Title: Love, Spirit and a bit of Santa Author: Xtremus E-Mail: StarbukDKS@aol.com Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: G Classification: MSR, Scully angst Spoilers: Itsy bitsy tiny for "How the Ghosts Stole Christmas" Archiving: Archive away and spread my holiday cheer! Please e-mail so I know where it's going though Summary: The thought of spending Christmas alone this year gives Scully a bit of a depression. Feedback: It's like cookies and milk....send it! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* "What good is a heart, if it's all alone, Without someone special there to hold The heart was not meant to waste away. What good is a love, if it's not sincere, You need someone who's always there. Some people search the whole night long Trying to find someone true. Well, don't go searching cause I'm right here, I'm waiting for you." "Love Will Be Waiting At Home," by For Real ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Love, Spirit and a bit of Santa By: Xtremus ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------ If I hear silent night one more time, I swear I'm going to start taking hostages. I'm not kidding. The man in front of me is having an amusing time trying to figure out how he can possibly fit all his gifts into the largest sized shopping bag. The woman in back of me has been bitching for god knows how long on how she couldn't find the Furby her son most desperately wanted. At the sound her voice, I tighten my grip on my purchases, neglecting to say anything about the last precious creature I had snatched off the shelf moments before at Kay-Bee for my cousin Matthew. If I hear silent night one more time, I really am going to start taking hostages. This is the last time I let my work get the better of me and leave my normally done 2 months in advance holiday shopping to the day before Christmas. Alright, I'll admit it. It's not the people that are making me depressed in all honesty. It's more myself. The reason I'm actually in the mall tonight is to buy gifts for my family, who, because of numerous complications and conflicts, will not be together until after Christmas. Unfortunately, I am scheduled to be at the office and away on a case the day after the holiday, which means no family time until January. A fitting way to spend the joyous holiday season and ring in the new millennium, if I do say so myself. Sitting on my couch watching boring movies, stuffing myself with popcorn and candy, hoping that someone will care enough to call and wish me a happy holiday while I sit surrounded my noisemakers which I will half-heartedly raise in celebration at twelve A.M. Christmas sprit? Oh yeah, it certainly has been there. Back in the days when Missy and I were no more than twelve and fourteen, it was almost contagious. Laying awake in bed, staring endlessly at the clock urging Christmas day to come, and then singing Scully Christmas carols with Bill and mom. Missy never believed in Santa Claus, she was always too mature for that sort of stuff. But Santa was the savior of my entire year until I was about sixteen or so. He was the one person who made my young life a joy, the one person who I knew I could count on to bring me that Barbie Dream House, Hotel California or sweatshirt I had begged my non relenting parents for throughout the year. Okay, so I obviously don't believe in Santa anymore. But the spirit has still been there, I've certainly felt it. Putting up a tree in my apartment, calling my family each year, receiving Christmas cards from countless people who care to write more than "Happy Holidays, Wishing You All The Best." I got some cards this year. And I sort of put up a tree, if you count the tiny one foot miniature that stands by my door. But the magic of the holiday is gone. And I know without seeing my family, it will be even more apparent. Christmas spirit? I swear, this year I don't have it. Bah, humbug. The man in front of me finally figures out an ingenious way to stuff all his five million dollars worth of purchases into a large shopping bag, and walks away rather huffily as I step up to the counter. Unloading my gifts, I try to distract myself with the mall surroundings and not pay attention to the fact these purchases are for people who I won't see this year. Silent Night starts over again as I grind my teeth in frustration. Snippets of children's pleading cries for "just one more gift" fill my ears. I think the woman in back of me has stopped complaining, but now she stamps her foot in annoyance as she waits her turn. Hell, I don't blame her. I'd be doing the same if I wasn't constantly reminded I'm an FBI agent who has to keep herself calm for the sake of others. "Here ya go, ma'am. And a very merry Christmas to you!" The young man in the decorated Santa hat grins cheerfully at me as he deposits my now colorfully wrapped presents over the counter. I muster a fake smile as I slap a handful of bills on the counter, and turn away slowly. It wasn't always like this. Even though my job keeps me away, I've seen my family time enough. And even though I spent last year running through a haunted house with my ghost-believing partner, I still had time to enjoy a nice holiday visit. Maybe it's not my family that's making me lose my Christmas spirit. Maybe it's myself. Or maybe I've never had it. Strange, isn't it for someone so skeptical to believe in Santa Claus and Christmas spirit. Strange, isn't it that my "ice queen" persona doesn't feel it this year? You tell me. I'm lost in thought until I round the corner by Haagan Daaz and squeals of laughter become evident. And then I just stand in the middle of the mall, clutching all my gifts and watching the scene before me in awe. Stretched in front of me is the most beautiful rendition of a winter wonderland for children. Fake, white crystalline snow gently showers the patiently waiting youngsters who stand amongst a giant candy cane and intricate snow sculptures. A snow-covered gazebo sits in the middle of everything, complete with one of those high-backed chairs that they used for kings in medieval days. Giant glittering snowflakes hang from the roof, suspended ever so gently that they are just above a child's head, encasing them in a snow-filled world. And sitting among the decorations, the white confetti, and loudspeakers that belt out "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," is the one and only thing a child wants to see at this point in time--Santa Claus. I am in complete, utter awe. For just a teeny moment, I whole-heartedly wish I was seven again so I could run and jump into Santa's arms. Growing up military-base style, none of us ever got to have the real "mall Santa" experience, just our dad red flannel pajamas and Bill as his trusty elf. I really don't know why this attracts me. Maybe because I really want to have the holiday childhood I never had. Maybe because I never had someone to tell my thoughts to. Maybe because I'm in a depressed mood and need to be cheered up, even if it is going to be by a commercialized spirit. I really don't know what provokes me to do it. All I know is that about ten seconds later, my purchases and I are pushing through the mass of yelling and screaming youngsters, and about two seconds after that, I find myself staring into the snow-covered gazebo. Santa himself looks shocked. He really does. I think he is expecting me to be with a child, and is a little more than surprised when I, a thirty year old woman, climb into his lap. "Hohoho!" His laugh is deep, cheery, and merry. He's dressed like all other holiday Santas, but for some reason, he seems more welcome and cheerful than I would expect after spending the whole day with hoards of crying children. He grins at me. "A little big for Santa, aren't we?" "I thought the holiday was for all ages," I say, defending myself rather lamely. I shuffle my feet against a ground that is coated in fake snow and glitter, and sigh audibly. "True, true...a time to be merry, a time to forgive, a time to believe." He stares at me for a moment, as though analyzing. I look away, unable to meet his view as he looks me up and down. "Santa's big girl looks a little depressed...we haven't been a bad one now, have we?" "Hardly." I almost laugh as I think of how much I've been though this year. Between forging my own beliefs and saving Mulder's ass, the rights and wrongs almost seem to cancel themselves out. "So what seems to be the lack of holiday spirit?" Never mind the five minute time limit. Never mind there are over three dozen kids waiting to climb into Santa's lap. Never mind I am getting the evil eye from parents with tiny babies. He was Santa Claus. It was only once a year. And I need to tell someone. What the hell. "It's my partner," I finally say a little reluctantly, continuing my stare at the ground. I am becoming quite good at spotting which parts of the floor are glitter and which parts are snowflakes. "Ah." Santa's mouth twitches, his beard forming a warm, almost knowledgeable smile. "He's not a committed husband?" I almost laugh at that, despite my feelings of depression. "No. We're...we're not married" I say quietly. I take a deep breath before I continue. "He's my work partner." "Oh, I see. Handsome?" "Very." "Humorous?" "At times." I almost smile at the thought of Mulder and his quips. True, they weren't all my bag of treats, but the times he's cheered me up makes up for that, I guess. Santa leans back in the high-backed chair, stroking his beard, and nodding. I can almost see the wheels turning beneath his red cap as he furrows his brows in thought. After a long moment of silence, he speaks. And his words surprise me. "I think he's very committed to you." I raise an eyebrow. "How do you figure?" I settle myself more comfortably on his red velvet leg, suddenly interested. "Well, from your description, he seems like the type of guy who cares about you very much. The type of guy who would put himself on the line for you. If you can sit here and tell me that you find him handsome and humorous, you're obviously very close." "What does that have to do with commitment?" I ask, somewhat confused. "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" ends, and "Silent Night" starts up again. "Everything," Santa says, waving his hands. "I think he's not just committed to you, he's also committed to your feelings. Maybe he doesn't show it because he's scared that you won't feel the same if he tells you how he feels. But maybe he feels sad sometimes that you don't tell him everything about your life, especially when he wants to help you. That makes him committed. He seems like the sort of guy who wants to help you, and who won't stop until he's sure your truly happy." I stare at him, almost in shock. For a mall Santa, this guy is pretty good. Maybe I can suggest a career for him that is more promising than listening to children's wishes and knowing he won't be able to grant them. Like a holiday psychologist. "Are you spending your holiday with him?" Santa's curious voice startles me out of my thoughts. I bite my lip, almost afraid to answer, almost forgetting this is a stranger I'm telling my life to, not my mother. "No, I'm not." "And why not?" "Just...because." I sigh. "We don't associate much outside of work..and when we do, it's sort of awkward. We may be committed, but we're not the type to hang out comfortably with each other." "Oh." he looks somewhat disappointed. "But you're getting him a Christmas gift, right?" I smile at that, almost ashamed. "What I want to give him for Christmas I can't find at any store," I admit quietly. I reach up to smooth my hair, and my hand brushes against one of the huge snowflakes that hangs over me. I absently reach back up and play with the glittered edges. Santa looks surprised. "Is it too big?" I half smile, as my heart fills with sorrow and the feelings I know I'll never be able to say out loud. "It's far to big...it's the biggest thing I could buy. And expensive at that." "Maybe I can help, then." Santa's eyes suddenly begin to twinkle, and for a moment I really forget this guy is getting paid to listen like this. "I don't think so..." I trail off, wondering if I should say more. I take a deep breath, feeling the butterflies evident in my stomach and bring my hands together in my lap to repress my fidgeting. With a sigh, I look up into his kind, bearded face. When I speak, my voice comes out soft and shy. "But maybe you can help me figure out a way to tell him how much I love him." "Maybe..." His voice trails off, and suddenly becomes deep and masculine, surprising me. "Maybe you've just told him." He leans forward, resting his lips on mine ever so gently. I kiss back, feeling his beard hairs as they tickle my the sides of my cheek. Feeling the pressure of his lips on mine is almost indescribable. He opens his mouth a little wider and I lean into it, caressing the outside of his lips and the inside of his mouth, which tastes like gingerbread and Christmas cooking all rolled in one. When I finally pull away, I am wearing one of those 100 watt smiles. "Mulder, I swear to God, you're going to outdo me one of these days." He laughs heartily. "Don't you think my years of spying with you did me any good?" he asks softly, placing a padded arm around my shoulder. I lean into his warmth as he rubs my back. Maybe there will be no presents under the tree with year. Maybe my holiday spirit is gone. But at least I've found my Santa Claus. FINIS. Wishing you all the best this holiday season! You can make my holiday happy by sending feedback...StarbukDKS@aol.com