December 25, 1996

12:30 a.m.

Greenwich, Connecticut

Mulder sighed as he set his overnight bag in the guest room at his mother's house. He had left his place at a purposely late hour, knowing she would be in bed and asleep when he arrived. Together all day, once Christmas officially began, would be enough for him, as much as he hated feeling that way.

He unpacked his bag, putting his clothes into the empty dresser, took off his shoes and went to the bathroom with his toiletries bag. A quick shower and he was back, dressing in his pajamas and going downstairs in search of a drink and something to eat.

Turning on the living room light, he heard a muffled ringing sound and paused near the coat rack. Fumbling through his coat pockets, he took his phone out, hoping the sound had not woken his mother. Looking up the stairs, he answered it, walking quickly and quietly toward the kitchen.

"Mulder," he whispered, walking into the laundry room, turning on the light, and shutting the door.

"Hey, it's me," Scully replied. "Why are you whispering?"

"It's nearly one in the morning, Scully," he said quietly, sitting on the washing machine and smiling.

"Are you saying I woke you? You, Mulder?"

"No, not me. I didn't want to wake my mother, if possible."

"Your mother?"

"Yeah, I decided to come up to Greenwich for the day… or for Christmas, I mean."

"Oh… I think that's wonderful," she said softly and he nodded.

"Yeah, well..."

"She knew you were coming, right? You aren't planning to surprise her? With her stroke, Mulder-"

"No," he chuckled. "I'm not planning on jumping out and shouting surprise. She knew I was coming."

"That's good."

He smiled again and then he frowned.

"You're calling awfully late. Especially since you should be celebrating with your family." She hummed and he raised his eyebrows. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah… just… I'm fine."

"Mmhmm," he hummed and he heard her sigh.

"I've just been thinking," she said softly and he waited for her to continue, but she only sighed. "What are you and your mother doing tomorrow?"

"Uh… I think brunch or lunch. There's a restaurant she likes and she made a reservation, but I don't remember what time we're going. There's a play she's been wanting to see that she mentioned when I spoke to her a couple of weeks ago. I got tickets and we're going to a matinee and then we're having dinner."

"Wow, that's the whole day."

"I know."

"What's brought that on?"

He sighed and looked around the room, taking in the items within it: the laundry soap his mother used, the way she organized her cleaning supplies, a plaque on the wall that read Laundry Company ~ Wash, Dry, and Fold. He shook his head, not knowing the woman who hung up that plaque.

"Her stroke, my father, Roche, confusion about the past… I don't know," he whispered and he heard her breathing softly. "I feel I don't make enough of an effort to see her, and when I do, it's stressful and difficult."

"You had a difficult childhood, it's understandable," she said quietly and he dropped his head back, lightly hitting the cabinet above the washer and dryer.

They were quiet for a bit and he thought perhaps she had gone to sleep. But then she sighed heavily and he heard rustling sounds.

"Your brothers there?" he asked and he could now hear her chewing.

"Tomorrow morning. Tonight we had dinner with some of my mom's friends and people from church. A lot of older people who can't hold their liquor very well, progressively getting louder as it became later."

He chuckled as he sat up and slipped off the washing machine. Opening the door, listening but hearing nothing, he stepped out and walked to the refrigerator, opening it to see what he could grab to eat.

"You laugh," she said, sighing as she chewed again. "But you've probably never heard a large group of old drunk men loudly singing Sweet Caroline."

"Sweet Caroline?" he asked, taking out the mayonnaise and mustard, setting them on the counter. "Not Christmas carols?" Turkey, sliced tomatoes, lettuce, and bread were added to the counter.

"Well, I think they had to get warmed up because then it was many, many, carols. Have you ever had Jingle Bells shouted at you, as you're apparently the only sober one in the bunch?"

"Well, you've not spent any holidays with the Gunmen, especially Frohike. Although with him, it's more a problem with becoming handsy."

She snorted, laughing softly as he smiled and opened the bag of bread and placed it onto the plate he had taken out of the cupboard, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder.

"I'll have to remember and turn down any offer you extend to spend holidays around them."

"Probably for the best. But you know, it's actually Byers you would need to keep your eye on." Her laughter rang in his ear as he put mayonnaise and mustard on the bread and spread it with a knife, adding the turkey, tomatoes and lettuce.

"Byers? The straight-laced man whom I'm certain wears a suit to bed? That's the one I would need to watch?"

She chuckled again and he nodded, taking a bite of his sandwich as he stood at the counter. Swallowing and realizing she could not see him, he cleared his throat.

"Yeah. You know the ones who always stay buttoned up, those are the ones who go buck wild when given the chance."

"I can't see Byers going 'buck wild,' Mulder. What would that entail? A different type of knot in his tie? A brightly colored dress shirt?"

"Pinks, stripes, and paisleys," he said, taking a bite and hearing her laugh softly before taking a drink of something.

"Maybe it would be worth it then, just to see what he gets up to."

"Handsy Frohike, Scully," he reminded her and she laughed again.

"Yeah, perhaps not. Unless he's only handsy with you, which in that case, I would enjoy coming along to watch that happen."

He choked on his sandwich, coughing as she laughed. Taking a glass down from the cabinet, he poured some water from the pitcher in the refrigerator. Large gulps of it helped to clear his throat and he drew in a deep breath.

"Mmm," she breathed. "It's late and they will all be here early. I'm sure you're tired too after your drive. Or did you fly?"

"No, I drove out. The roads were fairly empty, everyone with sense was inside and out of the cold."

"Hmm," she hummed and then he heard her yawn. "I'm gonna head to bed. My nephew will be here soon, all excited and ready to rip open gifts. Best get some sleep."

He looked around at the lack of Christmas decorations, his mother not anticipating any small overly excited children, their eyes excitedly taking in all the beauty of Christmas.

"Yeah, I'm beat too. Goodnight, Scully. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too, Mulder. Enjoy the play and the time with your mother."

"I'll do my very best."

"Okay. Goodnight, Mulder."

"Night."

The line clicked off and he smiled as he moved the phone, pressing the end button and setting it onto the counter. He finished his sandwich and his water, placed his plate and glass into the sink, and put everything back into the refrigerator.

Turning off all the lights, he double checked that the front door was locked and went back upstairs.

He brushed his teeth, used the toilet, washed his hands and went to the bedroom. He took out his phone charger and plugged it and his phone in, pulled the blankets back and lay down.

Shaking his head and rubbing a hand across his mouth, he exhaled. Rolling over, he closed his eyes, exhaustion now hitting him in full force. Taking a deep breath, he fell into a peaceful sleep, the late night conversation with Scully calming him and easing his worries, even from hundreds of miles away.

He dreamed of Byers singing Christmas carols loudly, Frohike winking as he pinched Langly's ass, Scully laughing and telling him it was the best Christmas party she had ever been to, as mistletoe suddenly grew above them and he felt the soft touch of her lips on his own.