Title: December
Author: FoxLvDana
Written: September 1998
Rated: R, for language and stuff
Classification: Story, MSR/Angst
Spoilers: Christmas Carol/Emily
Disclaimer: Characters belong to FOX and 1013. The song "A Long December" is by Counting Crows and I stake no claims.

Summary: Mulder and Scully try their best to cope with the discovery of Emily.

Notes: Yep, this is songfic, kinda! I call it songfic lite...because I don't dwell too much on the song. Go with it.

A long December, and there's reason to beleive
Maybe this year will be better than the last

The sun is setting over the ocean as I make my way back to Bill Jr's. I allow myself the luxury of imagining a real home, with a real husband, and real children. For now, though, I can pretend. You see, I am Dana Scully... master of masquerade. Rarely does anyone, even --no especailly-- Mulder, get to see what lies behind. Today I feel my mask cracking. Blame it on the weather, blame it on Christmas. I know the real reason.

Blame it on the ghostly voice haunting me.

The voice of my sister. The voice I have not heard in years. Beckoning me, pulling me towards what, I don't know. At least not yet. I hope to find out, honestly. I arrived at the Simms' looking like I had seen a ghost. I can't imagine what they thought of me. I really wish Mulder was here.

No I don't...well maybe.

Mulder would know what to do. I, Dana Scully, being of not-so-sound mind at the moment, do not. My mother is worried. Bill is suspicous. I don't blame them. I often think that I am going crazy, today is no exception.

I can't remember the last thing that you said as you were leavin'
Now the days go by so fast

Scully is gone. Well, not *gone* per se, but she's not here. I am such a baby. She is in San Diego, spending the holidays with family. Family, that's such a foriegn word to me. I think I had family once, way back when. As of now, I have one person I consider family. Dana Scully. Plain and simple, except for the fact that neither word describes her. I wish she would call, I want to wish her a Merry Chrsitmas.

I should call her, but I'm a coward. The cowardly lion doesn't have anything on me.

She will call when she's ready, I tell myself. Until then, I plan on making myself comfy with a package of *Holiday Jingles* cookies, and an old rerun of *A Christmas Carol* blarring on the TV.

If you think that I can be forgiven....I wish you would

Tonight my world was turned on it's head. I guess I should fill you in on all the bloody details. It started a few days ago. I came upon lilttle Emily Simm. She's beautiful. Short, blond hair, the face of an angel. Her mother, Mrs Simm, was found dead in her bathtub. Not a pretty site, and I've seen it all. Emily looked upon me like a stranger, and in her I saw a ghost.


Melissa had been on the phone, or so I thought. She had told me; "She needs you," I believed her, to a certain extent. Emily was a sad little girl. And now she was without a mother. Not a very good thing at any age, definitely not a four. I keep thinking of Mulder. I wonder what he's up to. Is he missing me, the way I miss him? I think I know the answer to that.

Anyway, I started to tell you my story. You see, I had orginally thought Emily bore a striking resemblance to Melissa as a child. It's uncanny. After waving my FBI status around, I managed to get a blood test taken.

I had to know.

My mother and Bill thought I was nuts. Maybe I am, who knows. If being crazy means gaining truth, then slap me silly and call me crazy. The one person who would appreciate this warped way of thinking is the one person I need right now.

Damn! Why do you let me get sidetracked like that?

OK, now here comes the part that I haven't allowed myself to think about. Blood tests ran on Emily and Melissa showed similarities, but Melissa was not the girl's mother. She had a mother.

She has me, I am her mother.

And it's one more day up in the canyon
And it's one more night in Hollywood
If you think you might come to California...I think you should

Scully called me. I know I should be jumping around here like an idiot, but I'm not.

Instead I am packing, heading to San Diego. Scully brought my world down in the simple words she spoke. "Mulder, I need you," Maybe those were'nt her *exact* words, but that's what I heard. You know me, when Scully needs anything that I can provide, I'm all over it. So here I am, out the front door, heading to my partner's side.

I really wouldn't have it any other way.

When I arrive, I notice for the first time that Scully is sad. Not just sad, she is utterly depressed. This can't be good. I arrived at the hospital where she told me to go, and I am brought to my knees.

The smell of hospitals in winter
And the feeling that its all a lot of oysters, but no pearls
All at once you look across a crowded room
To see the way that light attaches to a girl

Mulder walks hesitantly into the room. He looks lost. I want to help him, but at the moment it feels as if someone has stolen our map. Mulder gravitates to Emily with such an ease, he would be a good father I think. When he leans down to make "Mr Potato Head" faces for her, I am breathless. Not that this is necessarily an attractive face, but the fact that he is doing it for me, and for my daughter, is enough to make me melt. I am now *very* glad that I called him. He seems almost afraid of the whole situation.

I don't blame him.

Drove up to Hillside Manor sometime after two a.m.
And talked a little while about the year

Today I told her. You know what I'm talking about.

The ovum.

The part of her that was taken to make Emily possible. The same thing that will make sure no more like her are possible. She was horrified. I feel like shit, but that's nothing new. I know, *I KNOW* I should have told her, but when? When she was on her deathbed, awaiting death? Hold her future close enough in front of her, and then whisk it away?

I couldn't. I don't know if she'll forgive me. I don't know if I deserve to be forgiven. I'm such a coward.

We know now that Emily is sick. Sick from the same disease that created her. Emily is a hybrid. Half of my pure Scully, and half of God knows what. She bleeds green, she knows nothing else.

This is what *they* created. They have taken the one thing from Scully that she can never have again. I really wish I could go and kill every one of those bastards.

I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass

Emily died today. No fanfare, she just went. Gently into the wind. All that's left is sand. Sand that is cool in my fingers as I sift through it and retrieve my cross. I had given Emily my cross a few days back. I symbol of faith. Mulder is forever at my side, comforting...yet not hovering. He knows me, he knows that I can't handle the family aspect of this. My mother and Bill Jr. keep watching over me as if they believe I will dissapear.

Mulder knows better.

He's seen me dissapear, he's seen me every way possible.

Well, almost every way.

I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower,
Makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her

"Mulder?" I inquire, reaching out for his hand.

"Hmm?" He replies, capturing my hand and holding it tightly. We are sprawled out on the beach, the ocean before us. I couldn't go back to Bill's, not with the new baby there. Sometimes, real family can be a drag. Mulder is the only one I can relate to at this moment.

"Thank you for coming, you didn't have to," I fumble with the words.

"Scully, you've got to be kidding. Where else would I be?" He says, his voice low and gentle. He rolls over onto his elbows and smiles. I love this man.

"Mulder, can I tell you something?" I ask, earning me another smile.

"Shoot," he teases, after checking me for my gun. What a cornball. I hope he will let me do this. After the week I've had, I *really* need to do tbis.

Clearing my throat, I walk over to the shoreline and grab a stick that's lying around. Tracing a large *I* in the wet sand, I am starteled when Mulder appers behind me.

He takes the stick and traces a lopsided heart next to the *I*. I think I traced the final *You* before I was carried off my feet into the water.

It's been so long since I've seen the ocean..I guess I should.

Scully has just confessed. I know, I make it sound like she's done something wrong. Maybe she has. Who would fall in love with me? I *am* me, and I don't even love myself. Guess that says a lot about my Scully. She is strong, she can reach into the muck that surrounds me and pull out the man she knows I can be.

When did this become about me? God, I can be such an idiot. I am standing here, in three feet of water, fully clothed.

With a smiling and equally as wet, Scully. She is laughing, and I am worried. We have been here barely four hours, and I *know* she is hiding herself from me.

Not that this, smiley, wet, version of Scully is bad.... But, we attended a funeral today.

Her daughter's funeral.

As a psychologist, I know that grief manifests itself in many ways. Maybe this is Scully's way. I wish my own stress relief methods were so effective.

"Mulder, what's wrong?" She asks me, smiling again. God, can I hold back *any* longer.

"Uh...nothing," I lie. COWARD.

"Mulder, are we going to stand here like two fools, or are you going to kiss me?" She asks, matter of factly.

No, I *can't* hold back any longer. Dammit!

I kneel down and gently lay Scully down onto the sand. She looks up at me and sighs. A tiny, satisfied, ScullySigh. I am lost...and don't even *think* about giving me the map this time. I lean down and brush my lips against hers. She tastes of the air, and the beach. Of heaven.

"I think I can die a happy man," I admit. Meaning every word.

And its been a long December, and there's reason to beleive
Maybe this year will be better than the last

Mulder and I kissed tonight. We kissed, and we kissed, and then after that...

We kissed again.

By the time we made it back to Bill's, the sun was coming up. We looked like hell. Our clothes were all damp and wrinkled. I tried to avoid my mother's eyes this morning, but she cornered me in my room.


I made it through unscathed, but I think I will think twice about rolling around on the beach in San Diego with my best friend again.

Mulde smiles at me and I turn to mush. What a sight. Yep, I think I will *definitely* think twice about it. Maybe three times.

As we are gaining altitude on our way back to DC, I am left with two things. The thought of how much I left behind, the things I lost.

And, as I feel Mulder nuzzle my neck....

I think of everything I have gained.


End note: Okay, now I KNOW that this was a strange story. I have not seen Emily or Xmas Carol since last December...so if some details are wrong...then sue me!

This was written from 9-4-98 at 11:21 pm until 9-5-98 1:23 am.


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