always went on first, then the wooden ones, then the glass ones. She moved slowly, robotically, in a groove that was set over twenty Christmases before. She started to raise the last glass ornament to the tree, and stopped cold. Melissa had given her the glimmering ball three years before. She teased that the colour matched Dana's aura, and it was always hung near the top of the tree in love and respect. There was always respect between them, even through the disagreements and confusion. And always always love. Dana's eyes were bone dry now as she focused on the orb. Her mind went numb as her fingers tingled when the glass shattered against the wall. She wasn't even aware that she had flung it away, and now it was gone forever. She dropped ungainly to the rug, her eyes tired and burning with the tears she didn't have left to shed. "Scully!" She heard the shout at the same time that Mulder broke in through the front door. She vaguely regretted not locking it as he skidded into the living room. "Are you okay? I heard glass breaking, and I thought-" he cut off, remembering the last time glass was broken in her apartment. So did she, and she turned away, not wanting him to see her tear-stained cheeks and dead eyes. "What are you doing here, Mulder?" "My mother is spending the week with her sister." He shrugged, but she could hear the rejection and pain in his voice. "She needed to get away, she didn't want the reminder of..." She turned and her cold grey eyes fastened on him as she finished for him, "You." He shrugged again as if to prove that he didn't care, but she knew the set of his broad shoulders under his coat said otherwise. She felt her knees creak as she rose from the floor and plodded into the kitchen, Mulder behind her. She automatically reached into the cupboard for another glass, and poured him a flute of champagne. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, but she was impervious to it tonight. She didn't want his sympathy, or his tenderness, or his... She bit back a scream that was threatening to rise from her stomach. Mulder sensed the wall, and stepped back to lean against the counter. "Scully, what happened?" She thrust the wine into his hand. "Nothing." She couldn't meet his penetrating gaze, she just couldn't. She was suddenly overwhelmed by the fear of what she might find there. Pity, gentleness, she couldn't deal with any of it right now. She knew she was being cold and selfish, but she couldn't stop herself. He followed her back out into the living room, tossing his coat over the back of a nearby chair. Mulder frowned. "Why is it so dark in here?" Tonelessly, she replied, "Because the lights aren't on." With the grim recollection of a similar almost forgotten memory, he stepped past her to flick on the tree lights. Her eyes welled up again as she surveyed the tree speckled with starlight and warmth. She blinked rapidly, trying to rid her eyes of the disco-globe effect of the lights shimmering on the tree in the cold dark room, but it was still there every time she opened her eyes. She was so tired. She felt him move towards her slowly, as if in a dream. She knew she should turn away, but she couldn't move. Frozen in her own apathy, the hairs on the back of her neck raised as she heard him breathe beside her. She jolted when his fingers wrapped around her arm and turned her to face him. A thousand shocks of warm, unfamiliar electricity burned through her skin and pooled in her stomach, clenching, twisting with regret and need. She stood ramrod straight, afraid to move, to breathe. Her knees fluttered as she felt his fingers gently touch her cheek, but her eyes were still unreadable as she raised her head from his chest to his mocking hazel eyes. Only they weren't mocking her now. What she saw there usually fortified her, lifted her heart and soul, but now it terrified her beyond reason. Wordlessly, he pulled her into his arms and she rested her wet cheek against the scratchy wool of his sweater. She shuddered against him, but the strength of his body pressed firmly against her never wavered. They stood like that for what seemed like years, breathing in each other's breath, thumbs rubbing hypnotically against bare skin, feeling their chests heave as their aching lungs filling up with each other's familiar heady scent. When he finally moved away, she whimpered softly, until he clutched her hand and pulled her gently to the ground. They lay on the floor, side by side, fused together. He positioned them so that they were lying with their heads underneath the bottom of the tree, so they could look up into the lighted boughs above. "I'm sorry." His whisper caught in his throat, and a dainty glass ornament wavered above him with the motion. He wasn't sure exactly what he was apologizing for, for everything maybe. For not protecting her, for almost dying, for Melissa-there were too many things to be sorry for now. She turned to face him, cradled in his arms. She brushed a wave of dark hair out of his eyes and smiled as she realized it was okay. They were okay. She could survive anything, as long as he was with her. "It doesn't matter now." He nodded silently and drew her closer. The End.