Save the Days
by Mish
mish_rose@yahoo.com
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Beyond the Sea
Category: S, M/S UST, holiday fic
Archive: Gossamer, Spookys okay.  If you want
it, you can have it, just let me know where!
Disclaimer: Oh, please!  Do I have to say it
again?  The Far Side doesn't belong to me,
either, okay?  Or any other copyrighted entity
mentioned in this fic, so there!

Note: Yes, I am jumping into the Christmas fic
pool.  Although I doubt this compares in any way
favorably to the holiday stories I've enjoyed so
much this season.  I'm also flying without a
beta (figured I'd not bother them with this one,
a Christmas present, so to speak), so any errors
are mine and mine alone.

In loving memory of Father Fortier - December
10, 1999.  You are sorely missed this Christmas;
our family isn't the same without you.


Save the Days


There was entirely too much dust in this place. 
He was afraid to put up Christmas lights - you
never knew if the cobwebs wouldn't suddenly
ignite.  Well, it was an excuse, yes, but an
excuse that Scully's logical mind would
appreciate.  Christmas lights aside, the
hazards associated with the holiday season were
numerous; anybody with a modicum of intelligence
would agree.  Mistletoe was poisonous, hot
eggnog could easily render you speechless, and
many a Christmas were spent in emergency rooms
because fathers across the country just had to
make sure junior knew the right way to balance
on that new skateboard.

Yeah, Christmas was *definitely* an accident
waiting to happen.

Although, I suppose I should make some kind of
effort, Mulder thought.  Scully seemed to like
the holidays, though he'd never really had the
opportunity to ask her.  All he knew was that it
was not his favorite time of the year.  Too many
forced days off with nothing to do but sit at
home and watch 'It's a Wonderful Life'.  That
cheesy movie was on every night of the week;
where was 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas' when
you needed it?  Now *that* little half-hour
excursion into Who-ville was right up his alley. 
Samantha always said that he bore a striking
resemblance to the puke green leading man, right
down to the termites in his smile.

Of course, he'd replied that at least he didn't
idolize an idiot like Cindy-Lou Who.  Samantha
would just stick her tongue out and beam at the
happy ending.  He'd snort and storm out when the
Grinch's heart started to grow.  Then he'd peek
his head around the door one last time, just in
time to listen to her sing along with "Welcome
Christmas"....

Shrugging off the impending melancholy, he
ripped off the twenty-second and dropped it into
the wastebasket.

December twenty-third, his Far Side desk
calendar said.  He wasn't remotely interested in
the cartoon.  It was a tacky Secret Santa gift
he'd received last year in the office gift
exchange.  He hated it, he really did.  It was
appropriate, however; whoever had picked it out
seemed to know him well enough.  Hey - let's
give Spooky talking cows and subversive dogs. 
He could just hear the snickers behind his back
when he'd opened it.  But, like the good little
agent he was, he'd just smiled and bit his
tongue.

He could feel his mouth turn up into a smile. 
Good little agent?  Since when?

The spotted, googly-eyed alien peering into a
library book made his lips part into a toothy
grin.  "Probe Earthlings for Fun and Profit,"
the title read.  Twisted but certainly amusing,
he conceded.  At least today's comic didn't
include a cow.

"Smiling, Mulder?  Could it be you've finally
caught the spirit of the season?"

He glanced up to find Scully leaning in his
office door, one hand holding a small bag, the
other a huge poinsettia, her face a picture of
wry incredulity.

"If I've caught anything, Scully, it's the flu,"
he answered, the smile not fading.  In fact, it
became broader at her appearance.  She was
so incredibly cute in her tailored red suit and
floppy Santa hat.  Where the hell had she gotten
that?  Scully in a Santa hat.  Amazing.

In spite of his better judgement, he felt warmth
course through his veins.  The magic genie in
his mind miraculously divested Scully of her
jacket and skirt; she was instantly transformed
into the December centerfold of his dreams.

Stop it, he admonished himself.  She is your
partner, nothing more.  A partner that was
intelligent, capable and amazingly loyal.  It
didn't matter that she had eyes the color of the
Caribbean Sea and curves that his hands could
drive around all day.  Not to mention hair that
smelled like a summer breeze and lips that would
make him believe in God....

"Mulder!"

He pulled his mind from the snow-covered cabin
in the woods and looked up into Scully's face,
now inches from his own.

"What?"  He could feel his face flush with
embarrassment.  This was not wise, Spooky, the
magic genie said.  Scully was one smart cookie.

Scully laid cool fingers upon his brow.  "You
feel rather warm, Mulder.  I thought you were
kidding before, but are you sure you're not
coming down with something?"  Her eyes were
concerned, yet oblivious.

"Just a touch of the holiday blues, Scully," he
laughed, rising from his chair to put her beyond
arm's length.  "You know, poinsettias are
poisonous."  He nodded at the vivid red
monstrosity now sitting on her work table.

"They are not, Mulder.  That's a fallacy."  Her
voice was firm, yet warm.  "You should know
better.  I thought that little fact was stored
somewhere in that overstuffed file cabinet you
have for a brain."

Against his will, Mulder was drawn to her smile,
feeling it turn the kidney bean lump in his
chest into a ruby red cherry.  He quickly
squashed the fruit sprouting legume and draped
his voice with icicles.  "Guess I must have
overlooked that item in my search for the truth,
Scully."

Scully's smile wilted just a bit as she nodded
and turned to shut down her glowing laptop.

Great, Spooky, the genie chastised him.  It
isn't enough that you have to wallow in this
hole, but you have to dull the light in her eyes
with your sparkling wit.  Say something, stupid.

He walked to the other side of the desk and
picked up the almost empty calendar.  "Another
year almost gone.  Where does the time go?"

Scully tactfully followed his lead.  "Oblivion,
I guess, Mulder.  Although Einstein said -"

"Yes, I know all about Einstein," he interrupted
her.  "I was being facetious, Scully."  He
watched her eyebrow disappear into the heavens.

"And I was being diversionary, Mulder," she
replied softly.

Against his wishes, he felt the smile return. 
"I know."

He set the calendar down again and sat amidst a
pile of unfiled expense reports.  "So, Scully,
whatcha got in the bag?  Don't tell me you
participated in the office gift exchange this
year?"  That was one holiday tradition he'd
decided to forgo this year.  Somehow, he
couldn't stand the looks and murmurs anymore;
Scully had become the butt of their jokes as
well, which compounded his misery.  It wasn't
fair... but then, when was life fair?

"The poinsettia was my gift, Mulder.  From
Skinner, actually."

"Skinner?"  That floored him.

"Yep.  Seems the big guy participates in the
office tradition," she said, then lowered her
voice to a conspiratorial whisper.  "I think
Kimberly makes him do it.  He can't tell her no,
you know."

Mulder knew the feeling well.  "Yeah, but then
she has to do the shopping for him, *you* know."

"Of course," Scully agreed.  "Thank goodness,
too.  Can you imagine Skinner's idea of a
Christmas gift?"  She puffed up and crossed her
arms, her brow stiffening, her voice
unsuccessfully dropping into a false bass. 
"Here you go, Agent Scully.  Thought you could
use an extra clip for your gun this year.  Never
hurts to be prepared."

Mulder chuckled at her unimpressive imitation of
the boss.

Oops, the cherry lump miraculously changed into
a juicy crimson plum.

Stop it, stop it, stop it.  An orchard of fruity
internal organs was out of the question.  Nope,
can't have that.

Scully came around the desk and sat next to him. 
Her proximity made him tense; he couldn't move
away, not again.  She would really become
suspect if he skittered away twice in the span
of one minute.  Instead, he crossed his arms,
set his jaw, and waited out the torture.

"Mulder, I know we said we weren't going to
exchange gifts, but..." she began tentatively,
then cleared her throat and shoved the bag at
him.  "It's just a little something I thought
you could use."

Great.  Now he felt like a heel.

"Scully, I didn't get you anything...."

"It's okay, Mulder.  Believe me, it's no big
deal."  She raised her eyes to his, beckoning
him to accept the bag.

Mulder reached for the bag, the now enormous
candy-covered apple making his chest burn.  He
watched her sag in relief when he took the bag. 
His very own Santa Scully - what had he ever
done to deserve her?

"Okay, Scully," he murmured, digging into to the
bag with an enthusiasm he hadn't felt in years. 
"As long as it's not -"

A calendar.  A Far Side calendar, to be exact. 
A geeky fellow surrounded by rotund black and
white cows peered up at him from the box.

"You can't fool me, Mulder," Scully whispered,
leaning in to nudge his shoulder.  "I've heard
you chuckle in the mornings when you rip off
the previous day.  Especially if the cows are
being abducted by little green men.  You don't
know how I look forward to that each day."

"Grey, Scully," he replied huskily, unwilling to
look at her just yet.  He fingered the box like
it was made of the finest crystal, delicate and
oh, so fragile.

"Oh, excuse me," she replied, laughter coloring
her voice in shades of scarlet and emerald. 
"*Grey.*"  A pause, and then, "Mulder, if you
don't like it, I can take it back -"

Mulder's head snapped up.  "No!  No, Scully." 
He was dismayed at the slight tinge of hurt in
her eyes.  "You've given me the perfect gift."

The future.  He searched her eyes, silently
communicating his pleasure at her inadvertent
choice.  Nobody had ever given him the promise
of a future.  It was something more precious to
him than gold.

Damn.  It was hard to breathe with a heart the
size of a watermelon.

Scully cocked her head at Mulder's shining eyes,
putting a hand on his wrist.  "Just make sure
you let me see the days before you throw them
away, okay, Mulder?  I like the Far Side, too,
you know."

"I promise you, Scully, that I won't throw the
days away."  He meant every word, adamant that
the upcoming year would be different, at least
from his perspective.

Her eyes changed in that instant, awareness
dawning in their liquid depths.  He had to do
it; after all, it was Christmas.  A simple kiss
to celebrate the season.  That's all it would
be.

Scully's eyes shifted to the dingy ceiling
tiles, then back to his, her lashes falling low
over pink cheeks.  "Mulder..." she murmured,
"did you happen to hang some mistletoe around
here somewhere?"

He watched her tongue dart out to wet her bottom
lip.

"Nope, Scully," he murmured right back, his
traitorous body leaning into hers.  "Poisonous,
you know."

"Mmmm...."  Her blue eyes drifted shut as her
lips pursed over the hum of agreement, then
parted, her candy cane breath caressing his
chin.

His magic genie broke into the 'Hallelujah
Chorus'.  Shut up, you little shit, he growled
at the offensive elf.  I'm gonna do it....

"Yo - Spooky!"

Scully dropped her head; the moment was lost. 
Mulder straightened, his glare of distaste
piercing the inebriated Tom Colton swaying in
the doorway.

"Looks like you could use this!"  Colton waved a
sprig of mistletoe, his drink splashing little
puddles on the floor.

Scully slowly walked over to Colton, narrowly
avoiding his drunken lunge.  "Tom, I think
you've had enough."  Her voice was steely,
Mulder noticed with satisfaction, although the
man ogling her let it roll over him with a
nonchalant leer.

"Party's just getting started, Dana," he
slurred.  "Come back upstairs."

Mulder's ire grew by leaps and bounds, in direct
proportion to the dwindling opportunity. 
Scully, however, flashed a 'be patient' look at
him before turning back to Colton.  Mulder
fidgeted, itching to punch his pasty face.  At
Scully's look he was calmed slightly; he could
wait.  Scully was going nowhere.

"I'll be up shortly, Tom," she said, ushering
him out the door.

"'Kay," he replied.  "Don't forget."  He threw
the last words over his shoulder on his way to
the elevator.

"I won't."  Scully watched him stagger down the
hall before closing the door.  She leaned
against it with a sigh.  "I hate that man."  She
smiled sheepishly at her definitely non-holiday
sentiment.

Mulder grinned at the mumbled confession.  "Not
half as much as I do."  He looked at the box in
his hand.  "Thanks for the gift, Scully.  I'll
remember you next year, I promise."

"No, you won't, Mulder," she replied, moving to
the table she occupied and picking up her
briefcase.  She shuffled through the files,
gathering a few to take with her.  "It's okay,
though.  I know how busy you are with government
conspiracies and such."  Her smile was tender,
belying the bite of the words.  "Save the world,
Mulder.  Don't worry about me."

That was easier said than done.  Seems not a day
went by that his concern for her grew in little
increments that threatened to steer him from his
purpose.  He shrugged off the worry; Scully
wouldn't appreciate it or thank him for it.

"Leaving already?" he asked, starting forward to
help her with her coat.  By the time his legs
cooperated, she was brushing her hair out
from under the heavy collar.  He was always a
day late and a dollar short.  Resolution: be
more courteous to Scully.

"Yep.  Family things, you know."  She didn't
elaborate.  He suspected she didn't want to make
him sad by going on and on about holiday
tradition.  Made him... like her all the more.

Mulder followed her to the door, still clutching
the box.  "I won't see you until after New
Year's, Scully, so - Happy Holidays."  He
cradled the future in the palm of his hand,
holding it between them.  "Thanks again, Scully. 
Great gift."

Scully placed a gloved hand over his.  "Merry
Christmas, Mulder."  She hesitated, and Mulder
saw the indecision flare briefly in her eyes
before they darkened with resolve.

He closed his eyes and let her lips caress his
cheek, savoring the cool feel of her flesh upon
his.  It was over much too soon, though;
he hadn't had enough time yet... he needed time
to clear out a whole drawer in that overstuffed
filing cabinet and label it  S'.  He wanted to
be able to open up the feeling any time he
wanted over the ten days she would be gone.

Don't go, Scully, he wanted to say.  Don't leave
me.

But she was already moving toward the elevator. 
He couldn't let her just go without saying
something....

"Scully?"  Was that his voice?  Where had that
come from?

"Yes?"  She turned expectantly, her Santa hat
slightly askew.

"You're staying in D. C., aren't you?"  He
couldn't believe what he was about to do.

"Yes, the family is spending the holiday here
this year.  Why?"

Try as he might, he couldn't stop the words from
leaking from him.  "I just thought that maybe we
could catch a movie or something.  You know,
between Christmas and New Year's."  God, he
sounded like the worst loser.  He curled the
hand hidden in his pocket into a fist.  It was
too late to take it back now.

He'd just asked Scully on a date.

Half expecting her to laugh in his face, he
admired the shine of his shoes and waited for
her reply.  Her voice, when it penetrated the
round of self-cursing going on in his mind,
sounded awfully close.

"Call me next Thursday, Mulder," she purred. 
Well, it sounded like a purr, to him anyway, the
way it vibrated down his spine.

He raised his head at her gentle touch.

"I think 'The Nightmare Before Christmas' is
playing.  Sounds pretty good."  Her finger under
his chin slowly pushed his jaw shut.

Mulder's breath fanned the bangs that peeked out
from under her furry cap.  "I'll mark it on my
calendar, then.  The thirtieth."  He pulled
his hand from his pocket and righted the cap on
her head.  "Talk to you then, Scully.  Now get
going, the roads are getting icy."

Scully nodded and walked to the elevator.  The
doors opened at her touch, and she slowly
entered, pressing the button, her eyes never
leaving his.  Just as the doors started to
close, her lazy grin followed their slide, her
head tilting.

"Don't forget, Mulder.  Save the days...."  The
elevator doors muffled the rest of her reminder.

He didn't need to hear it, though.  He would
gladly save every day for her.

Mistletoe.  The word snapped him into action. 
He grabbed his coat, locked the office, and
waited impatiently for the elevator to return.

He had seven days to find mistletoe.  If he
couldn't, then New Year's Eve was right around
the corner.  Two chances to make his new
holiday wish come true.


**********


On the seventh day, he was restless.

December thirtieth.  Today's cartoon showed a
plump, sarcastic mutt eyeing his mistress while
UFO's full of similar pups hovered overhead.

" Well, they finally came,'" Mulder read aloud,
giving voice to Fido's words.  " But before I
go, let's see you roll over a couple of times.'"

He laughed until tears threatened.  God, he
*loved* subversive dogs.

Would next year's daytoons be just as funny? 
Even if they weren't, he'd make a point of at
least chuckling once or twice, for Scully's
benefit.

Today was the day.  He was fifteen minutes into
the workday and he wanted to call her already.

But he waited, sharpening his pencils, playing a
couple of rounds of solitaire on the computer,
and alphabetizing the videotapes in his bottom
drawer.  Maybe he could hold out until 9:00 a.
m.; she'd probably gotten into the habit of
sleeping in on her days off.

He agonized over the telephone call.  Should he
be cool and wait a few more hours?  He hadn't
spoken to Scully since last Thursday; surely
that was incentive enough to call right now? 
There had to be something on his desk he could
use as an excuse.

In the midst of his flurry through the piles on
his desk, his telephone rang.  His heart
tripped; maybe she was making the first move. 
He waited until the third ring had faded before
he picked it up.

"Mulder."  Don't smile, he said to himself.  She
can hear your smile over the phone.

"Agent Mulder?  This is Assistant Director
Skinner's office," the female voice coolly said. 
"Please hold for the Assistant Director."

He tamped down the disappointment.  "Sure."  So
what if it wasn't Scully?  She was waiting for
him to call, not the other way around.

Mulder poked his pencil at the barely-there
calendar sitting alongside the coffee cup
nurturing the pathetic, almost dead piece of
greenery.  Mistletoe was hard to find; he hadn't
realized how dangerous hunting it down could be,
either.  He'd told the farmer in rural Maryland
two nights ago that his life depended on it,
which was sort of true, actually.  His reborn
heart needed a jolt of electricity to keep it
beating, you know.

Farmer Brown had gestured for him to get down
out of that tree, waving his rifle at a
terrified Mulder, then proceeded to shoot down
the parasitic sprig right off of the limb. 
Didn't city boys know that was how it was done?

"Give your girlfriend a kiss for me, too,
slick," the old man had said.

He didn't... *care*... for Scully, he really
didn't.  Don't even think of that other word, he
told himself.  It's always gotten you into big
trouble.  Think Phoebe, think Diana.

He liked Scully a helluva lot, though.  Lusted
after her, for sure.  But he had the frightening
feeling that like and lust could quickly merge
into that other 'L' word, the one he swore he
would never use again.

His genie awakened from a week-long hibernation. 
A kiss between friends, the troublemaker piped
up sleepily.  Where's the harm in that?

"Agent Mulder?"  The brisk voice interrupted his
dangerous thoughts.

"Yes, sir?"  He sat upright in his chair.  Don't
give us a case, don't give us a case.

"Agent Mulder, I received a call from Agent
Scully this morning.  I've been asked to tell
you..."

She called Skinner?  She called Skinner, not
him?

"... last night."  Skinner's voice faded for a
second, then returned full force.  "Mulder, did
you hear what I said?"

Mulder realized he'd tuned out his boss, and
quickly apologized.  "Sir, I'm sorry, I have
someone in my office," he lied.  "What did you
say?"

Skinner's pained sigh drifted over the line.  "I
said that Agent Scully's father passed away last
night, Mulder."

Scully's father was dead?

"She asked me to tell you that she would be
taking a few extra days off, Mulder.  She'll be
back in on the fifth, not the third."

"Yes, sir."  Mulder was numb.

"Meanwhile, Mulder, there's been quite a bit of
noise coming from the North Carolina Attorney
General's office.  Seems Luther Lee Boggs has
asked to see you before he gets executed next
week."

Huh?  Mulder let the feeler go in one ear and
out the other.

"Think about it, Mulder, over the long weekend,
and get with me about it on Monday."

"Sure," Mulder replied absently, then slowly
dropped the receiver into its cradle.

Jesus, what a way to end a year.  He felt an
immediate rush of sympathy for Scully, and
quickly picked up the telephone.

"Scully."

"Hey, Scully, it's me."  He tried unsuccessfully
to keep the twinge of sadness out of the words.

"Mulder, I'm okay," she said.  "You didn't have
to call."

"I wanted to."  She'd obviously forgotten their
tentative date.  That was okay, it could wait. 
"Scully, I'm so sorry -"

"I'm fine, Mulder," she stated, her voice devoid
of emotion.  It scared him, but he let it slide. 
Her grief was understandable.  "I'll see you
next week, okay?"

Mulder felt that in the nine months he'd known
her, he'd come to gauge her moods pretty well. 
But he'd never seen her have to deal with loss,
and he was mildly taken aback by the total
command she seemed to possess.  It was
admirable, to say the least.  Many a time he'd
let his emotions rule his head and he'd paid the
price for his lack of control.  He could learn
something from Scully.

"Next week, Scully.  See you then."

He listened to her ring off, then grabbed the
first file he put his fingers on, knocking the
coffee cup of watery mistletoe over.

"Shit," he muttered, running to the sink to grab
a towel.  By the time he returned, the water had
managed to spread everywhere. Dismally, he
tossed the remains of the mistletoe into the
wastebasket, and proceeded to dry the files on
his desk as best he could.

Picking up one suspiciously large pile, he spied
the colorful gift bag emblazoned with little
portraits of the Grinch tying a tree limb on a
sagging Max the dog.  Funny, he hadn't noticed
that before.  Under it laid the 1994 calendar
she'd given him last week.  He smiled shortly
and took it out of the box, placing it next to
the old calendar on his desk.

1994 was going to be a great year, he thought. 
They'd have their date, and their kiss.  Scully
would be her old self again in no time, he
was sure of it.

Until then, he would save the days.


END


Sorry, folks.  I tried to end this as happily as
possible, but the Grinch in me just couldn't do
it.

Sometimes, I miss the sweet innocence of the
early days of Mulder and Scully's partnership,
and I hope this little piece managed to
capture some of their tentative dance.

Now, if you've managed to make it this far, I
recommend you quickly lighten up with Susanne
Barringer's wonderful "Can't Get No Santa-
faction".  Smile a while, find some mistletoe,
and give your significant other a big holiday
smooch.

Happy Holidays !
mish_rose@yahoo.com