Subject: xfc: REV:  Not a Hallmark Kind of Guy (1 of 2)
From: publius@avalon.net  (Brandon Ray)
Date: Sun, 19 December 1999 07:55 PM EST
Message-id: <385D7D78.E58CD059@avalon.net>

From: Brandon Ray <publius@avalon.net>

NOTE:  I'm reposting this one in honor of the season, and in 
honor of Fox showing "How the Ghosts Stole Christmas" as a 
rerun.  There have been some minor changes made -- corrected 
some typos, reworded a couple of sentences -- but there have 
been no important changes in terms of plot, characters, etc.

TITLE:  Not a Hallmark Kind of Guy

AUTHOR:  Brandon D. Ray

EMAIL ADDRESS:  publius@avalon.net

DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT:  No to gossamer; it's already there.  
Anywhere else is fine, so long as my name stays on it and no 
money changes hands.

FEEDBACK:  Oh, hell yes....

Ephemeral: *FEEDBACK*publius@avalon.net

SPOILER WARNING:  How the Ghosts Stole Christmas; Redux II; 
Christmas Carol; Emily

RATING:  PG-13

CONTENT WARNING:  MSR; Bill jr./Tara; Charlie/other.  Bad 
language, including the "f" word.  Implied sexual situations, 
but nothing you wouldn't see on prime time.

CLASSIFICATION:  SRA

SUMMARY:  Post episode.  What happened after the end of "How the 
Ghosts Stole Christmas"

DISCLAIMER:  Nope, I do not own these characters or situations.  
If I were THAT smart, I would be rich.


Not a Hallmark Kind of Guy

by Brandon D. Ray


I haven't always been an asshole; I've had to really work at it.  
But work at it I have, and that explains why I'm sitting here on 
Christmas evening all by myself in my mother's kitchen, like an 
unwanted guest who no one quite has the heart to ask to leave.  
And the worst part of it is that I really have no one but myself 
to blame.

It all started early this morning.  I'd been up about 45 
minutes, and the rest of the family was there too:  My mother; 
my brother and his wife and kids; and of course Tara and 
Matthew.  In the old days Dad would have been there, as well, 
presiding over the festivities, but those days are over, and 
it's actually been long enough now that the hurt is down to a 
dull, almost subliminal ache rather than a sharp, stabbing pain.

The only one missing was Dana, but I wasn't too concerned about 
that.  She was always the late sleeper in our family, and I 
assumed she'd probably slept through her alarm and would be 
showing up just a little late.  It was only 6:15, after all; 
only fifteen minutes past the scheduled starting time.

I actually know exactly what time it was when things started to 
go to hell:  6:18 a.m.  I know this because I happened to be 
looking at the clock when it happened.  Mom was sitting on the 
sofa, talking to Tara and playing with Matthew.  Charlie had 
just stepped out to the kitchen to get himself another cup of 
coffee; his wife, Betty, was sprawled in the big easy chair, and 
their kids, my niece and nephew, were sitting on the floor at 
her feet, eying the Christmas tree and no doubt trying to figure 
out which of the gifts under there were for each of them.  I 
remember winking at Mikey, and then glancing up at the clock to 
try to calculate when Dana might finally show up.  And then the 
phone rang.

Mom reached out and picked it up.  I wasn't especially trying to 
listen, but I didn't have any real reason not to.  I was sitting 
there on Tara's other side, and Mom's voice came through clear 
as a bell, friendly and happy.

"Oh, Dana!  We were just wondering where you were.  Is 
everything okay?"  A moment of silence while she listened to the 
answer.  I wasn't too terribly interested, other than to find 
out just exactly how late Dana would be.  Then Mother went on, 
"That's perfectly understandable, dear.  How soon can we expect 
you?"  She glanced up at the clock.  "About an hour?  That's 
fine."  She hesitated just a minute, and her eyes flicked over 
to me and then away again.  "Dana, does Fox have any plans for 
the rest of the day?"

I'm sure my jaw must have dropped at that moment.  I don't 
remember it, but I'm sure it happened.  What I do remember is 
thinking that this couldn't really be happening; my mother was 
NOT about to invite that sorry son of a bitch to join us for 
Christmas.  Please, God, I thought, make it not be happening.

But it was.  The next words out of her mouth, after listening to 
Dana for a moment, were, "Paperwork?  What kind of an excuse is 
that?  Let me talk to him."  A brief pause, while I continued to 
pray.  Then: "Fox, do I understand from Dana correctly that you 
are snubbing my invitation to join the family for Christmas?"

For just an instant I almost felt sorry for the poor bastard.  
When Mom gets into her determined mode -- as she was at that 
moment - she can intimidate rear admirals with thirty years of 
service.  I've seen her do it.  But then after another pause she 
started speaking again and all my sympathy for Mulder 
evaporated.  "All right, then; that's better.  I'll see you both 
in an hour.  Give my love to Dana."  And she hung up.

#          #          #

And this was the point where I really started to get in trouble.  
I could have -- should have -- just waited it out.  Sat there on 
the sofa next to my wife, watched my mother playing with her 
newest grandson, chatted companionably with my sister-in-law and 
brother, and tried to ignore the growing sense of panic I felt 
in the pit of my stomach.

Yes, panic.  It's not anger that drives my behavior when Fox 
Mulder is around; it's fear.  Panic.  These emotions just happen 
to express themselves as anger because that's the way I've 
learned to compensate for such feelings.  It's not a good 
adjustment, I know, and it's landed me in hot water on more than 
one occasion in both my personal and my professional life.  But 
I can't seem to do anything about it, and I really have tried.

So what am I afraid of, you may ask.  And let me tell you that 
this is a damned good question.  Unfortunately, I don't know the 
answer; I just know that everytime I see that bastard I get this 
tight, constricted feeling in my chest, and when Dana's there 
with him (as she usually is) it's just ten times worse.  
Sometimes just hearing his name is enough to set it off, and 
this morning, knowing that he was on his way here, was one such 
occasion.

After a moment or two of this I got up off the sofa and went out 
to the kitchen, thinking if I could just get a few minutes alone 
I might be able to get my feelings under control, so I could at 
least act civil when Dana and Mulder got here.  The fly in that 
particular ointment was that I'd forgotten that Charlie was 
already in the kitchen.

"Hey, Bro," he said, glancing up from the coffee maker as I 
stepped across the threshold.  "Who was on the phone just now?  
Dana oversleep again?"

My brother knows Dana as well as I do -- better, in some ways.  
As the two youngest children they'd formed a sort of pact when 
we all were kids, and they're still close.  A pity I didn't 
remember that at the time, or I might have handled the 
conversation that followed a little better than I did.  Or maybe 
not.

"Yeah, it was Dana," I said.  "I don't know if she overslept, 
but she's running a little late."  I took a deep breath, trying 
to calm myself.  "And she's bringing her partner with her."  I'm 
sure my voice would have been just as friendly if I'd been 
reporting that Dana was bringing a rattlesnake with her, but 
Charlie either didn't notice, or chose not to notice.  More 
likely that latter; not much gets by Charlie.

"That's great!" he said.  "I've been wanting to meet him for the 
longest time.  How soon will they be here?"

"Seven thirty," I grated out.

Charlie slid the pot out from the coffee maker and poured 
himself a cup.  He offered the pot to me, but I shook my head; 
the last thing I needed right then was caffeine.  He put the pot 
back on its warming pad, then leaned back against the counter 
and looked at me for a minute.  Finally, he said, "Sounds like 
you've got a problem with this, Bill."

"I guess you could say that," I snapped.  There was more anger 
in my voice than I really had intended; this wasn't Charlie's 
fault, and in my heart I knew it.  Unfortunately he happened to 
be standing in the line of fire.  "I mean, Jesus!  Isn't it bad 
enough that the family's scattered to the four winds?  Do we 
have to have a stranger in the house on the first day in nearly 
five years that we're all actually together under one roof?  Is 
that really necessary?  Is it appropriate?"

Let me explain something about Charlie.  He works in ONI, and he 
is one sharp operator.  Even as a kid he had a way of peering 
into people and discerning their real thoughts and emotions, as 
distinct from the public faces we all choose to put on.  He's 
been going up the ladder like a rocket, and I have little doubt 
that he'll have his flag before I do, although at the moment 
he's still one step behind me.

So it was no real surprise -- or shouldn't have been -- when he 
slipped his hands in his pockets and tilted his head sideways, 
and finally said, "I don't know, Bill.  Are you sure those are 
your real objections?"

"Of course they're my real objections!" I said.  "Isn't it 
enough?  I thought this was supposed to be a family gathering!"

Charlie raised his eyebrows at me, but still he kept his cool.  
Charlie is a lot better than I am at behaving appropriately in a 
tense situation, and that's another reason why he'll make 
admiral before I do.  He said, "I don't know, Bill.  I guess it 
depends on how you define 'family', doesn't it?"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that Fox Mulder is probably closer to Dana at this 
point than any of us are.  In a very real sense he IS part of 
her family."  He smiled and softened his voice, and took a step 
towards me.  "Come on, Bill; lighten up.  It's only for a few 
hours, and it will make Dana happy.  Isn't that reason enough?"

I should have taken his advice.  I really should have.  But I 
was on a roll, and I was having none of it.  "The hell with 
that!" I said.  "This jerkwad doesn't belong here, and how you 
can sit there and call him part of the family after the things 
he's DONE to this family is just...just....bullshit!  That's 
what it is, Charlie, bullshit!"  And then I said the thing that 
really sealed my fate.  "And just for the record, who in the 
hell are YOU to be telling ME what will and won't make Dana 
happy?  Where the fuck were YOU when she was dying last year?  
I'll tell you where I was; I was at her bedside, trying to 
comfort her!  Where the hell were you, Charlie?"

Charlie's face went white and his lips compressed.  I could see 
his fists clenching and unclenching, and for just a moment I 
thought he was going to hit me, and I was shocked to realize 
that part of me actually wanted him to do it.  A knock down drag 
out with Charlie right at that moment would have felt pretty 
good in some ways, although another part of me knew even then 
that nothing good would come of it in the long run.

"You son of a bitch," he said softly.  "You goddamned 
cocksucker!"  He stopped for a moment, obviously fighting to 
keep his breathing under control.  "You know just exactly where 
I was last year, *Commander*.  I was on the ground in Bosnia, 
doing liaison with the UNEF.  And as you well know, I tried 
seven times to get compassionate leave - seven fucking times.  I 
even pushed one request all the way to COMSURFLANT.  But my 
requests were refused, as you also well know."  He took a deep 
breath, then let it out.  "And I stayed there, *Commander*, and 
I did my duty, and every time the goddamned phone rang I was 
sure it was you or Mom calling to tell me that Dana was gone.  
And there wasn't a fucking thing I could do about it."

We stood in silence for a moment, staring at each other.  
Charlie's body was starkly erect, in formal military posture, 
but his eyes burned with anger.  I tried to think of something 
to say, I tried to find some way to undo what I had just done, 
but there just wasn't anything.  I'd lost my temper and shot my 
wad, and I was going to have to pay the price.

Finally, Charlie said, "May I be excused, Commander?"  And after 
the briefest of hesitations I nodded slightly, and he stalked 
out of the room.

#          #          #

So that was my first mistake, and it was a doozy, no doubt about 
it.  A few minutes later I wandered back out to the living room.  
Charlie and Betty were nowhere to be seen, but Mikey and Sarah 
were still sprawled on the floor using their x-ray vision on the 
Christmas presents across the room, so I knew my brother and his 
wife hadn't left for good.  Mom and Tara both looked at me as I 
stepped into the room; they had to know something had happened 
between me and Charlie, but neither of them said anything, and 
after a moment they went back to playing with Matthew.

I just stood there by the doorway for a few minutes, trying to 
collect my thoughts but not really getting anywhere.  Mulder was 
still on his way, and he'd be there in less than half an hour, 
and I had no fucking clue how I was going to respond to this.  
Finally I went back over to the sofa and sat down next to Tara.  
She took my hand and squeezed it, and gave me one of her little 
smiles, the one that says she knows I'm having a tough time but 
she loves me and we'll get through it somehow.  Amazing what you 
can say with just a facial expression.  And I started to feel 
better, just holding her hand and looking at her smile.

After awhile Charlie and Betty came back and curled up together 
in the easy chair.  I could tell Charlie was still pretty angry, 
both by his body language and because he refused to look at me, 
but at least he'd calmed down to the point where he could stand 
to be in the same room with me.  I wondered for a moment how 
much of our conversation he'd told to Betty, and then I felt a 
sudden chill down my spine as I wondered if he'd said anything 
about it to Mom.  I snuck a glance at her, still sitting over on 
the other side of Tara, but she looked completely serene and 
absorbed in playing with Matthew, and I relaxed a bit as I 
concluded that Charlie hadn't spilled the beans to her about our 
fight.

Finally the doorbell chimed, and Mom jumped to her feet and went 
to answer it.  Sure enough; it was Dana and Mulder, and Mom was 
all over both of them, hugging them and passing out kisses on 
the cheek as if she were raising money for the USO.  Finally she 
drew them into the house and shut the door, then took Mulder's 
hand and led him over to Charlie and Betty's chair, and Charlie 
was already climbing to his feet and putting out his hand, a 
genuinely cheerful smile on his face.

Mom said, "Fox, I'd like you to meet my younger son, Charlie, 
and his wife Betty.  Charlie, Betty -- this is Fox Mulder, 
Dana's partner from work."

And then Charlie was shaking Mulder's hand and working that 
special charm he has.  In fact, I could see that he and Mulder 
were actually charming each other, one of those chemistry things 
where two people just hit it off immediately.  Sort of the 
opposite of how Mulder and I affect each other, now I come to 
think of it.  And I thought to myself that that would just be 
too fucking perfect if Charlie and Mulder turned out to be best 
buds.  It would really be all I'd need to make my day complete.

The introductions over, Mom turned to the rest of us and said, 
"Well, since our two lost little lambs are finally here, why 
don't we get started?"

I winced a little bit at her choice words, but after the 
argument with Charlie I'd promised myself I was going to be on 
my best behavior, and so I didn't say anything.  I just got up 
off the sofa and started to move over towards the Christmas 
tree, ready to perform my duty as eldest male and hand out the 
presents.

Then Mom pulled a whizzer on me.  I hadn't got two steps before 
she said, "Fox, since you're the guest, would you mind doing the 
honors by handing out the gifts?"

There was just a moment of awkward silence, as Mulder glanced at 
me and then back at Mom.  I could see that he was about to 
refuse; it was pretty obvious to anyone paying any attention at 
all where I'd been heading before my mother's words stopped me 
dead in my tracks.  But Mom could obviously read his intentions 
in his eyes, too, because she reached out and touched his elbow.  
"Please, Fox?"

What can anyone do in that situation?  Again, for just an 
instant, I almost felt sorry for him.  But only for an instant, 
and then once more the sympathy was gone, as Mulder said, "Sure, 
Maggie.  I'd be happy to."

And that's one piece of information I would just as soon not 
have: This son of a bitch knew my mother well enough to call her 
by her first name.  Thank you, Jesus; I really needed to know 
that.

Dana had been standing a little to one side up until this point; 
now she stepped forward and she and Mulder went over and sat 
down next to the tree, crosslegged, their knees not quite 
touching.  Charlie's munchkins moved up to within striking 
distance, Mulder glanced at Dana inquiringly, and I swear I 
could almost see the silent conversation taking place as they 
looked at each other.  And that's when I REALLY started to feel 
grim, because I suddenly realized that Dana was looking at 
Mulder just exactly the way that Tara looks at me.

I glanced at Charlie, and I could tell from the expression on 
his face that he was reading the situation the same way I was:  
These two were either involved with each other, or they were 
about to become involved.  Of course the one difference between 
us was that Charlie had a fond little smile on his face, while 
I'm sure that my expression was closer to one of shocked dismay.

Finally Dana spoke aloud, and briskly informed Mulder of the 
procedure to be followed:  Each person was to be given one gift 
at a time, and then those gifts would be opened sequentially, 
starting with the youngest and working up to the oldest.  A 
Scully family tradition that dates back as far as I can 
remember.

Mulder nodded to her and got to work, and I have to say this for 
him: He was efficient.  He had those presents parceled out 
faster than I probably could have managed it, and the next thing 
I knew the room was full of happy chatter and the floor was 
being progressively buried in wrapping paper.  The kids made out 
like bandits, of course, but the rest of us all got some pretty 
nice stuff, too -- and of course, just receiving a gift from 
someone you love, and knowing that person put some thought into 
picking something out for you, makes a big difference.

Finally there was just one gift left.  Mulder pulled it out from 
its position, way back under the tree, and took a quick look at 
the card.  And then his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Dana rocked forward onto her hands and knees and crawled around 
to look over his shoulder.  "What is it?" she asked.

Mulder started to smile, and he looked up at Mom.  I glanced at 
her just in time to see her return his smile, and she said, 
"It's for you, Fox.  I intended to have Dana take it back for 
you in the morning, but I'm so glad you're here to receive it in 
person.  It's always so much nicer that way."

Another thing I hadn't needed to know:  My mother buys Christmas 
presents for Fox Mulder.

Mulder sat there for a moment looking at the package, looking 
like he was trying to figure out what it was, and I have to 
admit that my own curiosity was running pretty high, as well.  
It looked like a book -- not a regular book, but one of those 
coffee table sized books that people buy in B. Dalton's and then 
don't read, and I tried to imagine what sort of a book my mother 
would buy for this guy.

He glanced up at Mom again, and had the grace to say, "But I 
don't have anything for you, Maggie."

"That's okay," she replied.  "I know you weren't expecting this.  
You can just get me two presents next year."  Next year.  Thanks 
a whole helluva lot, Mom.  Her smile broadened.  "Aren't you 
going to open it?"

Dana nudged his shoulder with hers, and said, "Go on, Mulder; 
open it.  I'm dying to see what it is."  And finally he gave in, 
and with a nervous smile on his face he carefully unwrapped the 
gift, and finally he held in his lap what was pretty obviously a 
photo album.  He looked at the cover for a moment, then opened 
it and looked down at the first page.

Dana was the first to react, rocking back into a kneeling 
position and letting her jaw drop open.  The expression on her 
face was indescribable -- a sort of mix of shock, embarrassment, 
and pleased surprise.  She looked like someone who'd just kissed 
a frog and had it turn into a handsome prince -- still not sure 
it had been such a good idea, but pleased with the result.

Meanwhile Mulder was staring down intently at the book on his 
lap, carefully examining each page before turning to the next.  
Finally he paused, and looked up at Mom and grinned.  
"Maggie...I love it."

"I'm so glad."  She was grinning too, looking like the Cheshire 
Cat.

"What is it, Mulder?  Come on; give."  That was Charlie, and he 
was already up out of his chair and crossing to kneel down next 
to Mulder.  He look one look at the open book on Mulder's lap 
and gave an amused snort, then looked up at his wife.  "Come 
over here, Betty; you've got to see this."

The next thing I knew the entire family, except for me and the 
rug rats, was gathered around Mulder, looking down at the photo 
album while he turned the pages.  The curiosity was killing me, 
but I was damned if I was going to get up and join in with the 
rest of them.  That would be just a little bit too much like I 
was accepting Mulder as a legitimate participant in today's 
celebration.

Well, if Mohammed won't go to the mountain... The next thing I 
heard was Charlie suggesting to Mulder that he relocate so that 
people wouldn't have to crowd around quite so close.  And a 
moment later Mulder was being guided across the room, Charlie on 
one side of him and Mom on the other, and being forced to sit 
down again on the sofa right where Mom had been sitting, and 
Dana was taking the spot Tara had been in, and the rest of them 
were gathering around behind the sofa so they could look down 
over his shoulder.  And finally I could see what all the 
commotion was about.

Pictures of Dana.  An entire photo album devoted to pictures of 
Dana.  Jesus, Mother; how could you?

The page he had open at that moment was labeled "1972", in Mom's 
simple but elegant handwriting.  The individual photos were 
labeled, too, but I didn't need to read the captions; I 
recognized most of them.

Dana seemed to have gotten over her initial embarrassment, and 
was describing for Mulder the circumstances surrounding each 
picture, and I suddenly noticed that she'd linked her arm 
through his when they sat back down, and was sort of leaning 
into him, just a little.

"This one was taken at my eighth birthday party," she was 
saying.  "That girl standing next to me is Joni Morgenstern; she 
was my best friend that year.  We used to do everything 
together.  I still hear from her occasionally, but it's hard to 
maintain a friendship when your father's in the Navy and you 
have to move every year or two."

This went on for quite awhile, with Mulder turning the pages and 
Dana narrating each photograph.  I actually sat there, listening 
to this, grinding my teeth together and reminding myself over 
and over that this was Christmas Day and that people were 
supposed to be nice to each other, and give each other 
thoughtful, meaningful gifts.  And boy was this present a doozy, 
and I had no fucking clue why it was making me so angry.

Okay, that's a lie, at least a little bit.  Deep down inside I 
knew just exactly why it was making me angry, but I wasn't quite 
ready to share that knowledge with myself yet.  No, that had to 
wait until I had a little privacy, and the perfect audience.

God help me.

And then we got to the really bad one.  They'd gotten up to 
1980, and Mom had had the remarkably poor judgment to include a 
picture of Dana in her prom dress.  Mulder had just turned to 
that page, and he kind of drew in his breath and leaned back in 
the sofa for a minute, just staring at that photograph.

I have to admit that it was a pretty good picture, and Mom had 
really pulled out all the stops, having had it blown up to an 
8x10 and gotten it matted before mounting it in that damned 
album.  Dana had let her hair grow out in high school, down past 
her shoulders, and for prom she'd had it done up in a really 
sophisticated and elaborate style, soft little ringlets 
everywhere, and the tresses falling in waves around her face and 
down onto her shoulders.  I remember that hairdo vividly, 
because when I saw it was the first time it really hit home to 
me that my baby sister had grown up into a woman.

It was pretty obvious what Mulder thought of that picture.  He 
just sat there, continuing to stare at it, and there was no 
denying the love and affection in his eyes.  Finally, he gently 
reached out and touched the picture, as if he were stroking her 
hair, and said, "Scully, it's beautiful."  Never mind that there 
were nine people in the room named "Scully"; we all knew who he 
was talking to.

And I'd finally had enough, and I jumped up off the couch and 
stormed out of the room.

You ever have one of those days when nothing goes right?  Well, 
this was one of those days for me.  I mean, if things had been 
going even a little well it would have been Tara who followed me 
out into the kitchen.  She'd have sat me down at the kitchen 
table, and talked to me, and I would have poured out my 
conflicted feelings to her, and after awhile things would have 
been enough better that I could go back into the living room and 
be civil.  And for just a moment, as I heard the footsteps 
approaching from behind as I leaned against the sink, I thought 
it was Tara.

"Bill?  Is something wrong?"  Mom's voice.  I closed my eyes.  I 
knew then that I was in deep, deep trouble.

I stood there for a pair of minutes, refusing to turn around and 
look at her, just staring down at the sink and trying to control 
my breathing.  I knew that if I tried to talk to my mother right 
then I'd wind up losing my temper and saying things I'd regret 
later.  And the worst part of it was that the demon part of me, 
the part that had wanted Charlie to take a swing at me earlier, 
was now whispering in my ear, urging me to really let her have 
it, and tell just exactly what I thought about her present to 
Mulder.

"Bill?" she said.  "Bill, I know there's something bothering 
you, and I think I know what it is.  You're upset because I 
invited Fox over this morning.  Aren't you."  It wasn't quite a 
question.

Fine, Mother.  If it has to be, it has to be.  I swung around on 
her, and snapped, "Jesus, Mother!  How could you?"

I think I shocked her.  I mean, everyone in the family knows I 
have a temper, and most of them have been subjected to it at one 
time or another, to my eternal shame.  But it must have been 
twenty years, at least, since the last time I spoke harshly to 
my mother.  At LEAST twenty years.  So I think I shocked her.  I 
know I shocked myself.

Unfortunately, my mouth wasn't done yet.  Using short, clipped 
tones, I went on, "What could you possibly have been thinking 
when you invited that sorry excuse for a man over to our house -
- to OUR HOUSE -- on Christmas Day?  Jesus, Mother!  Christmas 
is supposed to be for family, not for any bum off the street!  
And surely you remember what he did to us LAST Christmas!  Do 
you think I ENJOY being reminded of that?  Do you think TARA 
enjoys it?  Or even Dana?  Jesus, Mother; how could you?"

I know there must have been some logic in that speech somewhere, 
but thinking back on it now I'm having trouble identifying it.  
I'm not even going to bother to point out the all 
irrationalities, logical inconsistencies and hypocrisy in what I 
said; some things are just too humiliating, and it really isn't 
necessary, anyway; we all know what was really going on.

"And then there was that photo album," I went on.  "Just what 
the FUCK did you think you were doing?  Is Dana supposed to be 
some sort of, of pin-up girl, now?  Is that why Dad sent her to 
medical school, so that some punk could sit in OUR LIVING ROOM 
and ogle her like she was Miss December?  Was that why it was, 
Mother?  Was that why?"

Mom just stood there for a minute, staring at me, and now I 
could see that I'd not only shocked her, but I'd actually hurt 
her.  I was really batting a thousand -- first Charlie, now 
Mother.  Maybe if I worked on it a little more I could reduce 
Sarah and Mikey to tears, and then we'd all be one big unhappy 
family together.

Finally, Mom shook her head, and I saw the pain recede, just a 
little, and she reached out and tenderly laid her hand on my 
waist.  "Bill...." she started to say, and there was love in her 
voice.  Despite all the things I'd just thrown at her, there was 
still love in her voice, and naturally that just made me even 
more angry.

"Don't say it, Mother," I said coldly.  "Don't even try."  I 
pushed past her and walked over to the doorway back to the 
living room, the anger just building and building inside me.  I 
knew I had to get out of there, fast, or I'd say something 
really bad.  It was kind of a race to see whether I could make 
it out the door before I lost control, and as you might guess by 
now, I lost.  I got as far as putting my hand on the doorknob, 
and everything just fell apart.  I stopped, spun around again to 
face my mother, and said, "What would Dad think if he were here 
to see this?"  And then I turned again and stalked out of the 
room.

#          #          #

At this point the smart thing for me to have done would have 
been to leave.  Just grab my coat and leave.  Unfortunately the 
logistics for that were fairly complicated:  There was the 
question of Tara and Matthew, for one thing.  It would not have 
been easy to bundle them up, collect all our luggage and the 
miscellaneous junk you have to tote around with you to care for 
a one year old, and get it all out to the car.

I don't just mean it would have been physically difficult; I 
mean it would have been awkward.  Really, really awkward.  I 
would have had to make too many trips back into the house in 
order to get everything out to the car, and I almost certainly 
would have had to listen to Tara apologizing to my mother and 
everyone else for running out on them unexpectedly.  And then 
there would have been the problem of explaining to Tara just 
exactly why we were doing this, and I just couldn't face that; 
it would have been too humiliating.

And so I simply strode through the living room, not looking at 
anyone, and took the stairs two at time.  I stomped into the 
room Tara and I were staying in, slammed the door, and threw 
myself on the bed, face down, and tried to calm myself.

This was bad.  This was really, really bad.  Now I had both my 
brother and my mother angry at me, and with good, sound reason.  
And for all I knew they were down there right now, telling 
everyone else just exactly what I'd done and said, and somehow I 
was going to have to face those people.  I was going to have to 
look them in the eye, and chat politely with them and pretend to 
be a human being.

Down in my heart I knew that wasn't true; I knew that Charlie 
and Mother would not make a public spectacle out of me like 
that, no matter how much I might deserve it.  Oh, Charlie 
probably had told at least some of it to Betty, in private, but 
that was different; she was his wife, and husbands and wives 
have to share stuff with each other.  Even *I* know that.  But 
at the moment all I could think about was my mother and brother 
telling the rest of them just how much of an ass I'd been, and 
the bunch of them sitting down there having a good laugh at poor 
old Bill.

#          #          #

I was dragged out of this self-pitying reverie by a knock on the 
door.  I held my breath and waited, knowing it had to be Tara, 
and hoping that she'd have the good sense to go away.  But she 
didn't; she knocked again.

"Bill?"  I heard her voice, very soft, coming to me through the 
door.  "Bill?  Can I come in?"

I thought about that one for a minute.  A short while ago, if 
she'd come to me in the kitchen, I truly believe that she would 
have been able to make me feel better and make things, if not 
all right, at least tolerable.  Now I wasn't so sure.  I had 
well and truly shocked myself when I lashed out at Mom, and I 
didn't know if I could trust myself not to unload on Tara if she 
tried to get too close.  So I finally said, "I think it would be 
better if you left me alone for awhile."

"Are you sure?"

No, I wasn't absolutely sure, but I was sure enough.  I said, 
"Yeah.  Yeah.  I really think it would be better."

There was a moment of silence while she apparently thought it 
over.  Finally:  "Okay.  If you change your mind, please let me 
know.  I want to help.  I love you."

"I know."  I struggled with myself for just a moment, then 
added, "I love you, too.  I'll be down in a little while.  I 
just need some time alone."

"Okay."  And after another moment I heard her footsteps fading 
away.

#          #          #

It was the better part of an hour before I finally got up the 
nerve to go back downstairs.  Everyone seemed to be having a 
good time: Charlie and Betty were still curled up in the big 
easy chair, and Dana was down on the floor playing some sort of 
board game with Mikey and Sarah, while Mulder lay sprawled on 
the sofa, watching them and occasionally offering advice.  Mom 
and Tara weren't in the room; presumably they were out in the 
kitchen working on Christmas dinner.

I stood there at the foot of the stairs watching this quiet 
little domestic scene for a moment or two.  It looked very warm 
and homey; very comfortable.  Just a bunch of people lazing 
around the living room on Christmas Day, enjoying each other's 
company.  Being a family.  While I watched, Mulder said 
something to Dana, and she looked up from her game at him and 
smiled a big, happy smile.

I shook my head, trying to figure out why I'd been acting the 
way I had.  It just made no sense at all, and as I thought back 
I realized that Charlie had nailed the situation perfectly:  It 
was just for a few hours, and it was quite obviously making Dana 
happy.  And who was I to argue over that?  Lord knows my sister 
has had enough hardship in her life the past few years; doesn't 
she deserve a little happiness for a change?

I took a deep breath, and headed on over to join the group.

#          #          #

The rest of the morning and into the early afternoon actually 
seemed to go pretty well.  I played a few games with Mikey and 
Sarah, I chatted a bit with Dana and Charlie and Betty -- I even 
said a few pleasant words to Mulder.  Everyone seemed to be 
willing to forgive and forget, and I was trying, really trying, 
to make a clean breast of things.

I should have known that things weren't REALLY all better.  In 
fact, they were only destined to get worse.  And again, it was 
all going to be my fault.

The next incident came during Christmas dinner.  Actually, right 
BEFORE Christmas dinner, because we hadn't actually gotten to 
the eating part before I fucked up again.

After several hours of wonderful smells coming from the kitchen, 
Mom finally came out to the living room and announced that it 
was time to eat.  We all gathered around the big dining room 
table, and after a few moments of confusion Mom had us each 
seated where she wanted us: Herself at the head of the table, 
and me at the foot, with Tara on my right and Matthew's high 
chair situated strategically between us.  Charlie and Betty and 
their kids were on my left, and seated to Mom's left, in the 
chair of honor, was Fox Mulder, and right next to him was Dana.

Let me explain something.  When I say "chair of honor" I am not 
using a figure of speech.  When we were kids growing up there 
was a strict protocol at the dinner table:  Dad sat at the head, 
Mom at the foot, and whichever kid had been the best behaved 
during the day got to sit on Dad's left.  We called it the chair 
of honor, and believe me it was something we competed for.  And 
at Christmas dinner the importance of being the one chosen to 
sit in that chair was magnified a thousand fold.

I don't know if Betty is aware of that old custom, and I'm 
almost certain that Mulder is not, but Charlie and Dana 
certainly know about it, and I could see the two of them 
exchanging glances as Mom gave Mulder his seat assignment.  
Charlie wore a look of tender amusement as he glanced at Dana, 
and Dana...the only word that comes to mind to describe her 
expression is "smug".

Finally we were all seated, and Mom asked me to do the honors 
and pour the wine.  When everyone's glass was full -- well, 
Sarah and Mikey got grape juice, and Matthew had his usual 
safety cup -- Mom turned to Mulder, and said, "Fox?  Will you 
start us?"

For a moment I thought he wasn't going to get it, but Dana must 
have tipped him off to the Scully family tradition of each 
person at the table offering a toast before Christmas dinner, 
because he just picked up his glass and held it up, a small 
smile on his face.  "To iced tea," he said, and took a sip from 
his glass, and we all followed suit.

I'd be lying if I said I knew what his toast was about, but it 
obviously meant something to Dana, because her eyes got all soft 
and fuzzy looking.  And then it was her turn, and I could tell 
she was struggling not to turn and address her toast directly to 
Mulder as she raised her glass and said, "To extreme 
possibilities."

Okay, I didn't get the meaning behind that one, either, but what 
was perfectly clear was that Dana and Mulder were sitting there 
at the dining room table in my mother's house flirting with each 
other.  And everyone else at the table was also getting it, at 
least the adults, because they  all had that mushy, benevolent 
look that people get when they realize they're in the presence 
of young love.  It was just absolutely perfect for Christmas 
dinner, like something out of Currier and Ives or Frank Capra, 
and the whole scene was making that panicky feeling I mentioned 
earlier come zooming right back into the foreground.

And then Tara picked up HER glass, and held it up, and in warm, 
friendly tones she said, "To love, both old --" and she turned 
and looked directly at Dana and Mulder "-- and new."

And I got up from my chair and fled from the room.

#          #          #

Once again I found myself standing in the kitchen, leaning up 
against the sink, but this time I knew better than to hope that 
Tara - or anyone -- would come after me.  NO ONE was going to be 
able to help me this time; the feeling of panic mixed with anger 
was just too crushing and overwhelming, and anybody who dared 
come within reach was liable to get an earful.

I think I mentioned that this was not a good day for me, and 
just to confirm that, as I stood there trying to get my 
breathing back under control, I heard Tara's footsteps 
approaching from behind.  I turned around and opened my mouth, 
intending to warn her off, wanting to tell her to leave me 
alone, but she was already talking.

"Bill, what the hell is wrong with you today?"  I stood staring 
at her for a moment with my mouth open.  I'm sure it was a very 
comical sight, but I wasn't feeling very funny at the time.  
Tara went on, "You've been acting a like a perfect ass all day 
long.  Do you really hate Fox Mulder so much that you can't 
stand to be in the same room with him?  Do you have any idea how 
juvenile that is?"

I wanted to defend myself; I wanted to point out that I'd just 
spent the entire fucking afternoon sitting in the living room 
with that asshole, and that I'd even exchanged a few sentences 
with him, but I knew in my heart she was right.  No matter what 
kind of a facade I'd put on for a few hours, I really had no use 
for Mulder, and the idea of him actually being in a romantic 
relationship with my baby sister Dana just made me want to vomit 
-- and it wasn't helping matters any that the entire rest of the 
family, including Tara, seemed to think that it was a pretty 
nice idea for the two of them to be involved.

All of this flashed through my mind while my wife just stood 
there, glaring at me and apparently waiting for some sort of a 
response.  Finally, I just said, "Sorry."  Weak and pathetic; 
yeah, I know.  But it was the best I could do, and the 
alternative was to get into a yelling, screaming fight with the 
woman I love most in the world.

"I should think you would be," she snapped.  "Now do you think 
you can manage to go back in there and behave like an adult for 
the rest of the meal?  Or do we need to bundle up Matthew and 
leave?"

Leaving sounded really good to me at that point, and looking 
back on it, I know it would have been the best way out of the 
situation.  I know it would have meant I was running away from 
this problem instead of trying to solve it, but seeing as how I 
wound up doing a pretty shitty job of solving it, I think 
running might not have been that bad a thing.

But Tara was still standing there, glaring at me, and it was 
obvious from the anger blazing in her eyes that running away was 
not going to make my house a happy one, at least for the next 
little while.  And so I just nodded weakly and said, "I'll try."

#          #          #

And so I went back to the dining room and sat down, and we 
proceeded to have dinner.  Either the others had finished the 
round of toasts while I was in the kitchen, or they'd decided 
not to finish them at all; I never did find out which it was, 
and either alternative would be pretty bad.  But then the food 
was served, and things seemed to settle down again for awhile.

Of course, by this point everyone was watching me out of the 
corners of their eyes -- everyone except Dana and Mulder, that 
is, who seemed to be spending most of their time watching each 
other.  I couldn't really blame my family for wanting to keep an 
eye on me; my track record so far that day had not been good, 
and there had been that one period of several hours when I'd 
apparently fooled everyone into thinking I was okay, and then 
blown up again.  So, as I say, it was understandable that they 
were all a little wary, but that didn't make me feel any less 
like a bug under a microscope.

Finally dinner was over, and for a little while we all just sat 
around the table chatting with each other and feeling pleasantly 
bloated.  It was actually pretty nice, and once Tara even smiled 
at me, the comforting, reassuring smile she uses on me when I'm 
about to have to go to the dentist or a PTA meeting or 
something.  And I remembered some of the reasons why I love that 
woman so much, and I actually started to feel a little bit 
better.

And then I suddenly felt much, much worse, because I realized 
that there was one remaining Scully family tradition that we 
hadn't yet experienced.  The mistletoe.

Normally, the mistletoe is my favorite part of Christmas.  I 
mean, who wouldn't look forward to an opportunity to stand up in 
front of his family and give a warm kiss to the woman he loves?  
Isn't that what it's all about, really?

But this year it was going to be different.  This year I was 
going to have to stand there and watch Dana kiss that idiot with 
the big nose and the annoying grin, and I didn't think I was up 
to it.  In fact, I KNEW I wasn't up to it.  I desperately wanted 
to find a way out of this, but nothing was suggesting itself.  I 
was just trapped, and it was going to be awful, and it was all 
just too damned bad.

I had just reached this miserable conclusion when Charlie jumped 
up out of his chair, a broad smile on his face, and said, "Come 
on, folks; time for the big moment!"  Which is what Dad always 
used to say, and somehow having Charlie echo his words made me 
feel even worse.

Mom rose from her chair, her eyes glinting, and said, "Just give 
me a few minutes to stack the dishes and put away the leftovers; 
don't you DARE start without me!"

And so it was about twenty minutes later we were all in the 
living room, waiting for Mom.  I could see from his face that 
Mulder hadn't caught on to what was happening yet, but everyone 
else knew, and they were all looking eager and happy -- well, 
Dana was looking kind of shy, but she obviously wasn't 
displeased about what was about to happen.  She was now holding 
Mulder's hand as they sat on the sofa, and you would have had to 
have been blind or an idiot not to see the sparks flying between 
them.

Finally Mom arrived, and we all gathered around the Christmas 
tree, each of us holding hands with our respective loved one, 
with Mom standing next to the fireplace holding Matthew and 
looking at us all with nothing but joy and love in her eyes.  
The mistletoe was hanging in its usual place, in a corner next 
to the tree.  We don't believe in ambushes in the Scully family; 
no one ever walked under that mistletoe without knowing exactly 
what they were doing.  You get fewer nasty surprises that way -- 
and fewer disappointments.

For a moment we all just stood there, looking at each other.  
Mulder still looked puzzled; he had to have noticed that we had 
all paired off into couples, but he still apparently hadn't 
spotted the mistletoe.  I saw Charlie eying me, and I knew that 
he and Betty and Dana were waiting for me and Tara to get things 
rolling -- by family tradition, the oldest couple goes first -- 
and I shrugged my shoulders in resignation and led Tara into the 
corner, and I took her in my arms and kissed her.

It was actually a pretty good kiss, but that's no big surprise -
- Tara's always been a good kisser.  This time she seemed to 
throw a little extra into it, and after a few seconds all my 
troubles seemed to go away, and for a timeless moment there was 
nothing in the world except for me and Tara.  She had her arms 
wrapped around me, and she was softly stroking my back with her 
hands and moving her hips gently against me.  I don't know if 
I've mentioned this, but I really love this woman, and the way 
she kisses me, just completely open and giving, is one of the 
many, many reasons for that.

Finally our lips separated, and I became aware of Charlie and 
Betty and Dana whistling and clapping and stomping their feet.  
Tara gave me an affectionate smile that promised we could 
continue this thought later, when we went to bed, and after 
giving me one more squeeze she let go of me and slipped her arm 
through mine as we stepped back out of the way for my brother 
and his wife.

Charlie and Betty really put on a show for us.  I mean, Betty's 
always been aggressive, but this time she just grabbed Charlie's 
hand and literally dragged him under the mistletoe.  She wrapped 
her arms around him and grinned up at him, and said, "I've been 
waiting for this moment all day," before sweeping him into a dip 
and pressing her lips against his.

And Charlie, to his credit, went along with her agenda.  He 
stuck one leg out at an angle and started reflexively kicking it 
in the air.  His hands clutched frantically at his wife's 
shoulder's and in a matter of seconds the two of them had us all 
-- including me -- roaring with laughter, and then he and Betty 
started laughing through their kiss, and they wound up 
collapsing on the carpet and just howling for a minute.  
Finally, Betty scrambled to her feet, her eyes shining, and 
reached down and helped Charlie get up, and they stepped off to 
the side, leaning up against each other and trying to control 
their chuckling and catch their breath.

And now, finally, it was Dana and Mulder's turn.

By this time, obviously, Mulder knew what was about to happen.  
And if he's as smart as everyone else in this family seems to 
think he is, he must also have worked out that Dana had known 
way back this morning when Mom issued the invitation that this 
moment would come, and had passed the invite along anyway.  And 
if he still had any lingering doubts, the way she'd been acting 
towards him all day long and the fact that she was tightly 
clutching his hand and leading him over into that sacred corner 
must surely have laid those uncertainties to rest.

And then they were standing under the mistletoe, facing each 
other and still holding hands, and the look of awe and wonder on 
Mulder's face was surpassed only by the expression of open 
adoration on Dana's.  And I realized, as I stood there looking 
at them look at each other, that this was about to be their 
first kiss -- their very first one.  I knew I should have been 
moved by this realization, and I could tell from the silence 
that had suddenly fallen over the room that everyone else had 
also figured it out and that they WERE moved.  But I just 
couldn't find it in me; I just couldn't make myself feel good 
about this moment, and may God have mercy on me as a miserable 
sinner.

They continued standing there looking at each other for just 
another moment, and I could tell that neither one of them was 
seeing or hearing or feeling anything but each other.  Finally, 
slowly and tentatively, Dana took a step closer to Mulder, and 
she reached up with her free hand and lightly touched his cheek.  
He smiled, then, and slipped both arms around her and drew her 
in to him, and Dana rose up on her toes and closed her eyes.

Their lips met.

And I just couldn't stand to watch anymore, and I turned and 
stalked out of the room.

#          #          #

And so I here I sit in the kitchen, all alone.  No one came 
after me this time; I guess they've all learned their lessons.  
After awhile I heard talking and laughter in the living room, 
but no force on earth could have made me go back in there and 
join in the fun and frivolity.  Instead I just sat here at the 
kitchen table feeling sorry for myself and wishing that I was 
almost anywhere else.

It's quiet out in the living room now.  Looking up at the clock 
I see that it's nearly eleven, and I've been sitting out here by 
myself for nearly four hours.  I know I can't stay here all 
night, but I really can't think of anywhere to go.

Bed.  That's where I need to go.  I need to go to bed, and if I 
have any luck at all -- which is not at all obvious, the way 
things have gone today -- Tara will at least be willing to 
cuddle me, although I'm not kidding myself that the non-verbal 
offer she made under the mistletoe is still open.  Then maybe I 
can go to sleep, and maybe, just maybe, I'll feel better in the 
morning.

I get up from the table and walk out the door, passing through 
the dining room and into the living room.  I'm so absorbed in my 
own self-pity and self-abnegation that I'm halfway across the 
room before I notice that the TV is on.

Thinking that the kids must have left it on, I change course and 
step over to the set and turn it off.  Then I turn around and 
glance briefly at the room, and that's when I finally realize 
that I'm not alone.

Dana and Mulder are lying curled up on the sofa together, both 
fast asleep.  She's nestled in against him spoon fashion, and 
his arms are wrapped loosely around her waist.  As I watch she 
stirs slightly, and snuggles back against him just a little 
closer, and then they're both still again, just lying there and 
looking absolutely adorable.  Looking like they were made for 
each other.

Maybe they were.

With a sigh of resignation I step forward and pull the afghan 
off the back of the sofa.  Gently and carefully, not wanting to 
disturb them, I spread it out over their bodies, and tuck the 
edges in under the sofa cushions.  Then I step back and look 
down at them again for a minute.

Sitting out there in the kitchen and reviewing the day's events 
in my mind, I've actually managed to come to terms with some of 
this.  I mean, I still don't like this man, not even a little 
bit, but Charlie was right all along:  What really matters is 
that Dana is happy.  It's been such a long time since I've seen 
her happy I'd almost forgotten what it looks like.  And I am 
just a complete and utter asshole to have acted the way I did.

I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do to my family 
tomorrow, and a lot of apologizing, and I'd be lying if I said I 
was looking forward to it.  But it's got to be done; when you 
make a mess of things you just don't walk away from it.  Not in 
the Scully family.

I suppose that means I'll have to apologize to Dana and Mulder, 
as well, and that's something I'm really, REALLY not looking 
forward to.  But again, I have to do it.  Dad would expect it of 
me.  Hell, I expect it of myself.

I take one last look at my sister and her partner.  Even asleep, 
they seem to radiate love and affection for one another.  It's 
almost enough to make me wish I had a camera -- this would make 
a perfect concluding picture for that photo album Mom put 
together for Mulder.  But I'm just not a Hallmark kind of guy, 
as you may have noticed.  And after another moment I turn away 
and go on upstairs to bed.



Fini

--
Build a man a fire, and you keep him warm for a single night.  
Set a
man on fire, and you keep him warm for the rest of his life!
==========================
My fanfic wants to keep you warm:
http://www.avalon.net/~publius/MyStories.html
And here's the page of recs that light *my* fire:
http://www.avalon.net/~publius/MyRecs.html