From: Avril Brown Subject: On the Eve ON THE EVE It was snowing; even the snow in DC was grey. Mulder hated the forced gaiety of the festive season, the crowds and the packed, treacherous streets. It had been years since he had shopped for anyone that mattered, and he was at a total loss. He and Scully shared jokes more than gifts. In truth he hadn't a clue what to get for her. She had left quietly for Christmas the night before. He had been in a meeting and the office was empty when he got back, except for the box sitting square in the middle of the desk. Mulder had sat down heavily. He knew it was from her. The wrapping paper was expensive and understated, the gift carefully wrapped. The card was simple, signed only with her name. Mulder sighed; he hardly recognised her writing any more. Gone was the careful hand, and in its place a scrawl that said a lot for the state of her life. To open it in the office would have been a sacrilege of some kind, so Mulder took the present home to place it carefully on the table. He stared at it for a long long time. No, he wouldn't open it, not now. And here he was, Saturday afternoon, two days to Christmas and not a clue what to buy. To him, Scully was the most complete, together person he had ever known. Anything he got would have to convey his respect and the depth of his caring for her, and be something that she would never, ever get for herself. So what if they hadn't been getting along too good lately. Mulder tried not to think about the cracks in their relationship, tried not to think about how it could be down to him. Selfishness was something he had grown up with, had learned to live with in all the long years he had spent alone. Oh, he tried to share, tried to be open with Scully, but sometimes she was so straight it hurt. Mulder needed his bizarre, outlandish theories and the outrageous reports that Skinner threw back at him. He needed that like other people needed Sunday lunch with the family around the table. It was part of what defined him as a person, yet Scully couldn't seem to see that. This year all she seemed interested in was keeping him down, out of sight and muzzled, making sure they both got merit raises instead of suspensions. Maybe he should have talked to her, but she had been so quiet, so withdrawn after her sister's death. Mulder respected her loss; after all, he had one of his own to mourn. At least she had known Melissa. Mulder found that he had never known his father at all. They both had a lot of thinking to do. *What am I doing here?* he thought, standing outside in the slush. *What do I really know about Dana Scully? She's been my partner for three, nearly four years, and I still don't know her.* He had purposely kept away from the malls and the department stores. Mulder knew next to nothing about women's clothes, preferring instead what went inside, but he knew exclusive when he saw the label. He wandered down the street, kicking moodily at the snow. He had been staring into the window for at least ten minutes before he really saw what he was looking at. It was neither coat nor jacket, but something in between. Mulder couldn't tell the material, but whatever it was it was beautiful. Dyed carefully, the material seemed to shimmer between blue and green and some wonderful combinations of the two in the shifting patterns of the sea. It was her. Had to be for her. He went in. The place was so exclusive it hurt. Mulder felt his wallet wince, but the deference he was shown was terrifying, especially when the coat's price was delicately murmured in his ear. To his credit, Mulder never flinched, though he thought he saw his checking account run screaming up the street. Scully was worth easily double the price and more. So why were his hands damp and his knees weak as he walked back to his car with the gift-wrapped package? * * * * * Dana had always looked forward to spending Christmas with her family. When she was young, and her father was in the Service, sometimes they didn't see him for months on end, then at last after weeks of hoping and praying he would come home present-laden on Christmas Eve. Then when they all grew up and moved away it became the one special time when they were all together again. Her mother's house was always warm and bright, a traditional family home, full of love and laughter. But not this year. This year it had all change. Missy - Melissa - her only sister was cold in a grave that had been meant for her. Her mother had said nothing, not a word at the hospital, and only silence at the funeral. There were no recriminations, no angry words, but Dana had seen the coldness in her mother's eyes. *Why her? Why not you?*. The realisation that she was not the favourite and never had been, that she had only basked in her father's approval had been such a hard slap. She didn't doubt that her family loved her, she just thought maybe they didn't like her. Thanksgiving came, and there was no invitation. When Dana called, her mother's long silences were as eloquent as anything she could ever have said. Dana was shaking when she hung up, whitefaced. She sat a long time staring at the floor where Melissa had fallen. She wished now she had let the bloodstain lie, a visible sign of her penitence. And Mulder? Mulder was so wrapped up in his own grief and pain that she doubted he cared too much for what she was suffering. Perhaps if she just talked to him .... But no, they were too much at odds with each other just to talk. Every word was a challenge, a call to arms to defend their beliefs. Dana sighed, and simply pulled it all in further inside herself. Christmas Eve and all alone. It was cold in her apartment; she hadn't bothered to turn the heating up. It was so quiet, Dana thought if she listened hard enough she might here some words of forgiveness, some benediction that might say *At least you tried. You don't deserve this*. A short bitter laugh, "You are out of your mind," Words spoken aloud that dropped heavily into the silence. She pulled the quilt tighter around her *Just when had she started sleeping out here on the couch?* The whiskey was pleasantly warming, soothing. Maybe if she had a drop more, then tomorrow she would have the courage to drive out to her mother's and hand over the gifts she had bought for the family .... * * * * * *Odd* Mulder thought, as he turned into the short driveway, *No sign of Scully's car. Maybe she got a ride over here.* The house was still as he crunched up the path. This was the second time in quick succession that the festive season had been marred by tragedy, but the Scully's were a resilient lot - tough - and he thought there would have been more life about the place. He rang the bell and it echoed dismally someplace in back. He stepped forward as Margaret Scully opened the door, then his smile faded as he took in her grim expression, "Uh - hi," He quickly choked down the 'Merry Christmas' that he had been going to say. "Agent Mulder. What can I do for you?" "I - um - came to see Dana ...." "She's not here," And Mrs Scully turned back into the house. Mulder finally took that step forward, and grasped her elbow, "Wait - please," So many things that he had noticed in the past months, but had been too selfish to pay attention too suddenly made awful sense. "Just leave, Agent Mulder. Now. Please." He could feel her shaking. "Mrs Scully .... Dana's hurting too. Don't shut her out ...." Mulder would never be entirely sure what it was that hit him, all that he knew was that suddenly he was flat on his back in the snow in front of the porch. From the red hair, it had to be one of Dana's brothers. He tried to sit up, but a boot caught him in the ribs. He doubled over, the blood from his nose staining the snow scarlet. His eye was swelling already. "Charlie! Charles! Come away!" "Yeah, Charlie, better do what Mommy tells you," *You just couldn't keep your big mouth shut, could you?* He raised his hands to protect himself as best he could, but Charles only bent down towards him. Mulder gasped as Charles grabbed a handful of hair and dragged his head back. "Stay - away. You hear me? Keep away from us. Don't you think you've caused enough trouble for this family?" He stayed slumped in the snow as Charles stalked back, then the rage took over and he threw himself on the other man's back. They rolled and tussled in the snow until they were pulled apart. *Must be 'Junior'* Mulder thought, looking at stouter, shorter version of the man whose fist had dented his face and whose teeth had grazed his knuckles. There was some lecture about 'inappropriate behaviour', then the Scully men were inside and the door was shut. *Not Scully. Not her as well* he thought desperately as he held a handful of snow to his face in the car. At last, the snow melted and he drove away. * * * * * Mulder drove for hours, in circles through deserted streets, until he was too tired and cold to think any more. He pulled up outside Scully's apartment, but the place was in darkness. Besides a glance in his mirror showed that he was no picture painting, eye puffed and darkening, and with blood down his chin and shirt. The last thing he wanted now was for Scully to spend Christmas Eve doctoring his hurts. There had been too much of that already. He went home instead. * * * * * It was snowing when Mulder woke, the first truly white Christmas in years. He had always loved the snow, even when it caused traffic chaos, and even the year his neighbour's pipes froze and he got flooded out. It reminded him of happier times. This year, his heart sank. All he wanted was to crawl back into the cocoon of sleep and hide until January 2nd. At least the swelling in his face had subsided. He might be marginally presentable for what he had to do today. But first his duty phone call. As he dialled, Mulder wondered idly if he should be ashamed that he always had to go look for his mother's number. Scully's mother - he could remember her number like .... The thought died on the 'that'. "Mom? Hi, Merry Christmas ...." * * * * * Call made, Mulder sat back on the couch. The TV was off for once, he couldn't stand all that schmaltz. He stared at the present still lying where he'd left it on the coffee table. At last, he reached out a hand and began to open it. He opened the box curiously, and almost dropped it. She'd only gone and got him a Cartier watch, classic analogue style, complete with an intricate solid steel band. He sat with it in his hand for a long time before he could bring himself to try it on his wrist. It looked good, a real classy timepiece sitting solidly on his wrist. What was she thinking about, spending that kind of money on him? It made him he had bought her the coat. * * * * * Dana felt the silence, knew it was snowing. Snow always meant ice shoved down her back, snowmen in the yard and Melissa and her getting soaked through making snow angels. Snow was tied up so intricate with memories of her family and the secure childhoods they had it made it too much to face. Dana hid her head under the quilt and wished the day to pass real quick so she could get back to work and put on her happy face again. She slept. * * * * * The doorbell did faintly penetrate her dreams, but she simply ignored it. Didn't some people have homes and family to go to on Christmas? Some people didn't, now she numbered among them. Then strong hands were peeling back the quilt, easily quieting her protests, and a worried - and familiar - voice was saying, "Scully? You okay? Are you sick?" Whatever Mulder had expected, it wasn't this. The apartment was clean at least, but it didn't smell of lemon polish like it used to. Tapes lay out of their cases in front of the VCR and CD's and magazines were scattered on the table and on the shelf by the stereo. The whiskey bottle, three-quarters empty, did surprise him, but he had been down that avenue to temporary comfort himself, so he didn't comment. Instead he went into the kitchen and set the coffee to perk and some bread in the toaster. When he came back out with his tray, Scully was awake at last, emerging from the nest of blankets and quilt she had made for herself on the couch. He knew this scene, had played it a thousand times himself. What the hell was it doing in Scully's life? "Mulder. Whatcha' doing here? It's Christmas, don't you know?" She wasn't meeting his eye. "I know. That's why I'm here. I came to thank you for this," he held up his left hand, "And to bring you this," He passed over the box. In her arms, the parcel was enormous. *How come her brothers got to be so big? Charlie had at least three inches on me.* She did look up then, "What did you do to your face?" *Think fast, Mulder!* "I - uh - walked into something," *Oh, Jesus, and that was lame!* "Walked into what?" And that wonderful dryness was back in her voice. Maybe she was getting herself together just a little bit. "Um - somebody's fist." *Why the hell was he /blushing/ for god's sake?* "*Whose* fist?" "Your - um -brother's?" *Charles. It had to be Charles. Bill Jnr was so hot on being head of the family now he never got into fistfights. Charles had never gotten over being the younger and having to fight to be noticed ...." "Mulder, how did this happen? What were you doing at my mother's?" "Looking for you. To give you this. Your brother didn't seem to take to kindly to my being there. We had a little difference of opinions." Scully was examining his face now, even though he really didn't want her to. He caught her hands, pulled her down to sit beside him. "It's all right. I'm fine. Look, it doesn't even hurt," And he pulled a ridiculous face that startled a laugh from her. *That's better.* "Come on, open your present." She hesitated, "Mulder, tell me - tell me it stops hurting." The 'what?" was in his eyes. "Being shut out - rejected by your family. Tell me it doesn't hurt after a while." He wasn't about to insult her by telling her it would all blow over, that the hadn't rejected her. He had been there, had seen, hell, even had the bruises to prove how much of an outsider she had become. "I wish I could tell you that, Dana. I wish I could. But it never stops hurting, never, you just learn how to ignore it, how to live with the - pain." There he had said it. Had admitted - albeit obliquely - to what he lived with every day, how he felt when he closed his eyes at night, when he opened them again in the morning. Dana looked up, saw her pain mirrored in his eyes, then they were groping for each other's hands. They clung to each other for long moments, then Mulder whispered, "Open your present, willya, the suspense is killing me." As the last of the wrapping fell away, Dana couldn't suppress a gasp. She shook the coat out and held it up before slipping it on and dashing to the full-length mirror in her bedroom. Mulder sat back and smiled. It had been a long time she he had since her *this* animated. He looked up at the sound of her voice. "Mulder, it's beautiful," Her voice was a whisper, and he found he couldn't identify her tone, whether it was surprise, pleasure, gratitude, sadness, or some mix of all of them. He went to her. "It looks good on you. You can wear it later." She looked askance, and he went on, "When I take you out to dinner," And he held up a hand to forestall any protests, "I already made the reservations. I'm not letting you spend Christmas alone. You, of all people, don't deserve that." "You've done exactly that every year since I've known you," "That's different," Mulder spoke gently, "That's me. It's not okay for you to be the same. Now come on, hit that shower and get ready." * * * * * The tears came while she was in the shower and she let them fall. She * cried for what she had lost, but also for what she had gotten back. * *HerMulder had come back, just when she thought they had lost each * other for good. She wondered what she had been thinking when she bought him the watch. Had she been trying to buy back his friendship with one expensive gift, hoping that something so material would turn aside all those hurtful words and lost moments when they might have reached out to one another. *Get real, Dana. You know better than that. You know him better than that. You have to /earn/ his friendship again, not /buy/ it.* It might have been her father speaking. *Get out there and dazzle him. Be the one person he trusts and needs in his life. Then he can do the same for you.* She smiled and sketched a mock salute, "Aye, aye, cap'n," She mopped her tears on her towel, and tried to think what to wear that would do the coat justice. As she searched through her wardrobe, Dana realised that Mulder had come dressed, casual but smart all the same. So it wasn't formal, wherever he was taking her. Then she found it, right at the back, a simple green dress Melissa had helped choose for her the previous summer. Dana had liked the colour because it showed off her hair so well, but somehow she had never had the occasion to wear it. "Thanks, Missy," she whispered to the room, and she thought she saw an answering smile out of the corner of her eye. "I gotta dump the rest of that Scotch ...." It took her an age to choose her jewellery. She had stopped wearing her crucifix altogether round about the time Melissa had been killed. At last she settled on the pendant Mulder had given her for her birthday a couple of years ago, and earrings her father had brought her from Japan. Before she left her bedroom, she stopped to stroke the little grey cat that curled on her nightstand. When she had a nightmare she would take it in her hand and hold it until she fell asleep again, comforted by the warmth of the wood in her hand. That, too, had been a present from her partner. When at last she emerged, her hair piled on top of her head and wear only the lightest of makeup, it was to a double-take and a slow, appreciative smile from Mulder. "I'm sorry, I was just waiting for my partner. You haven's seen her anywhere, have you?" She swatted him across the shoulder, but smiled anyway. "You look great, Dana. You ready?" "Almost," she let him help her into the coat. "Okay, I'm ready now. Where are we going?" "It's a surprise." * * * * * And it had been a surprise. Only Mulder would think of a Chinese restaurant for Christmas dinner, but the break with tradition was exactly what she had needed. So they shared a banquet, scattering rice and sauce as both finally relaxed and enjoyed each other's company. Mulder was on good form, joking with her, ducking from the waitress who kept trying to flirt with him and telling her with his eyes, his gestures that he was enjoying her company. She even danced with him a little, liking the feel of his arms around her, feeling warm and safe like she hadn't done in months. Mulder insisted on paying the bill when at last they were done, and she let him kiss her under the mistletoe strategically placed above the door. It left them both breathless, and it was then she saw clearly in his eyes what they'd both been trying to hide for so long. "Before we go back," Dana said in the car, "I need to go by my mother's." Mulder thought there was something a little odd in the way she had said that, but he took her there as asked. Mulder parked on the street, "Do you want me to wait out here?" "No," On the way up the path, Mulder felt her hand steal into his. Hand in hand, they waited for the door to be answered. "Dana," "Mother," They might have been strangers for all the coolness in their voices. "Well, mother, are you going to ask us in, or shall we talk out here on the step." Mrs Scully held the door opened, and Dana pulled Mulder inside. He had only been there once before, when Dana had been gone two months, he had taken in little of what he had seen. Silence, born of surprise or hostility, greeted their entrance into the huge livingroom. "Auntie Dana!" Her niece and nephew would have run to her, but for their parents' hands on their shoulders. "Isn't this nice, Mulder, a nice little *family* gathering? Means I only have to say this once." Mulder caught the little silent cue meant for him, and casually draped one arm around her shoulders. He was kind of looking forward to this - he had never seen Dana make a scene before. "Melissa's gone - she was my sister, too. It was me she stayed in touch with when she dropped out of school and went out to California. It was Melissa who was there when I nearly died. You're not the only ones who wish it was me instead of her who got that bullet in the head! You're not the only ones hurting - have *any* of you stopped to think how I might feel? Knowing that that bullet was meant for me? Do you? Do you have any idea?" Dana's face was flushed, and Mulder thought he saw the first tingles of guilt sweep around the room. "Now, Dana ...." "Enough already, mother! You guys had your say at the funeral. Now I'm going to have mine!" "Do what your mother tells you!" "You're not her father and this isn't your house," Mulder's quiet words fell into a suddenly silent room. Whether unconsciously or not, Mulder had let his jacket fall back, showing that he was armed. Bill Jnr subsided, without a murmur. Like his younger brother, he usually thought Mulder a bit of a joke, but tonight, standing at his full height, there was something - dangerous - in his brooding eyes. "You two deserve each other all right," Charles stepped forward. "Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here ...." "Invited by me. And I have as much right as any of you. This is my *father's* house," Dana stepped forward, poking her brother in the chest with each word, "And if you *ever* , and I mean *ever* lift your hands or your feet to my partner again, you'll have me to deal with!" The kick to her brother's knee, which was simultaneous with the punch to his solar plexus was so fast even Mulder didn't see it coming. Even then, he couldn't prevent the blow which she landed square on both his nose and mouth as soon as he doubled up to her level. It sent him to the floor, where he lay, the blood pouring down his faces. Mulder smiled. The new bruises would go well with the ones he already. "You better listen up real good, Charles - and you, Bill - if you don't - so help me God, I'll teach you both how the human body is eviscerated!" With one final glare around the room, Dana stalked to the front door, nodding a polite "Mother," as they passed Mrs Scully. When they got into the car, Mulder said, "God, Dana, you were magnificent! When you knocked Charles down, I thought they were all going to have a collective fit - Dana, what's wrong?" She cried all the way home. * * * * * That night, they both slept in his bed. This, this was what they needed. Now they only had one another left. It was - fitting. They deserved each other indeed. Now they had each other, and in some strange way the miracle of the season had again worked its magic END