The Best Presents By Mary Kleinsmith (Buc252@aol.com) Category: MA, very faint MSR, M/S Friendship for sure, Holiday/Christmas fic Spoilers: None Rating: PG (maybe even G, but I'm going for safety) Summary: Christmas with Mulder, past and present Disclaimer: They're not mine. I know they're not mine. And I seriously doubt I'm going to make any money on this. Archive: Anywhere, just keep my name attached Feedback: Yes, please! Author's Notes: Yes, it's my annual Christmas story. Short, and yes, I'll use the word this time, Linda . . . sweet. If you're diabetic, be warned. The Best Presents By Mary Kleinsmith (Buc252@aol.com) "Okay, Mulder. I've told you mine; now you tell me yours. What's the one Christmas gift you wanted most but never received? And I mean gift - a toy - not person." She smiled at him over her glass of eggnog, the twinkle in her eye taking the sting from her words. She was right. If given the open question, she knew him well enough to know that his answer would be Samantha every time. "You don't really want to hear this, do you?" She could tell he was hesitant to join the discussion, but the opportunity to learn more about her partner was too strong to resist. "Yes, Mulder. If I can tell you about my Chatty Kathy doll, you can certainly tell me about yours." "Well, it's not like I had a brother who could get the gift I always wanted." "True, but there had to be something." Mulder seemed to think for awhile, and she wasn't sure if he was really pondering the question or just trying to avoid it. Finally, he must have come to a conclusion. "A flexible flyer," he blurted out. Scully couldn't help but smile. "You mean a sled?" "Yeah, but it wasn't just any sled." A sadness had overtaken his face, and she touched his arm gently. "Tell me about it. Please?" "I was twelve, and it had been less than a month since Samantha had been taken. All the boys in the neighborhood had them, but with everything going on, I couldn't join in the play anyway." "Your folks wouldn't let you?" "The kids wouldn't let me. There just wasn't much to say to a classmate who lost his little sister." "So you thought that, if you had a sled, they would." "No, not quite. That Christmas eve, well . . . suffice it to say, my parents had no real desire to celebrate. No decorations, no tree. It used to be the only day of the year they'd make it to church, but that was forgotten, too. And then I made a mistake." She'd seen him grim before, but this was one of the worst. "What happened?" "I asked him about Christmas . . ." "And he said no. . ." "You could say that." He massaged long-healed bruises on his cheek. "He hit you?" she asked incredulously. "At first. Eventually, mom pulled him off me." "And?" "And I ran," he chuckled bitterly, "until I no longer even knew where I was or how to get home - not that I planned on doing that any time soon. But I knew I had to eventually, or it would be even worse." "What did you do?" The sadness in Mulder's eyes was heart breaking. What could all this have to do with a sled? "I just walked for a long time, but after a few hours, I came around a corner and was stopped dead in my tracks. There was a boy about my age - I didn't know him, although I should have - sitting on a Flexible Flyer while his father pulled it behind him." He chuckled, slightly off topic. "He must've gone to private school or something; I'd never seen him at school. I couldn't take my eyes off them as they walked, and before I knew it, I was following them." She studied Mulder as he stopped, noting the moisture in his eyes. This was obviously painful for him, and she wondered if she should stop his story, if only to spare his reliving the experience. But before she could interrupt, he continued. "It was dark, so they never did see me, and eventually, they went into this house. I knew I shouldn't look, but the picture window was huge, and I could see everything. The tree, presents, his mother greeting him with a hug so tight it lifted him from the ground. I knew then that it was time to go home, even though I wouldn't get the same reception." "Oh, Mulder . . ." "I knew they weren't going to be happy with me, but the closer I got to home, the more I convinced myself if I'd just had that sled . . ." "You'd also be able to find that idyllic existence." He laughed bitterly. "Pretty pathetic, huh? Bet you're sorry you ever asked." "I am, but only because it was so hard for you to talk about. I'm sorry I forced the issue, Mulder." She wondered what really happened once he got home last night, but didn't want him hurt by the memories anymore. "It's okay, Scully. It almost helps to talk about it." He laughed, a little lighter this time. "So, now you know why Christmas isn't my holiday." "But it could be," she smiled. "You're coming with me to Mom's tomorrow." "Scully, I can't." "You can, you must, and you will. I'm not taking no for an answer." "But . . . " "But nothing. I know you didn't have plans tomorrow, and now you do." She rose from his living room couch. "Now, if I don't get going, I'm going to be late for midnight mass. Be ready to go at eight am sharp." "Eight o'clock? I thought Scully family roll call was around the tree at six-thirty." "The adults decided we deserved to sleep in a little this year." "Damn. There goes my last excuse." "No excuses, I'm serious, Mulder. Be ready on time." "Yes, ma'am," he nodded, his eyes wide." But they weren't nearly as wide as they were the following day when Margaret Scully welcomed him into her home. The last thing he expected was for there to be a gift under the family tree for him. "This one is for Fox," Margaret announced, presenting the large gift box. "Mrs. Scully . . ." "No, 'buts,' dear. Every member of the family has a gift under the Scully family tree. Now just open it." The first thing to open was a forest green envelope. Inside was a card, and what stunned Mulder most was that, written in handwriting that wasn't Scully's, was the message, "You'll never be out in the cold again." It was probably Maggie's, but how did she know . . . While he was pondering that, his hands were unconsciously tearing the wrapping paper from the box. Under the paper was a box that stunned him into silence. "Where after eleven o'clock on Christmas eve, did you ever . . ." He turned his eyes to Scully. "A Flexible Flyer?!" "Don't ask me, Mulder!" she laughed. "Seems Santa found his way to our house, didn't he?" Mulder rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile. "Next time you see him, thank him for me, okay?" "Hey, he sees you when you're sleeping, and knows when you're awake, right? So he knows." Charlie laughed. Mulder had never met the youngest Scully before, but he was proving to be very nice. Even Bill had been pleasant to him so far. "Well, I guess that's it for the gifts," Maggie announced. "Everybody ready for breakfast?" This took Mulder by surprise, because he'd presumed they'd eaten long before his arrival. "Wait!" Bill called, returning everybody to their places. "We all have one more gift for you, Mom." With Charlie's help, they pulled a large, rectangular, flat gift from behind the sofa. "Oh, you shouldn't have." "It's from all of us," Scully said, hugging her mother. The boys sat the present in front of her, standing on its edge. Mrs. Scully began to tear at the wrapping paper, and when the last of it was removed, she gasped. Mulder wondered what could possibly be so awe-inspiring. "Oh, my dears, I love it!" Turning it around, she showed off her gift to everybody. It was a family portrait, professionally painted on oils rather than photographed, but it was the composition that surprised him most. It was all-encompassing, crossing the years. Matthew Scully sat near Melissa, even though he was born years after her death, and Bill sat beside Maggie, the proud father and grandfather of several grandchildren who were born after his heart attack. But what surprised Mulder most of all was his own likeness in the picture. This was no last-minute run out to the toy store, however well intentioned. He sat in the photo beside his partner, in much the same pose that Bill was with Tara or Charlie with his own wife. His dismay went unnoticed, however, in light of Maggie's glee. "This is fantastic! Every single member of my family together. Even Fox!" she beamed at him warmly. "It needs to go above the fire place just as soon as breakfast is over. Will you hang it, Charlie?" Mulder recalled her telling him that Charlie was the handiest of the Scully family, including the ladies and her now-deceased father. Mulder suddenly wished he'd gotten to meet him, as the portrait depicted. "Sure, Mom," Charlie said with a grin. "I'm sure if I need help, Mulder will lend a hand. Although I do hear that he's a bit accident prone." Everybody laughed, and Mulder couldn't help but join in. The crowd made their way to the dining room, but he hung back, entranced with the picture. Fox Mulder, in a family portrait. It was something he never dreamed he'd see again, but, as the warmth grew inside him, he knew he'd found. He was once again, finally, a part of a family. The End.