Title:Bah Humbug! pt 2
Author: Jen the Genie
For disclaimers/notes see pt 1
Apartment 42
Hegal Place
Dec 24th - 10.30pm approx.
The static swirl that danced across the face of the tv cast a monochomatic glow around the apartment. Mulder was stretched out on the couch, his mind suitably numbed with a couple of beers he'd found in the fridge and half a bottle of a more than reasonable Tequila - an early Christmas present from the indomitable Frohike. The accompanying tag had read 'Drink-me' in large purple letters. Well drink he certainly had, hoping it would shrink him Alice-like to the size he felt mentally and then he could find the door that would allow him to escape from this self induced seasonal blue funk. It didn't and he couldn't, but it did allow him to fall asleep.
Was it the heavy knocking on his apartment door that stirred his alcohol induced slumber?...or the fact his sweatshirt had ridden up to expose his bare back to the cold night air? Whatever the reason, Mulder became aware of a presence in the room that his dulled brain couldn't immediately identify but sent shivers up his spine none the less. A waft of adrenaline coursed through him as he struggled to pull his body from it's prone position, feeling rather than seeing the figure lounging comfortably in the armchair opposite.
"Take your time Comrade." The Russian inflection in the final word focussed Mulder's fuzzy brain quicker than a bucket of iced water.
"Alex Krycek!" He spat, groping wildly for his gun. *D'oh!* A large figurative hand slapped the inside of his temple as he quickly recalled leaving it on the nightstand. "What the hell do you want?"
"Relax Mulder," Krycek gave a lazy grin "I'm not here to kill you....see, no gun!" As his arch nemesis peeled back the edges of his jacket, Mulder felt the hair on the back of his neck stiffen. He could swear that the figure opposite him was opaque to the point of being see-through.
"No Mulder, this is more a business call. I thought I'd drop by, have a chat, offer you some advice...." Alex began to float gently to his feet.
Somewhere in the back of his mind Mulder heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like his jaw hitting the floor. The figure of Alex Krycek came to rest a good three inches above the laquered wood, a pile of chains neatly coiled at his feet.
"Social call?...Social call?" he heard himself repeat dumbly
Alex rolled his eyes, "Oh jeez!...Hello? Ratboy calling Mulder!" An opalescent hand reached across as if to knock on the dumbfounded Agents head, only to pass straight through it. What felt like a shard of ice surfed down Mulders spine causing him to shudder.
"You're dead...you're a ghost!" Mulder spluttered.
"Could be!" Krycek shrugged
"No. you're not dead, I'm dead drunk." Mulders eyes flicked questionably between the half emptied bottle of Tequila and Krycek. "You're not really dead...are you?"
Krycek folded his arms, his fingers drumming out silent impatience on an ethereally glowing sleeve.
"Yes, alright I'm dead. That make you feel any better?"
With chains clanking dimly as they trailed behind, Krycek resumed gliding back and forth above the floor allowing this piece of information to sink in. He knew it had hit the spot when Mulders face broke into a broad grin.
"We'll wadday'know, " Mulder slurred "It must be Christmas! Who do I have to thank for this gift?"
"Irrelevant under the circumstances. As weird as it may sound Mulder, I may have information that could change your life, not for the first time I might add...you interested?"
"Given your track record I sincerely doubt that!" Mulder muttered as he considered his options for a minute then shrugged "Sure, why not."
"Good 'cause I'm nearly outta time here." Krycek became serious "Y'know Mulder for a smart guy you can be supremely dense at times."
"Unlike the dead guy who's currently floating above my floor." Mulder noted sarcastically "Enlighten me by all means Krycek but don't patronise me. I think I'm beginning to figure this out."
"It's nice to see that expensive Oxford education isn't going rusty in the basement." Krycek was equally sarcastic.
"You're an alcohol induced, Dickensian inspired manifestation of my latest guilt trip....What I can't quite figure is why my brain chose you to represent Jacob Marley?"
"Alcohol induced? Dickensian inspired?" Krycek shook his head "Look Mulder, as it stands I couldn't give a rat's ass if you thought I was a marijuana induced manifestation of Bob Marley, do you want to know?"
"What I want to know is why You?....Why you, why me, why now?"
"Does it really matter?" Krycek stopped gliding and lean't forward. " C'mon Mulder, get with the programme here will'ya! All I need is a simple yes or no?"
"I s'pose...but tell me. If this is my personal Christmas Carol nightmare, just what kind of enlightenment am I supposed to reach?" Mulder was bemused.
"Beats the hell outta me?" Krycek shrugged "Still," he straightened his jacket "As you're aware of Dickens then you'll know the drill, so I'll keep this brief...between now and Christmas morning you'll get the customary three visits, past, present, future yadda yadda yadda! But I warn you Mulder, they've updated the procedure since Marley retired so your spirits may not be quite what you were expecting."
"Whatever!" Mulder reached for the Tequila again "Aren't you supposed to lecture me about the perils of my lifestyle or something?"
"Hey, I'm just the messenger." Alex laughed over his shoulder as he floated to the door, "Besides, you wouldn't believe me anyhow." his figure began to fade into the wood. "I'm not party to what the *three* have in store for you but you'd better take heed Mulder. If you don't could be joining me sooner than you think. ...see you on the flip side, the flip side, the flip side........."
Mulders eyes lurched from the door to the bottle in his hand and back again. Jeez, this stuff is strong! ..Strong but good... The room began to spin as he collapsed back into the couch. Spirit of Christmas past eh?...Well bring it on! 'Ol Spooky is just dying to meet you!
********************************************************
"Fox?" A warm feminine voice purred in his ear "Oh Foxy foxy fox!" A warm flush of breath slid up his neck causing him to stir, his free arm wrapping instinctively around the warm curves of the body draped over his.
"Fox Mulder, are you going to wake up or am I going to kick your backside!" As the clipped British pronunciation weedled it's way into his brain like a stilleto blade, Mulder came too with a start.
"Phoebe? Phoebe Green?" Something akin to an iceball landed in his stomach. Cautiously he opened first one eye, then the other. It was Phoebe alright. The cascade of brunette curls, the sultry come-to-bed eyes, a cleavage like the Grand Canyon at Sunset....She was just how he remembered her from University. Stop: Rewind: Replay: University?
Mulder was on his feet before you could say New York Knicks. The young woman looked stunned as she thrown unceremoniously to the floor.
"Well I must say, is that any way to treat an old friend?" Phoebe's likeness reached up with an elegantly manicured hand. "Are you going to stand there with your mouth hanging open like a moron or would you care to help me up!"
"Are you a ghost?" Mulder grasped the offered hand "I mean are you dead?"
"Good God no!" Phoebes laugh tinkled around the apartment like rusty sleigh bells as she climbed to her feet. "I'm your representation of Christmas past." she gave a quick twirl "Like it?"
"Ummm...well..." his stomach clenched as a fountain of memories sprang forth "It's certainly different...ummm...err, unexpected?"
"Oh bugger! Don't tell me Alex was less than forthcoming in his explanation!" Her brow furrowed. "Typical Krycek, always messing with the rule book. Anyway, regardless of my little Russian imp's interpretation of protocol, I have a job to do. So Fox Mulder, are we ready to explore the past?" Her smile was reminiscent of that of shark just before it bit you on the ass.
"Where are we going?"
"To solve a three pipe problem, think you're up to it Watson?" Her cat-like eyes challenged him. "C'mon Fox, isn't this what you live for? Delving into the unknown in search of the *truth*?"
Mulder felt his pulse quicken. Phoebe Green, in whatever guise, had the ability to reduce his carefully constructed emotional walls to the consistancy of wet cardboard. Hoping that the passage of time and experience had better equiped him to deal with this seemingly malevolent incarnation, he studied his guest. "Ok,I'll buy that. How does this work?"
Phoebe batted her eyelashes coyly. "Forgive the melodramatics darling, but you have to kiss me."
Mulder winced. "I'd rather walk through fire!"
"Wimp!" Phoebe laughed "Chicken! Y'know I never thought I'd see the day when you turned down a Phoebe challenge. What's the matter Mulder? Afraid you couldn't handle it?"
He was up close and personal in two strides. Long arms grabbed her roughly and tightly closed lips captured her grinning mouth in painfull defiance. Apartment 42 began to twist into a kaleidescope of colour as the magic began it's descent into the past. When Mulder surfaced for air the instantly recognisable scene before him was like a knife between the shoulder blades.
*******************************************************
"Last Christmas I gave you my heart, the very next day you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special."
The whining falsetto of George Michael immediately confirmed Mulder's worst fears. It had to be the University Christmas ball of 1985. Oh shit! Why this year in particular? He turned to question his guide but the maleficent spirit seemed to have vanished.
The dining hall of Magdalene College was packed with Christmas revellers. Couples smooched in the darkness as the last few songs of the night blared from the disco. As Mulder propped up the student bar, a pint of *Theakstons Old Puke* clutched firmly to his chest, he spotted his reflection in one of the long mirrors behind the row of optics in front of him. A much younger version of himself he noted nostalgically taking in the floppy hair, the sleeves of his suit jacket pushed up to the elbow and the thin, leather,*Piano key* tie knotted casually at half mast. Eww, very Miami Vice! Did I really used to dress like that?
Turning back to the dance floor he began to search through half glazed eyes for the love of his life among the swaying throng. Love of his life? Mulder drained the foul brew from his glass more by bad habit than design as he tried to recall what had been the foundation for that particular strand of warped logic. Emotional ineptitude? The unexpected attention of a good-looking intelligent female? A surfeit of underused hormones? A potent mixture of all three? All he knew for certain was that their six month courtship of snogging and fumbling had culminated in a misty night of embarrasingly quick, but unbridled passion atop a certain tomb in Whindlesham not so many months ago.
Given his lack of any real experience in the dating department to that point, was it any wonder he had thought it *the real deal?*.
"PHOEBE!" Mulder rested his empty pint on the bar and lurched toward the dance floor. "PHOEBE GREEN WHERE ARE YOU?" He bounced among the swaying couples like a badly directed pinball. He almost collapsed against the opposite wall before he felt the reassuring hands of Roger, his room mate, on his shoulders.
"She's not here Fox me old mate." There was something in Roger's tone that belied pity. "C'mon old son, I think you and I need to call it a night."
"I'm not going anywhere 'till I find her." Even eight sails to the wind but with total recall of the unfolding scenario, Mulder had neither the impetus or the inclination to conceed defeat. He was trapped in his past. A prisoner of particular moment in series of events that he would rather forget. He could do nothing but go through the motions.
"Let her go mate!" Roger tried valiantly to steer his pal to the door. "She's a slapper! A scrubber! Bloody hell Fox, how you got tangled in her web I'll never know?"
"She's my destiny." Incoherant limbs fought the change of direction while his brain fought to control the unwanted words tumbling from his lips. "I love her."
"Jesus went to Bethleham on a bicycle!" Roger, equally inebriated, had a sudden compulsion to educate his roomy. "Look mate, I don't want to be the one to open your eyes but..." He hung his head, almost ashamed of his grasp of the facts. "Fox, you're my mate, my buddy don't make me do this to you...I mean it is Christmas an' all."
Mulder felt the bilious memory trail through his soul. "What are you saying Rog?"
"She brings a whole new deffinition to the phase *goodwill to all men*. What I'm saying mate is that you've been played for a patsy... a fall guy....she's been stringing you along Mulder." Roger wouldn't meet the young mans seering gaze. "I know you won't believe me...hell, I almost hope you don't believe me."
"You're right I don't. You're just jealous that she loves me."
"Yeah right! I suppose calling you *That big-nosed Yanky Hick* behind your back is just a term of endearment?" It pained Roger to resort to the cruel-to-be-kind tact but he was desperate.
"You're a Fucking liar!" Mulder growled menacingly. The temperature of the conversation dropped quickly below freezing. "Either you tell me where she is or I'll damn well knock it out of you."
Roger shook his head sadly. "C'mon mate, trust me, you don't want to know. We'll go back, grab a coffee, sleep it off. In the morning this will all be forgotten."
"WHERE IS SHE?" Mulder's fists clenched and for a minute he was afraid he might actually carry through his drunken threat. Roger sighed the sigh of a defeated man.
"If you really must know, then I suggest you take a quick walk around the car park and find Charlie's car...it's the Silver Porshe." With a pitying shrug the young man began to stagger back to the bar. Halfway there he stopped and turned. "Mulder, don't do it mate please,...don't put yourself through this, come'an have a another drink with me... please?"
The warning was wasted on thin air as Mulder strode purposefully to the door. The barren chill of the English December night probably made his teeth chatter as he made his way across the carpark, but he could recall only what his mind let him. Memories of a past that he thought he'd buried crushed his present self like an avalanche as he felt the crunch of gravel beneath the automatic steps of his feet.
The silver Porche rocked with a stready, rythmic sway as he approached. Each leaden, gut wrenching step took him nearer to the car. His brain fought wildly against the long known *truth* he was about to re-live again, but he continued anyway. The windows, dripping with the steamy evidence of his hearts betrayal veiled his view but the gutteral moans of abandon from within painted a clear picture.
"STOP!" The haunting spell which had trapped him was suddenly broken by the spirit of Phoebe as she barred his path. "Do you really want to go through this again Fox?"
"No thanks! I got the message loud and clear the first time." Mulder mentally scrapped up the tattered remnants of his naive misguided heart and dropped them casually into his top pocket. "What's next? A trip to suicide point so you can push me off and finish the job properly?"
"Mine is not to question why!" Phoebe linked her arm in his and led him away "I can only assume that there is a purpose to what you're being shown."
"That was one hell of a Christmas present you gave me that year you sadistic bitch..." Mulder disentangled himself from her touch with as much distain as he could muster "You really screwed with my perception of the Christmas spirit when you pulled that stunt..."
"You hated Christmas long before I got to you as I recall."
"When I fell for you I started to believe that maybe, just maybe, I was wrong and Christmas did have a meaning." Mulder cut her off sourly. "To you it was all a game, just like this...Well I'm tired of your games, they're boring me. I want to go back! Take me back...NOW!"
"As you wish." Phoebe batted her eyelashes again and they were back in his apartment. "Mulder, for what it's worth I'm truelly sorry for betraying you that night."
"Sorry?" Mulder slumped on his couch and thrust his aching soul into his hands "You don't know the meaning of the word. I thought you loved me Phoebe, I really did. But I was just an amusing distraction wasn't I?" he sighed "After that night I swore I'd never let another woman get close enough to do that to me again."
"So what about Diana?"
"A testament of my innability to keep to my own rules I guess." Mulder snickered bitterly "I seem to have a weakness for intelligent women....actually cold, two-faced, scheming, heartless, intelligent bitches is more accurate....must be the pretty packaging."
"Dana Scully is an intelligent woman."
"What's that supposed to mean? Scully is my partner, my friend...something you never were. She doesn't play games and she'd never knowingly hurt me. I trust her and I hope she trusts me."
"You trust her yet you didn't accept her invitation?"
"Yes, especially because she trusts me. My Christmas's are already ruined, why ruin hers as well? look, haven't you got some other poor shmuck to torment tonight? Like I said you're becoming tedious."
"You know Mulder, you're one in a million. I never really appreciated what I had back then and I'll always regret it... If I could turn back the clock and change it all, believe me I would." Phoebe moved in front of him and placed an icy hand on his shoulder "Fox, maybe by re-living the past you're being given the chance to appreciate what you have in the present?" She leant down and planted a cold kiss on the crown of his head. "I don't blame you for thinking the worse of me but I beg you, don't waste this experience. Don't walk away from tonight with nothing, you're too good a man for that.....Good luck!"
The static swirl of the tv flared for just an instance and the Ghost of Chrismas Past dissolved into the night.
Mulder took a deep, cleansing breath. Whatever purpose had been in that visit was stangely lost on him at present. The whole thing had left him far too raw to think. All he felt he could hope for was that the Spirit of Christmas Present would be more benevolent.
part 2 concluded..............
********************************************************
Author: Jen the Genie
For disclaimers/notes see pt 1
Apartment 42
Hegal Place
Dec 24th - 10.30pm approx.
The static swirl that danced across the face of the tv cast a monochomatic glow around the apartment. Mulder was stretched out on the couch, his mind suitably numbed with a couple of beers he'd found in the fridge and half a bottle of a more than reasonable Tequila - an early Christmas present from the indomitable Frohike. The accompanying tag had read 'Drink-me' in large purple letters. Well drink he certainly had, hoping it would shrink him Alice-like to the size he felt mentally and then he could find the door that would allow him to escape from this self induced seasonal blue funk. It didn't and he couldn't, but it did allow him to fall asleep.
Was it the heavy knocking on his apartment door that stirred his alcohol induced slumber?...or the fact his sweatshirt had ridden up to expose his bare back to the cold night air? Whatever the reason, Mulder became aware of a presence in the room that his dulled brain couldn't immediately identify but sent shivers up his spine none the less. A waft of adrenaline coursed through him as he struggled to pull his body from it's prone position, feeling rather than seeing the figure lounging comfortably in the armchair opposite.
"Take your time Comrade." The Russian inflection in the final word focussed Mulder's fuzzy brain quicker than a bucket of iced water.
"Alex Krycek!" He spat, groping wildly for his gun. *D'oh!* A large figurative hand slapped the inside of his temple as he quickly recalled leaving it on the nightstand. "What the hell do you want?"
"Relax Mulder," Krycek gave a lazy grin "I'm not here to kill you....see, no gun!" As his arch nemesis peeled back the edges of his jacket, Mulder felt the hair on the back of his neck stiffen. He could swear that the figure opposite him was opaque to the point of being see-through.
"No Mulder, this is more a business call. I thought I'd drop by, have a chat, offer you some advice...." Alex began to float gently to his feet.
Somewhere in the back of his mind Mulder heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like his jaw hitting the floor. The figure of Alex Krycek came to rest a good three inches above the laquered wood, a pile of chains neatly coiled at his feet.
"Social call?...Social call?" he heard himself repeat dumbly
Alex rolled his eyes, "Oh jeez!...Hello? Ratboy calling Mulder!" An opalescent hand reached across as if to knock on the dumbfounded Agents head, only to pass straight through it. What felt like a shard of ice surfed down Mulders spine causing him to shudder.
"You're dead...you're a ghost!" Mulder spluttered.
"Could be!" Krycek shrugged
"No. you're not dead, I'm dead drunk." Mulders eyes flicked questionably between the half emptied bottle of Tequila and Krycek. "You're not really dead...are you?"
Krycek folded his arms, his fingers drumming out silent impatience on an ethereally glowing sleeve.
"Yes, alright I'm dead. That make you feel any better?"
With chains clanking dimly as they trailed behind, Krycek resumed gliding back and forth above the floor allowing this piece of information to sink in. He knew it had hit the spot when Mulders face broke into a broad grin.
"We'll wadday'know, " Mulder slurred "It must be Christmas! Who do I have to thank for this gift?"
"Irrelevant under the circumstances. As weird as it may sound Mulder, I may have information that could change your life, not for the first time I might add...you interested?"
"Given your track record I sincerely doubt that!" Mulder muttered as he considered his options for a minute then shrugged "Sure, why not."
"Good 'cause I'm nearly outta time here." Krycek became serious "Y'know Mulder for a smart guy you can be supremely dense at times."
"Unlike the dead guy who's currently floating above my floor." Mulder noted sarcastically "Enlighten me by all means Krycek but don't patronise me. I think I'm beginning to figure this out."
"It's nice to see that expensive Oxford education isn't going rusty in the basement." Krycek was equally sarcastic.
"You're an alcohol induced, Dickensian inspired manifestation of my latest guilt trip....What I can't quite figure is why my brain chose you to represent Jacob Marley?"
"Alcohol induced? Dickensian inspired?" Krycek shook his head "Look Mulder, as it stands I couldn't give a rat's ass if you thought I was a marijuana induced manifestation of Bob Marley, do you want to know?"
"What I want to know is why You?....Why you, why me, why now?"
"Does it really matter?" Krycek stopped gliding and lean't forward. " C'mon Mulder, get with the programme here will'ya! All I need is a simple yes or no?"
"I s'pose...but tell me. If this is my personal Christmas Carol nightmare, just what kind of enlightenment am I supposed to reach?" Mulder was bemused.
"Beats the hell outta me?" Krycek shrugged "Still," he straightened his jacket "As you're aware of Dickens then you'll know the drill, so I'll keep this brief...between now and Christmas morning you'll get the customary three visits, past, present, future yadda yadda yadda! But I warn you Mulder, they've updated the procedure since Marley retired so your spirits may not be quite what you were expecting."
"Whatever!" Mulder reached for the Tequila again "Aren't you supposed to lecture me about the perils of my lifestyle or something?"
"Hey, I'm just the messenger." Alex laughed over his shoulder as he floated to the door, "Besides, you wouldn't believe me anyhow." his figure began to fade into the wood. "I'm not party to what the *three* have in store for you but you'd better take heed Mulder. If you don't could be joining me sooner than you think. ...see you on the flip side, the flip side, the flip side........."
Mulders eyes lurched from the door to the bottle in his hand and back again. Jeez, this stuff is strong! ..Strong but good... The room began to spin as he collapsed back into the couch. Spirit of Christmas past eh?...Well bring it on! 'Ol Spooky is just dying to meet you!
********************************************************
"Fox?" A warm feminine voice purred in his ear "Oh Foxy foxy fox!" A warm flush of breath slid up his neck causing him to stir, his free arm wrapping instinctively around the warm curves of the body draped over his.
"Fox Mulder, are you going to wake up or am I going to kick your backside!" As the clipped British pronunciation weedled it's way into his brain like a stilleto blade, Mulder came too with a start.
"Phoebe? Phoebe Green?" Something akin to an iceball landed in his stomach. Cautiously he opened first one eye, then the other. It was Phoebe alright. The cascade of brunette curls, the sultry come-to-bed eyes, a cleavage like the Grand Canyon at Sunset....She was just how he remembered her from University. Stop: Rewind: Replay: University?
Mulder was on his feet before you could say New York Knicks. The young woman looked stunned as she thrown unceremoniously to the floor.
"Well I must say, is that any way to treat an old friend?" Phoebe's likeness reached up with an elegantly manicured hand. "Are you going to stand there with your mouth hanging open like a moron or would you care to help me up!"
"Are you a ghost?" Mulder grasped the offered hand "I mean are you dead?"
"Good God no!" Phoebes laugh tinkled around the apartment like rusty sleigh bells as she climbed to her feet. "I'm your representation of Christmas past." she gave a quick twirl "Like it?"
"Ummm...well..." his stomach clenched as a fountain of memories sprang forth "It's certainly different...ummm...err, unexpected?"
"Oh bugger! Don't tell me Alex was less than forthcoming in his explanation!" Her brow furrowed. "Typical Krycek, always messing with the rule book. Anyway, regardless of my little Russian imp's interpretation of protocol, I have a job to do. So Fox Mulder, are we ready to explore the past?" Her smile was reminiscent of that of shark just before it bit you on the ass.
"Where are we going?"
"To solve a three pipe problem, think you're up to it Watson?" Her cat-like eyes challenged him. "C'mon Fox, isn't this what you live for? Delving into the unknown in search of the *truth*?"
Mulder felt his pulse quicken. Phoebe Green, in whatever guise, had the ability to reduce his carefully constructed emotional walls to the consistancy of wet cardboard. Hoping that the passage of time and experience had better equiped him to deal with this seemingly malevolent incarnation, he studied his guest. "Ok,I'll buy that. How does this work?"
Phoebe batted her eyelashes coyly. "Forgive the melodramatics darling, but you have to kiss me."
Mulder winced. "I'd rather walk through fire!"
"Wimp!" Phoebe laughed "Chicken! Y'know I never thought I'd see the day when you turned down a Phoebe challenge. What's the matter Mulder? Afraid you couldn't handle it?"
He was up close and personal in two strides. Long arms grabbed her roughly and tightly closed lips captured her grinning mouth in painfull defiance. Apartment 42 began to twist into a kaleidescope of colour as the magic began it's descent into the past. When Mulder surfaced for air the instantly recognisable scene before him was like a knife between the shoulder blades.
*******************************************************
"Last Christmas I gave you my heart, the very next day you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special."
The whining falsetto of George Michael immediately confirmed Mulder's worst fears. It had to be the University Christmas ball of 1985. Oh shit! Why this year in particular? He turned to question his guide but the maleficent spirit seemed to have vanished.
The dining hall of Magdalene College was packed with Christmas revellers. Couples smooched in the darkness as the last few songs of the night blared from the disco. As Mulder propped up the student bar, a pint of *Theakstons Old Puke* clutched firmly to his chest, he spotted his reflection in one of the long mirrors behind the row of optics in front of him. A much younger version of himself he noted nostalgically taking in the floppy hair, the sleeves of his suit jacket pushed up to the elbow and the thin, leather,*Piano key* tie knotted casually at half mast. Eww, very Miami Vice! Did I really used to dress like that?
Turning back to the dance floor he began to search through half glazed eyes for the love of his life among the swaying throng. Love of his life? Mulder drained the foul brew from his glass more by bad habit than design as he tried to recall what had been the foundation for that particular strand of warped logic. Emotional ineptitude? The unexpected attention of a good-looking intelligent female? A surfeit of underused hormones? A potent mixture of all three? All he knew for certain was that their six month courtship of snogging and fumbling had culminated in a misty night of embarrasingly quick, but unbridled passion atop a certain tomb in Whindlesham not so many months ago.
Given his lack of any real experience in the dating department to that point, was it any wonder he had thought it *the real deal?*.
"PHOEBE!" Mulder rested his empty pint on the bar and lurched toward the dance floor. "PHOEBE GREEN WHERE ARE YOU?" He bounced among the swaying couples like a badly directed pinball. He almost collapsed against the opposite wall before he felt the reassuring hands of Roger, his room mate, on his shoulders.
"She's not here Fox me old mate." There was something in Roger's tone that belied pity. "C'mon old son, I think you and I need to call it a night."
"I'm not going anywhere 'till I find her." Even eight sails to the wind but with total recall of the unfolding scenario, Mulder had neither the impetus or the inclination to conceed defeat. He was trapped in his past. A prisoner of particular moment in series of events that he would rather forget. He could do nothing but go through the motions.
"Let her go mate!" Roger tried valiantly to steer his pal to the door. "She's a slapper! A scrubber! Bloody hell Fox, how you got tangled in her web I'll never know?"
"She's my destiny." Incoherant limbs fought the change of direction while his brain fought to control the unwanted words tumbling from his lips. "I love her."
"Jesus went to Bethleham on a bicycle!" Roger, equally inebriated, had a sudden compulsion to educate his roomy. "Look mate, I don't want to be the one to open your eyes but..." He hung his head, almost ashamed of his grasp of the facts. "Fox, you're my mate, my buddy don't make me do this to you...I mean it is Christmas an' all."
Mulder felt the bilious memory trail through his soul. "What are you saying Rog?"
"She brings a whole new deffinition to the phase *goodwill to all men*. What I'm saying mate is that you've been played for a patsy... a fall guy....she's been stringing you along Mulder." Roger wouldn't meet the young mans seering gaze. "I know you won't believe me...hell, I almost hope you don't believe me."
"You're right I don't. You're just jealous that she loves me."
"Yeah right! I suppose calling you *That big-nosed Yanky Hick* behind your back is just a term of endearment?" It pained Roger to resort to the cruel-to-be-kind tact but he was desperate.
"You're a Fucking liar!" Mulder growled menacingly. The temperature of the conversation dropped quickly below freezing. "Either you tell me where she is or I'll damn well knock it out of you."
Roger shook his head sadly. "C'mon mate, trust me, you don't want to know. We'll go back, grab a coffee, sleep it off. In the morning this will all be forgotten."
"WHERE IS SHE?" Mulder's fists clenched and for a minute he was afraid he might actually carry through his drunken threat. Roger sighed the sigh of a defeated man.
"If you really must know, then I suggest you take a quick walk around the car park and find Charlie's car...it's the Silver Porshe." With a pitying shrug the young man began to stagger back to the bar. Halfway there he stopped and turned. "Mulder, don't do it mate please,...don't put yourself through this, come'an have a another drink with me... please?"
The warning was wasted on thin air as Mulder strode purposefully to the door. The barren chill of the English December night probably made his teeth chatter as he made his way across the carpark, but he could recall only what his mind let him. Memories of a past that he thought he'd buried crushed his present self like an avalanche as he felt the crunch of gravel beneath the automatic steps of his feet.
The silver Porche rocked with a stready, rythmic sway as he approached. Each leaden, gut wrenching step took him nearer to the car. His brain fought wildly against the long known *truth* he was about to re-live again, but he continued anyway. The windows, dripping with the steamy evidence of his hearts betrayal veiled his view but the gutteral moans of abandon from within painted a clear picture.
"STOP!" The haunting spell which had trapped him was suddenly broken by the spirit of Phoebe as she barred his path. "Do you really want to go through this again Fox?"
"No thanks! I got the message loud and clear the first time." Mulder mentally scrapped up the tattered remnants of his naive misguided heart and dropped them casually into his top pocket. "What's next? A trip to suicide point so you can push me off and finish the job properly?"
"Mine is not to question why!" Phoebe linked her arm in his and led him away "I can only assume that there is a purpose to what you're being shown."
"That was one hell of a Christmas present you gave me that year you sadistic bitch..." Mulder disentangled himself from her touch with as much distain as he could muster "You really screwed with my perception of the Christmas spirit when you pulled that stunt..."
"You hated Christmas long before I got to you as I recall."
"When I fell for you I started to believe that maybe, just maybe, I was wrong and Christmas did have a meaning." Mulder cut her off sourly. "To you it was all a game, just like this...Well I'm tired of your games, they're boring me. I want to go back! Take me back...NOW!"
"As you wish." Phoebe batted her eyelashes again and they were back in his apartment. "Mulder, for what it's worth I'm truelly sorry for betraying you that night."
"Sorry?" Mulder slumped on his couch and thrust his aching soul into his hands "You don't know the meaning of the word. I thought you loved me Phoebe, I really did. But I was just an amusing distraction wasn't I?" he sighed "After that night I swore I'd never let another woman get close enough to do that to me again."
"So what about Diana?"
"A testament of my innability to keep to my own rules I guess." Mulder snickered bitterly "I seem to have a weakness for intelligent women....actually cold, two-faced, scheming, heartless, intelligent bitches is more accurate....must be the pretty packaging."
"Dana Scully is an intelligent woman."
"What's that supposed to mean? Scully is my partner, my friend...something you never were. She doesn't play games and she'd never knowingly hurt me. I trust her and I hope she trusts me."
"You trust her yet you didn't accept her invitation?"
"Yes, especially because she trusts me. My Christmas's are already ruined, why ruin hers as well? look, haven't you got some other poor shmuck to torment tonight? Like I said you're becoming tedious."
"You know Mulder, you're one in a million. I never really appreciated what I had back then and I'll always regret it... If I could turn back the clock and change it all, believe me I would." Phoebe moved in front of him and placed an icy hand on his shoulder "Fox, maybe by re-living the past you're being given the chance to appreciate what you have in the present?" She leant down and planted a cold kiss on the crown of his head. "I don't blame you for thinking the worse of me but I beg you, don't waste this experience. Don't walk away from tonight with nothing, you're too good a man for that.....Good luck!"
The static swirl of the tv flared for just an instance and the Ghost of Chrismas Past dissolved into the night.
Mulder took a deep, cleansing breath. Whatever purpose had been in that visit was stangely lost on him at present. The whole thing had left him far too raw to think. All he felt he could hope for was that the Spirit of Christmas Present would be more benevolent.
part 2 concluded..............
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