From: char@chaffin.com   
      
   NO ARCHIVE   
      
      
      
   SUCH GIFTS AS THESE   
   By Char Chaffin   
   MSR, R, Post-ep for "How the Ghosts Stole Christmas"   
      
   Disclaimer:  Clones on loan   
      
   Written for Fandomonium's S6 Virtual Season   
      
   Dedication:  To NancyBratt, who gives of herself to this fandom and   
   never asks for anything in return -   
      
      
   "Such Gifts As These"   
      
      
   In the early hours of Christmas morning they're still sitting side   
   by side, still talking softly about any number of things.  Neither   
   has even thought to take their jackets off, ease out of their shoes,   
   get more comfortable other than relaxing against the worn leather of   
   his sofa.   
      
   In her lap Scully holds her gift, gently stroking a finger across   
   the polished wooden surface.  He'd somehow remembered, during one of   
   their past talk-a-thons, that she loved kaleidoscopes.  The one he's   
   given her is especially fine, antique in style, made of rosewood with   
   a thick crystal glass that reflects its myriad of colors and shapes   
   in that never-ending pattern that fascinated her as a child and   
   continues to hold her interest, even after all these years.   Her   
   absolute delight at his thoughtfulness as she unwrapped it,   
   manifested itself into a hesitant kiss on his cheek and a murmured,   
   "Thank you, Mulder," into his ear.  The kiss had also prompted her to   
   move closer to him in order to administer it, and as a result they   
   now sit, touching all along their sides.   
      
   It's an additional gift that Mulder finds himself thankful for.   
      
   On the other side of him, propped against the arm of the sofa, his   
   gift from Scully makes him smile more than once.  Not only the idea   
   that she'd buy it, but the underlying reminder that one of these days   
   he really needs to break down and buy a DVD player...   
      
   "Scully, you shouldn't have.  I know how you feel about 'guy   
   flicks.'  Probably the same way as I do, concerning 'chick flicks,'   
   right?"  He'd held the DVDs in his hands, surprised and pleased that   
   she'd thought to buy not only "Caddyshack," but "Blazing Saddles" as   
   well.  "You'll watch these with me sometime, won't you?"  He was half-   
   teasing, half-serious. Always hopeful.   
      
   Scully had slanted him a droll glance.  "I'm making no promises.   
   Besides, you still need to actually go out and buy a DVD player,   
   Mulder."   
      
   "Well, I thought I'd also find one of those, maybe under my tree on   
   Christmas morning..."   
      
   "You don't have a tree," she'd pointed out to him.   
      
   "Sad but true.  My holiday spirit leaves a lot to be desired,   
   doesn't it?"   
      
   Scully had shaken her head firmly, had laid a hand over his and   
   squeezed his fingers gently.  "No.  I don't think that at all,   
   Mulder.  Someone with no holiday spirit wouldn't have remembered not   
   only my love of kaleidoscopes, but then going to the trouble of   
   finding the nicest one I've seen in a long time."  She'd bumped   
   shoulders with him, nudging at him until he'd looked up from their   
   joined hands and caught her soft smile.  "Thanks again."   
      
   "Anytime, Scully."   
      
   In the past few hours they've fallen into silence several times, but   
   it's been a good silence, permeated with that peculiar sense they   
   both have of being able to converse without words.  Sometimes, Mulder   
   thinks to himself, he enjoys the quiet as much as the noise.   
      
   In all honesty Scully should have taken off right after they'd   
   opened their gifts; he knows she's supposed to be at her mother's for   
   Christmas Day gift exchange and dinner.  He also knows, without her   
   actually saying the words, that right now she's content to sit next   
   to him with her head on his shoulder, sometimes talking and sometimes   
   not.  Maybe it's all due to the escalating bad weather outside, but   
   he'll take it, whatever the reason.   
      
   She's still holding his hand.  Another gift, he knows.   
      
   The falling snow outside his window duets strangely well with the   
   static snow on his television set; they never bothered to turn it   
   off.  The winter storm watch is in full effect, with winds picking up   
   and causing white-outs in several areas over DC.  She'll have to call   
   her mother and let her know she's snowed in, for at least several   
   hours more.  Whether or not she also tells her family that she's with   
   him, well... that's her decision.  Mulder knows Mrs. Scully wouldn't   
   worry about her daughter having to wait out a storm, as long as she's   
   with him and not sitting alone in her own apartment.  He also figures   
   her brother will be less than thrilled to hear the same news.   
      
   "I hate to think of you missing out on the family festivities,   
   Scully."  He's already said that to her a few times in the past   
   couple of hours, and her reply is more or less the same one she gave   
   him the first time he said it.   
      
   "If I'd really wanted to go, don't you think I'd have refused to   
   join you on your little pre-holiday ghost busting?  Contrary to   
   popular - and my brother Bill's - belief, I really do know how to say   
   'no' to you, Mulder."  Her voice holds just enough loftiness to   
   challenge him.  "Besides, holidays with the Scully clan are not all   
   they're cracked up to be, trust me.  Mom always manages to make some   
   vague yet well-meaning comment about how it's one more Christmas and   
   I'm still single.  Charlie calls and gets me on the phone, then   
   teases me unmercifully about the same subject.  A couple of years ago   
   he had the nerve to ask me if I was gay."  At Mulder's choke of   
   startled laughter, she nods and sighs in mild disgust.  "Oh, yes - he   
   did.  Bill ends up glowering whenever my job, the FBI or your name   
   comes up, and -"   
      
   He interrupts her, suddenly fascinated by the idea that he might be   
   the subject of past Scully dinner conversation.  "I get talked about?   
   Really?"   
      
   "Yes, really.  Don't take it personally, okay?  Bill always finds a   
   way to get his shorts in a twist about something.  Usually he   
   contents himself with nagging Tara or Mom, but when I'm around I   
   guess I'm his main point of harassment."  The calm tone is belied by   
   the tension in her shoulders, and Mulder can't help but feel badly   
   that once again, he's managed to negatively charge her life,   
   especially around her older brother.   
      
   Reaching out both hands, Mulder clasps her neck and starts massaging   
   the tension away.  He's done this for her in the past and she's   
   always appreciative of his ministrations, yet she'd never ask for   
   herself.  Sometimes he thinks Scully prefers to suffer in silence,   
   taking little for herself when he's right there next to her and could   
   easily soothe some of her aches.   
      
   Under his hands, slowly her tight muscles ease and she sighs again,   
   this time in pleasure.  Her head bows forward, exposing the pale skin   
   of her nape, her hair slipping over her cheeks as her body sways a   
   bit with the rhythm of the massage.  Mulder leans in closer and   
   presses his hands lower, now mid-spine where he can almost see that   
   ball of tension breaking up, dissipating.   Her skin is like silk.   
   Another gift has been given to him... her trust; that he'll take care   
   of her, watch her back in a wholly different way.   
      
   As his fingers move more gently, more of a caress than a massage,   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)