Many thanks to Christina for all her help.

"It seems our lives have taken on
A different kind of twist
Now that you have given me the perfect gift
You have given me the gift"
 --Annie Lennox, "The Gift"
 

PERFECT GIFTS
by: Jennifer Maurer
 

December 24, 1997
FBI Headquarters
5:07 PM

Total desperation drove Fox Mulder to clean his office on Christmas Eve.  He wanted to forget it was Christmas.  He wanted to forget that he'd been working alone in this office for several weeks now.

Most of all, he wanted to forget that his partner, Dana Scully, was dying of cancer.  Too often lately he had paused in his work to think ahead to the future, to the long years without Scully.  The vision chilled him, and he did whatever he could to distract himself from it.

Mulder knew this would be her last Christmas.  And even though she never spoke in anything but hopeful terms about her illness, he knew she was aware of that also.

Please, just let her hang on through the holidays, Mulder thought.  Give us this one last special time.

He had promised Scully he would come and spend Christmas Eve with her.  She said she didn't want him to be alone.  He suspected she also just wanted to spend the holiday quietly; the commotion of the entire Scully clan would just be too much for her.  She wasn't looking very well, either, and he knew that was a point of pride with her.  Her family would stop by to see her, of course, but she had declined her mother's invitation for anything more than a brief visit.

All of this was just fine with him.  There was nowhere he'd rather be that night than spending time alone with Scully.  Now that she was unable to work anymore, their relationship had taken on a subtle change.  Mulder had wondered what would happen once Scully left the FBI.  To the surprise of them both, a partnership built on respect had evolved into a deeply satisfying companionship.

Mulder did his best to ignore the irony that they had finally become most comfortable with each other when time was running out.

He stuffed the last of his stray files into the drawer and slammed it shut with a clang.  He paused with his hands on his hips, surveying his work.  Files away, sunflower seed husks swept up, pictures and various other things sorted and piled neatly.

Scully would be proud of him.

That is, if she were ever coming back to work in this office again.

The reminder that she was not took the pleasure out of Mulder's work.  Cleaning up the mess had given him a sense of purpose for awhile; now he was once again alone with the knowledge that Scully was never coming back.  He had, he realized, been doing all this for her.  As if somehow tidying up their space could make her well again.

Still, he thought as he reached for his coat, she would be surprised to see it.  Maybe he would bring her by just to see the look on her face.

Checking his watch, he realized he'd better get going if he was going to get to Scully's on time.  She had wanted to make dinner for two of them, but in the end had been too exhausted by her latest round of treatments.  She had called him earlier in the afternoon, and quietly asked him if he wouldn't mind picking something up on his way over.  He agreed instantly, and they settled on Chinese.  Scully remarked sadly that it wasn't much of a Christmas Eve dinner, but Mulder assured her it would be fine.

He was just ready to walk out the door when the phone on his desk rang.  He stopped, and debated whether or not to answer it.  It was probably Scully, and when she couldn't reach him at the office, she'd know to try the cel phone.  Well, he decided, as long as I'm technically still here, I might as well pick up.

"Mulder."

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Mulder," came the silky, raspy voice.

"What the hell do you want?" Mulder spat out.

"Now, Mr. Mulder," the man exhaled, no doubt spewing a cloud of smoke, "Is that any way to greet someone who comes bearing gifts?"

"You have nothing I could possibly want," Mulder answered.  "Now if you'll excuse me, unlike you, I have someone to spend the holidays with."

"Ah, might that someone be Agent Scully?" the man inquired, "How convenient.  You see, my Christmas gift is for the both of you.  Perhaps you would be so kind as to deliver it to her for me."

"The only gift I would want to deliver to Scully is your lifeless body.  Unless that's what's in my stocking, I think I'll pass."

"On the contrary, Agent Mulder," the man said, his voice dropping to an oily whisper, "I have something I think you'll value a great deal more than that."

Mulder's heart dropped into his stomach.  How many nights had he dreamt of a phone call like this?  While his paranoid nature cautioned him that it wasn't going to be that easy, he knew there was no way he could pass up this chance, however remote it might be.

"What is it?" he asked, knowing what the answer would be.

"A cure for Agent Scully's cancer."
 

December 24, 1997
Dana Scully's apartment
5:23 PM

Scully shifted once again on the couch, trying in vain to find a comfortable position.  She had lost so much weight over the last few months that sitting upright was becoming more and more painful.  Still, she didn't want to doze off and be asleep when Mulder got here.

Her apartment was lit only by the glow of the lights on the tiny tree they'd decorated together a few days ago.  She spent more and more time in the dark these days; it was one of the few things still kind to her.  Shadows blurred the harsh edges and made reality fade.  Sometimes she could almost pretend that her life wasn't such a nightmare.  The dark made it easier to remember, and dream.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.  Scully sighed, reluctant to leave her warm nest on the couch.  Mulder had his own key, and her mother had already been over to visit with the rest of the family.  There was no one else she cared to see.  Closing her eyes, she curled up and waited for her unwelcome visitor to leave.

After several more raps on her door it became apparent that someone was determined to see her.  Slowly, Scully rose to her feet and piled the blankets aside.  She painfully made her way to the door, her tightly set lips the only outward sign that she was having difficulty.  Once at the door, she smoothed her thinning hair and squared her shoulders.  Her look of fierce determination offset somewhat the ravages cancer had perpetrated on her appearance; in the dim light she bore a remarkable resemblance to the Dana Scully she once had been.

Scully opened the door without hesitation; she never bothered to look to see who it was beforehand anymore.  Living with death so close at hand had instilled a sense of fatalism in her; she no longer cared much what happened to her, since her future had been determined for her by the cancer.  Her calm expression turned to stone at the sight of the elderly English gentleman standing before her.

"Good evening, Miss Scully," he said in his quiet, cultured voice, "How are you feeling this Christmas Eve?"

"I'm fine, thank you," she replied in a coldly sarcastic voice.

He looked her over slowly, his gaze searching and intense.  Her spine stiffened under his scrutiny and she reached up to close the door.  The gentleman held up a hand to stop her.  With her waning strength she knew it was no contest, so she merely glared at him instead.

"If you don't mind, Miss Scully, I'd like a moment of your time...before your Christmas guest arrives." he finished.  His tone never changed yet she understood the mild threat all the same.  He knew, somehow, that she was expecting Mulder.  The thought both frightened and reassured her.  He probably wouldn't try to hurt her, knowing that Mulder was on his way.  Then again, it wasn't his plans for *her* that she was worried about.

"You've taken everything from me," she said in a harsh, low voice.  "You'll have to kill me before I let you take Mulder, too."

The man's face wore a look of exaggerated surprise. Truth be told, he was pleased to find out that the affection Scully had for her partner went deeper than they'd previously suspected.  There was no doubt in his mind that the bond went both ways.  It would suit his purpose nicely.  So much more dignified than using force, although he was not above that when necessary.

"Miss Scully, you misunderstand my intentions," the man said.  "I haven't come to take anything away.  Why, it's Christmas---the season for *giving*."

Her eyes narrowed, knowing he was getting at something, but not quite sure what.

"You've given me enough already," she said, and tried again to close the door.  Again he stopped her.

"Really, this is more a gift for your partner, Agent Mulder," the man continued.  "I imagine it's been difficult for you to get around and do your shopping this Christmas, so I thought I'd see if I might be of some assistance."

Scully blinked back tears at his jab, feeling more helpless than ever.  The man noted the slump of her thin shoulders, and also how her eyes came back up to meet his gaze once again, the blue eyes sparkling with anger through her unshed tears.

Really, he thought, her determination was quite astonishing.

"I don't think you have anything that Mulder and I would want," she said coolly.

"On the contrary, Miss Scully," the man replied, "I have something that I think you both want very much, Mr. Mulder in particular.  I believe it's the reason he began work on your so-called X-Files in the first place."

Scully's heart leapt into her throat at the veiled reference.  After all their searching and suspicions, the truth had been closer than they'd imagined.

"You mean..." she faltered.  The man nodded once.

"Yes.  I have Agent Mulder's sister Samantha."
 

December 24, 1997
Lincoln Memorial
6:04 PM

Mulder forced himself to keep still and in the shadows, despite his almost overwhelming desire to pace.  This was either going to be the most important meeting of his life, or the cruelest hoax ever played on him.  Possibly both, he mused, his mind running over past betrayals and conspiracies.

Had they really given Scully cancer, caused her to suffer so all these months, only to provide a cure at the last minute?  It could be the ultimate mind game, Mulder thought.  Cancer doesn't really go away, just into remission...where it can reappear at any time, with a deadly, dazzling speed.  A far more effective ax to wield over his head than the shadowy memory of his sister's abduction, he thought.  Not an easy disappearance this time; he would have to watch Scully die.  Hell, he thought, I'm watching that now.  She has nothing to lose, and frankly, neither do I.  I can hear him out.  I can't afford not to.

The smell of the man's smoke announced his arrival before Mulder had even detected his presence, he was so lost in his thoughts.  With the quiet click of expensive shoes, the man stepped forward and faced Mulder across a block of light that shone coldly in between the marble pillars.

"I see you decided to accept my offer," the man said.

"I came here to listen," Mulder corrected him, "If I decided that what you're offering is legitimate, then we can talk about bargaining."

"Who said anything about bargains, Mr. Mulder?  Christmas presents don't come with strings attached."

Mulder stalked up to the man, ignoring the plumes of smoke that drifted into his face.

"Look, you bastard, let's just quit the games.  You claim to have a cure for Scully's cancer.  I'm not stupid enough to think that there's not going to be a price.  So let's just hear it."

The man smiled, seeming pleased at having gotten a rise out of Mulder.  He knew Mulder would see through him right away.  The agent had learned.

"All right, then.  As I said, I have a cure for Agent Scully's cancer.  It is not a traditional cure, but then again I'm sure you know that Agent Scully did not contract cancer through traditional means."  The man paused, watching the pained look that crossed Mulder's features.  "The cure is absolute; my associates do not deal in vague terms of remission.  She will be 100% cancer free, and carry no more risk than the average person."

Mulder clenched his fists at his sides, trying to control his trembling.  All the agony Scully had suffered over the past few months, trying to save herself, had been for nothing.  This man was acting like a god, sweeping her away to give her cancer, then descending from nowhere with a miracle cure.  Except, Mulder thought bitterly, gods don't usually make deals.

"What do you want?" Mulder asked.

The man's slow, poisonous smile chilled Mulder more than the winter wind blowing around him.

"You will give up the search for your sister Samantha and accept the fact that her fate is entirely out of your hands.  It always has been, actually, you just refused to believe that.  You may keep the X-Files open as you wish, but I will not tolerate any further interference in the Project."

"My sister is *not* a Project!" Mulder thundered.  "You've known all along what happened to her!"

"Yes, I have," the man answered calmly.  "And that knowledge will remain with me.  You will no longer search for her.  She is dead to you."

Mulder gasped at the man's words.

"Then...she's alive?"

"Yes, and as long as she is of value to the Project, she will remain so.  However, that is no longer any of your concern.  We will be watching you very carefully, Agent Mulder.  No matter how covert you may try to be, we will know if you break this promise.  We if detect the slightest hint of an investigation on your part, Agent Scully will suffer the consequences."

Mulder turned away, unable to bear the stealthy look of triumph on the man's face.  They had him right where they wanted him, and they knew it.  As long as he had been alone, he could search for Samantha and only worry about the repercussions to himself, something he never cared much about anyway.  But now, with Scully's life hanging in the balance...how could he say no?  Then again, how could he give up the search for his sister, the driving force behind his work for years?

"Think about it, Agent Mulder," the man continued.  "Your sister disappeared a long time ago.  You've had little or no real clues as to her fate.  And if on the off chance you did manage to locate her, who knows exactly what you'd find?  People change over the years, even under more...normal circumstances."

The man's voice sent another chill through Mulder; he knew his sister's life, if it could be called that, had been anything but normal since her disappearance.  He had seen enough to know that.

I might never find her at all, he thought, and I would have to continue the search without Scully.  I'm giving up a futile search for something real.  Scully is with me, she is what's important now.  Samantha is my past, as much as I've wanted to deny that.

"You have a deal," Mulder said in a low, harsh voice.

The man nodded.  "I thought you would make this choice, Agent Mulder.  As much as you loved your sister, I imagine that Agent Scully has come to mean a great deal more to you."

"You don't know anything about love, you bastard!" Mulder shouted, coming dangerously close to shooting him right where he stood.  "Enough of your mind games and give me what I need to cure Scully.  You have my word that I will give up my search for Samantha.  If that's not enough, then have your men follow me for the rest of my life.  But I swear to you, if this is a trick and Scully dies, no one will be able to stop me from coming after you."

The man's hand shook only a little as he reached slowly into his coat pocket.  He withdrew a slim metal case and opened it for Mulder to examine the contents.  Three syringes rested inside, filled with a brilliant purple substance, the color lightening with each successive syringe.  Mulder gazed at them in fascination.

"Let Agent Scully inject herself with the solution in these syringes, starting with the palest one and proceeding to the other two.  The injections must be taken exactly an hour apart each.  Her tumor will start shrinking with the first injection; after the last one it will be completely gone.  She may suffer a few side effects, nothing serious."

Mulder took the case from the man carefully, unable to tear his eyes from the contents.  He could only begin to imagine that they contained.  Some sort of alien material, perhaps.  As if he had sensed Mulder's racing thoughts, the man brought them to a halt by reaching over and snapping the case shut as it rested in Mulder's hands.

"One last precaution, Agent Mulder," the man said, lighting a fresh cigarette.  "Disturbing the contents of these syringes in any way, such as attempting to perform an analysis on them, will render them useless."

Mulder lifted his eyes to meet the man's gaze and for the first time there was curiosity.

"Why?" Mulder asked.  "Why give Scully cancer if you were going to take it away?"

"Checks and balances, Mr. Mulder," the man answered.  "Insurance, if you will.  But that is none of your concern.  Simply be happy with what you have; don't ask why you have received it."

With that, the man turned and walked away.  Mulder stared after him a moment.

"If this is a trick, I swear I'll kill you, you bastard!" Mulder yelled after him.

"Merry Christmas, Agent Mulder," drifted back to him over the man's shoulder as he vanished into the shadows.

December 24, 1997
Dana Scully's apartment
5:57 PM

Scully found it an odd situation, to say the least, that the man who had probably given her cancer was now helping her back to the couch.  He made sure she was seated comfortably before sitting back himself and awaiting her questions.

"You've known all along what happened to Mulder's sister?"

"Yes," the man said, "I've been with the Project from the very beginning.  Samantha Mulder has been one of our more interesting...subjects."

Scully felt her blood run cold at hearing a human being, not to mention a child, described in such a clinical matter.  True, she had spoken much the same way when performing autopsies, but this was something completely different.

"Why...?" she started to ask him, then stopped herself, realizing she probably didn't want to know the answer.

"Why Agent Mulder's sister and not him, you mean to ask?" the Englishman inquired.  "As I'm sure you know, Agent Mulder *was* our original choice to be recruited into the Project.  As to why his sister was chosen instead, who can say, after all these years?"

"You bastard," Scully whispered fiercely,  "Do you have her or not?"

"Yes, I have her," he replied bluntly, "And I might even be willing to return her..."

"What?" Scully exclaimed.  "You would bring Samantha Mulder back *now*, after you've ruined Mulder's life?  Is this some kind of game to you people?"

"I assure you, Miss Scully," the man said coldly, "The Project is not a game.  Samantha Mulder has been necessary to its survival, for reasons you can't begin to understand."

"And now she's no longer necessary," Scully guessed, "So you're offering her return...in exchange for what?"

The Englishman showed a thin, wintry smile.

"You've been paying attention, Miss Scully.  You have learned that nothing comes without its price...not even at Christmas."

"Just tell us what you want.  You know Mulder would do anything to find his sister."

"Ah, that's the tricky part, Miss Scully...you see, Mr. Mulder doesn't have to do anything at all.  It's *you* that will have to make the sacrifice."

"You've already taken *my* sister from me," Scully said bitterly, "And the cancer will kill me soon.  What more do you want?"

"Have you ever asked yourself why you lived so much longer than the other women with cancer?"

Scully frowned, unsure what point he was trying to make.

"I assumed it was because I was abducted later."

"That's part of it, yes, but not all.  Something else has allowed you to survive this long."

"What?" she asked wearily, wondering why it mattered.

"We don't know," he admitted simply.  "You have become an anomaly to the Project.  We have no explanation for your resistance to the cancer."

"And you want...no, you *need* to find out," she said slowly, realizing why he had come to her.

"As a case study, you are very valuable to us, Miss Scully.  So far all our efforts to create a vaccine for the cancer you were given have met with mixed results.  We hope that by studying you, we might be able to further ensure the success of the Project."

"You call abducting and killing innocent women a *success*?"  Scully said, her voice rising in horror.

"You see only one part of the picture," the man replied, "But the rest is none of your concern.  My time is growing short, so I will come to the point: what I am offering is simple.  Your disappearance in exchange for Samantha Mulder's reappearance.  You will come with me tonight and allow yourself to be studied as a medical subject.  You assume all risks of our experiments---but you also reap all the benefits, including a possible cure.  You will leave with no word to anyone."

"Will...will I come back?" Scully asked quietly, already afraid of what the answer would be.

"That is not for me to say."

Scully sat in silence for a moment, weighing the offer.  The Englishman waited patiently, confident of her answer.

What she said next did not surprise him.

"I want to see her.  Samantha.  Show me that she's alive."

The man nodded.

"I didn't think you would make the trade without proof.  Very well."

As he made the call and spoke quietly into his cel phone, Scully shivered.  He was already thinking of it in clinical terms: a trade.  One pawn for another.  With no thought for the lives that would be destroyed, this man had come to her and made the offer as casually as if he was seeking a commodity.  Which I suppose I am to them, she thought bitterly.  I'm certainly not much use to anyone else these days.

The thought of leaving everyone she loved was unbearable, especially in such an abrupt manner.  Then again, perhaps it was better than forcing them to watch her waste away.  There is no other hope for me, she realized bleakly.  I might die with them, but I will most certainly die without them.  And if by doing this I can give Mulder what he's always wanted, then my "death" won't be in vain.  Scully knew she had no assurance that the promise would be kept: they could easily keep her and take Samantha again.

So little time to make a decision that would affect so many people...

Scully stared in horror and fascination when Samantha Mulder was brought before her.  The long, dark hair and blue eyes were the same as in the picture that Mulder kept on his desk.  Scully stretched out a tentative hand and touched Samantha's arm.

"My God," she whispered, "What have you been doing to her, all these years?"

"That is not your concern, Miss Scully," the man said harshly, "Do we have a deal or not?"

Scully opened her mouth to reply, then hesitated.

"I want to make sure her blood is...normal."  she said.

The Englishman raised his eyebrows, surprised at the depth of Scully's caution.

"You want to be sure she is not a clone," he said.  "A wise idea, and not one I was expecting.  As you wish."

He pulled the pin from his tie and ran it down Samantha's forearm.  She jumped at the scratch, but remained silent.  Scully watched closely as tiny red beads of blood welled up from the wound.

"Are you satisfied?" he asked.

Scully studied Samantha for a moment more, then turned back to him.

"Is she all right?  I mean, will she know Mulder?"

"Her memories of the last twenty-odd years will be faulty, to say the least, but she will recognize her brother.  Now I must have your decision, Miss Scully.  Do we have a deal?"

December 24, 1997
outside Dana Scully's apartment building
6:41 PM

Mulder flew around the last corner on squealing tires.  It would be just his luck that he would get to Scully with a cure and find she had already succumbed to her cancer.  He couldn't bear it if something went wrong, this close to the end.  He had fulfilled the promise he'd made to himself: he had found a cure for her.  She would be skeptical, yes, but when she saw the results, she would believe.

In his haste, Mulder never noticed the two black cars pulling away from the building.  They were nondescript cars, meant to be inconspicuous, and they vanished into the snowy night as Mulder raced up the steps into the building.

Too anxious to wait for the elevator, he dashed up the stairs two at a time, fumbling his keys to Scully's apartment out of his pocket as he ran.  The sense of urgency was overwhelming.  Scully had suffered long enough; Mulder couldn't wait to deliver her from that pain.

He burst into the apartment and then froze, feeling uneasy in the dim light.  In the soft glow he could see that the couch was empty, the blankets neatly folded over the arm.  Scully had said she would wait up for him, but perhaps she'd decided to rest before his arrival.  Still clutching the case with the syringes, Mulder walked down the hall toward the strip of light coming out from under her bedroom door.

He pushed the door open and paused for a minute, looking at the huddled shape under the blankets.  Scully had wasted away to almost nothing during the course of her illness; she barely made any shape under the covers.  Mulder approached her quietly, not wanting to startle her out of sleep.

"Scully?"

The shape under the blankets stirred and sat up.

"Fox?"

Long dark hair spilled over Samantha Mulder's shoulders, and her blue eyes regarded him with a look of curiosity.

***
End

Okay, so it's not the most original plotline...still, I hope I had you biting your nails a little.