Title: The Best Christmas Ever
Author: irisheyes_77
Disclaimer: does anyone read these?
Summary: John and Monica investigate a man who claims to be Santa.
A/N: I wrote a very similar story years ago for Mulder and Scully. I just tweaked the idea for John and Monica. Feedback is love!
"I don't think I'll ever get used to the cold," Monica said as she shrugged out of her heavy wool coat, warming her hands with her cup of Starbucks. "Almost makes me miss New Orleans."
"Don't get used to bein' warm," her partner replied with a smirk.
Her face fell. "A case? But I just got here! Can't I sit and warm up before we leave?" She gave him a pleading look. "You have to fill me in anyway, so let's do it in here where it's warm and I can enjoy my coffee."
"I just got a call from the Fairfax County police," John said, leaning back in his chair. "They want us to come and interview a guy who got robbed at the mall."
Monica's brow furrowed. "And how is a guy getting robbed at the mall an X-File?"
"It's an X-File when the guy who got robbed is insistin' he's Santa Claus."
"You're kidding." Monica laughed. "Really? Have they made sure there was no head trauma?"
"I'm as serious as a heart attack here, Mon." John gave her a small smile. "If I didn't know better, I would think someone was yankin' our chains."
"Or maybe these cops don't want to deal with it two days before Christmas."
"Either way, I said we'd go check it out for 'em."
"You don't…believe it, right?" Monica gave him an incredulous look. "Clearly you don't believe in Santa, you think this is a joke, so why are we going to investigate?"
John smiled at her as he stood up and put his coat on. "I got some last minute shopping to do."
"Ah, there's the ulterior motive I was waiting for." Reluctantly she stood and grabbed her still-cold coat off the rack. Wordlessly, John took it from her and helped her with it, playfully wrapping her scarf around her neck. "If I have to go freeze my ass off so you can buy a gift for your mother, the least you can do is buy me lunch."
He gave her a smirk as he buttoned her coat. "They got a McDonald's."
She laughed, her face flushing slightly as he buttoned the last button of her coat and looked up, his cool blue eyes meeting her warm hazel ones. "Gee, thanks. And here I was thinking I rated at least TGI Friday's. You sure know how to treat a girl, John."
He smiled as he put his own coat on. "I'll even buy you a cookie."
"Better be careful, big spender," she replied with a hint of sarcasm as she opened the office door. "I might get used to this."
Christmas music filled the air as the agents fought their way past throngs of package-laden shoppers to the mall offices.
"Most wonderful time of the year my ass," John muttered as he nearly collided with a teenage girl.
"I'd like to remind you that this was your idea," Monica said, grabbing a hold of his sleeve so she didn't lose him in the crowd. She stopped short as she nearly collided with a shopper, causing John to walk right into her. His hands steadied himself on her hips, and she caught a whiff of his cologne which sent butterflies off in her stomach.
"You okay?" his voice was gravelly in her ear.
"Yeah." She turned to smile at him. "You?"
His mouth quirked into a smirk. "Never been better."
After what felt like ages, they finally made it through the crowd to the mall offices. A frazzled looking woman led them to a back room where they found an older gentleman sitting with an icepack on his head, reading an old issue of People magazine.
"Sir?" Monica said. The man looked up, and she smiled at him. "I'm Special Agent-"
"Monica Reyes," the man replied, cutting her off. "My, you grew up into a lovely young woman."
She and John exchanged glances.
"How…how did you know my name?"
The old man laughed heartily, his ample stomach shaking merrily. "Surely John here told you who I am." When John and Monica exchanged glances again, the old man sighed. "I get this a lot."
John sat down and took out his notebook and a pen. "Why don't we take your statement and go from there."
The older man turned towards John. "Now that is exactly what I expect from you, Johnny. Go ahead, ask your questions…the sooner I get out of here, the sooner I can get home."
John opened his pen. "Name?"
He gave John a look. "Oh come on now, John."
"You really expect me to put down 'Santa Claus' on a police report?" John replied. "You said these kids took your wallet…did they leave any ID?"
"Yes, I have ID, they only took the money." The man fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out a worn leather wallet, extracting a driver's license. He slid it across the table to John.
Monica leaned over John's shoulder to look at the card. 'Kris Kringle.' They exchanged another look, and Monica shrugged.
John jotted the name and address down in his notebook and handed the man back his ID. "Can you give me a description of the guys who took your stuff?"
At this, the man looked worried. "I can give you names, but I'd prefer to not have them charged."
"Names?" Monica asked. "You know these people?"
The man looked at her like she had grown a second head. "Sure I know them…I've only been delivering Christmas gifts to them since they were little."
John sighed. "You told the cops these guys took your money and a watch, is that correct?"
"Yes, that's right." The man sighed. "I just want the watch back, I don't want these kids prosecuted. Can you promise me that if I give you names that you won't let them be charged with anything?"
John hesitated. "I'll do what I can."
As John and the old man exchanged information, Monica thought. This man had known her name, known John's name. A theory began to form in her mind.
"Mr. Kringle?" she asked.
"Yes, my dear?" he replied, smiling at her. "You know, you grew out of that gawky stage quite well. I thought it was a little touch-and-go for awhile there, but you seem to have done quite well for yourself."
"Mr. Kringle, if you are Santa," Monica pressed, ignoring the look she was getting from her partner, "perhaps you could tell me what I asked for the year I was six."
The old man fell silent, thinking. "Six. I believe that was the year you asked for an Easy Bake Oven."
If he was right, her expression gave nothing away. "And how about when I was nine?"
"Nine…that was the year you asked for a pony. And to know who your birth parents were."
"Mr. Kringle, if you are Santa, why are you here instead of up in the North Pole getting ready for your big night?"
At this, the old man laughed. "Oh, I retired years ago…too old to be up all night anymore. My son took over the business. I just sit back and enjoy the season."
John sighed and shut his notebook. "Sir, we'll give this info to the local PD, see if we can't get your watch back."
"Thank you. It was an anniversary gift from the missus…she passed in April. I've kind of grown attached to it."
Monica smiled at him. "We'll do our best, sir."
They walked back out into the mall, fighting their way through the crowd and back to the car.
"What was all that about?" John asked, pulling out of the parking lot. "You really think this guy knew what you asked for when you were six?"
Monica gave him a look. "He was right."
"Mon, every little girl asks for a pony. Hell, my sister asked for one every year until she was 15."
"How did he know about wanting to know who my birth parents were?" she asked. "I'll give you the pony and the Easy Bake Oven, but the thing about my parents? That's not coincidence."
He looked at her. "Don't tell me you believe this guy is Santa."
"I don't."
John let out a breath. "Good."
"Let's just say I don't not believe. How else would he have been able to give you names and addresses of the guys who stole his watch?" She smiled at him. "Come on, John, even you have to admit that's a point in his favor."
"Let's just wait and see what the local PD come up with."
Monica fought a grin; he was so predictable. "Also, I believe I was promised lunch. And a cookie."
The corner of his mouth twitched up. "Day ain't over yet."
"So how's work?" Scully asked Monica as they sat in Scully's living room. Scully sat on the floor, wrapping Christmas presents, while William sat on Monica's lap and played with her FBI badge.
"We got this case today and frankly, I'm kind of shocked John took it." Monica blew raspberries against William's cheek, and he giggled.
"Why's that?"
"A man got robbed at Tyson's Corner mall today."
"So it's not an X-File."
"Oh no, it is…well, I think it is. John thinks I'm crazy." Monica smiled. "The man claims he's Santa Claus."
Scully gave a chuckle. "So's my uncle Frank when he gets drunk."
"No, but the thing is…I think he is."
Scully looked up from her wrapping, giving Monica a look that reminded her eerily of the look John had given her earlier. "You're not serious."
"Dana, I can't explain it…he knew things. He knew my name before I even introduced myself. Same with John."
Scully shrugged. "Maybe he heard someone on the phone mention your names."
"He knew I wanted an Easy Bake Oven when I was six."
"Every girl wants an Easy Bake Oven. That's not a very hard deduction to make."
"He knew…he knew that when I was nine, I asked to know who my birth parents were."
Scully stopped and looked up at her, brow furrowed. "Did you ever find out?"
"No. The adoption records were sealed. But he knew that's what I wanted. How do you explain it?"
Sitting back on her knees, Scully sighed. "I've seen a lot of unusual things, Monica, things that really don't have an explanation. But I'm pretty sure that this has an explanation that does not involve this man actually being Santa Claus."
"What would it take for you to believe that he is who he says he is?" Monica asked.
She gave Monica a sad smile. "The impossible."
John was hanging up the phone when she walked into the office the next morning. "Don't take your coat off, we're heading out."
"Where to?"
"Fairfax PD followed up on those names we gave them, got Mr. Kringle's watch back." John shrugged into his coat. "I said we'd take it back to him, save them a trip."
"So he was right about the names," Monica said, giving John a shit-eating grin.
"Oh no," John said with a laugh, "this does not mean you're right."
"I think it does," she replied in a sing-song voice.
"Lucky guesses."
She smirked. "You can't accept that I might be right."
"If you're right," he said, leaning in very close to her, "I will take back everything I ever said about your theories bein' out there."
"And you'll wash and detail my car for me," she countered.
He pondered this. "Okay."
"And you'll buy me dinner."
"I was plannin' on doin' that anyway."
She grinned. "Come on, let's go see what Santa's house looks like."
If they had been expecting some sort of magical workshop, they were sorely disappointed. The house was a simple Cape Cod house in a quiet neighborhood.
"Don't step in any reindeer crap," John cracked as they walked up to the front door.
"Funny." Monica rapped on the door, and a moment later Kris Kringle answered, smiling. "I was expecting you two. Come in."
He led them to a cozy living room and offered them a seat on the sofa.
"We got your watch back," John said, handing it out to him.
The old man was obviously delighted. "Thank you. You don't know what this means to me." He paused. "What about the boys?"
Monica smiled. "The PD says that if you don't want to press charges, they won't."
"Good." He sat down in an armchair and looked at them. "You think I'm crazy."
John laughed. "Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but yeah."
"You always were a skeptic, John, even as a child." He gave John a fond look. "Monica, however, never really stopped believing."
She shrugged. "It's nice to think there is someone out there who gives simply because it makes others happy."
The old man looked at her seriously. "Monica, what do you want for Christmas?"
She blushed. "Oh, no."
"Yes. You've been a good girl, come whisper in my ear what you want." He winked at her. "I have connections, you know."
She thought for a moment, then to John's surprise stood up and walked over to the old man, leaning over to whisper in his ear. She pulled back and looked at him, and he shook his head. "No, that's not a wish for you, that's for someone else. Try again." She paused, then whispered to him a second time. The man chuckled. "Again, that's not for you, that's for someone else." He gently patted her cheek. "You're such a generous girl. Tell you what, I'll surprise you. Deal?"
"Deal."
"Now you two, go home," the old man said, standing up. "You both have things to do. And I have to get ready. My son is picking me up on the way."
John and Monica walked towards the door, but as they reached the car Monica turned around and walked back to where the old man stood in the doorway.
"I have a question," she said. "If you can grant any wish, any wish at all…" she stopped and sighed.
"You want to ask why John had to lose his son." The old man sighed. "That's not my decision, Monica. You know that. I can't bring his son back. And even if I could, would you still want it, knowing it would change both of your futures?" He laid a gentle hand on her arm. "I grant wishes. Miracles…those are someone else's department."
Monica nodded sadly.
"Go, enjoy your holiday. And who knows…Santa may bring you something better than you imagined."
Once they were in the car, John turned to her. "So, what did ya ask for?"
She gave him a small smile. "You'll just have to wait and see."
A noise downstairs woke John from his fitful slumber. Glancing at the clock-2 am!-he grabbed his gun and moved noiselessly through the hallway to the stairs. He crept slowly down them, hoping that he had just been hearing things, but when he reached the living room he knew he hadn't been.
His formerly undecorated living room was now awash in white twinkle lights, a large fir tree in the corner decorated with shiny red and green ornaments, a toy train running around the bottom.
"What the-" he walked into the kitchen, only to find it exactly as he had left it. It was the same with the other rooms in the house. Only the living room had been touched. Nothing was missing-hell, almost nothing had even been moved. Who on earth would have done this?
"Monica." With a sigh, he went back upstairs and got himself dressed. If he was quick enough, maybe he could catch her.
The loud knocking on the door startled Monica awake. Knowing it was one of two people at this time of the morning, she shrugged into her bathrobe and answered the door without even looking.
"How did you do it?" John asked.
"Do what?" she replied with a yawn, stepping aside to let him in.
"My house."
"What about it?"
"The tree, the lights…how did you do it?"
Monica gave him a look and gestured to her attire. "John, do I look like I've been anywhere this evening?"
He looked at her-bathrobe, fuzzy slippers, slightly tangled hair. "If it wasn't you, then…" A look of realization crossed his face, and he grabbed her and propelled her towards the bedroom. "Get dressed."
"What?"
"If this…if this is what I think it is, then you gotta see it."
She gave him a puzzled look before heading to get dressed.
Half an hour later they walked into John's house. Monica followed him to the living room, and her face lit up when she saw the decorations. "It's beautiful, John."
"Yeah…but I didn't do it."
For a moment they stood in the doorway, scrutinizing the scene before them. Something caught Monica's eye. "There, on the tree."
Two envelopes sat nestled in the boughs of the tree, one for each of them. John walked over and picked them up, handing one to Monica. "Ladies first."
Not quite believing what was happening, Monica opened her note and began to read. "'Dear Monica, your generous spirit is what makes this job so rewarding. Consider your wishes granted. Merry Christmas, Kris Kringle. PS-look up.'" She and John looked up to see a sprig of mistletoe hanging from a silver thread. Monica felt herself blush as she and John looked at each other for a moment. "Your turn."
John opened his note, reading silently to himself. 'She wished for your happiness. Everything you need to be happy is standing right in front of you, all you have to do is believe. Oh, and the mistletoe is her wish. Go, be happy.'
"What's it say?" Monica asked, attempting to pull the note from his fingers. Instead he tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans and stepped closer to her, putting one hand on her hip.
"Someone's standin' under the mistletoe," he said. "And if I remember correctly, that means I owe you one of these." Taking a deep breath, he leaned in and kissed her.
Monica gave a little sigh as she opened her mouth to him, her note falling from her hands as she tangled her hands in his hair. The kiss was slow and sweet and everything a first kiss should be, and although she never wanted it to end, she was getting lightheaded. Pulling back, she looked up into his eyes and gave him an impish grin. "Looks like someone is detailing my car for me."
John laughed. "You're never gonna let me live this down, are ya?"
"Nope, never." She gazed up at him with big brown eyes. "Say it."
He chuckled. "Looks like you might have been right."
"Looks like? Might?" She tugged playfully on his ear. "How about definitely was right."
"I dunno about that, Mon. But I do know one thing," he said, bending down and sweeping her up into his arms.
"What's that?"
"I shoulda done this earlier." He made his way into the bedroom and lay her down gently on his bed.
She smiled up at him before grabbing his belt loops and pulling him down on top of her. "Merry Christmas, John," she whispered against his mouth before she kissed him again.
The muted ringing of a cell phone started Monica out of a deep slumber, and it took her a moment to collect her bearings. John's arm was a dead weight on her stomach, and she smiled at her memories of the previous evening as she slid from his embrace to fumble around in the heap of discarded clothes for her phone.
"Reyes," she said, stifling a yawn.
"It's Dana, sorry to wake you on Christmas."
Monica glanced at the clock; it was past ten. "No, it's fine. Everything okay?"
"I…I'm calling to ask you a question."
"Shoot," she replied, crawling back into the bed beside John.
"I got a mysterious note late last night."
"Okay." John's arm had found its way back to her waist, and he pulled her close, nuzzling her neck.
"It mentioned you."
Suddenly, Monica was very alert. "What did it say?"
"It said that you wished Mulder could be here for William's first Christmas." Scully's voice was thick with emotion.
Monica's eyes widened as she sat up. "And?"
"And…he showed up at my mom's this morning." Scully sniffled. "He's leaving tonight, but he said he couldn't miss this."
Monica smiled. "Guess you got the impossible."
"Did you…wish for this?"
"Yeah…the old man who said he was Santa, he asked me what I wanted for Christmas."
"And you wanted Mulder to be here." Monica heard the soft chuff of Scully chuckling. "You could have anything, and you chose this." She paused. "I don't know how to thank you, Monica."
"Don't thank me, all I did was take a chance and believe."
"I hope you got what you wanted, too."
Monica grinned and glanced down at John, who was now staring at her quizzically. "Oh, I did. Merry Christmas, Dana." She hung up and tossed the phone back onto the floor before settling back into John's arms.
"What was that all about?" he asked, pulling her close.
"Mulder's home for Christmas."
"What? But…how?"
Monica smiled. "That's what I asked Santa for."
Propping himself up on one elbow, he looked down at her. "You wished for Mulder to come back for Dana, and you wished for me to be happy." Laughing, he leaned down and kissed her soundly. "You're the only person I know who would wish for someone else's happiness on Christmas."
"To be fair, I had a feeling that I would benefit from your being happy," she replied. "So it wasn't completely altruistic. But I did get what I had hoped I would get, even though I didn't ask for it."
"Which was?"
She bit her lip, a flush sweeping her face. "You."
John looked at her intently, studying her silently for a moment before he reached over and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. "I love you."
With a huge grin, Monica pulled him down onto her, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. "I think this just might be the best Christmas ever," she said with a contented sigh as their bodies melded together once again.