A/N: This is just a little holiday to-do. I'm not promoting any type of theology nor am I trying to steal anything from the X-Files or Frank Capra. It was just an idea I had while wrapping presents and watching some holiday television. Happy Holidays!

P.S.: Thanks for the reviews! I promise this will be completed by Christmas.

Dec. 24, 11:40 p.m.

Outskirts of Washington D.C.

"You can put the gun down, son, I'm not here to hurt you."

Mulder kept his firearm leveled at the man in front of him, eyeing him suspiciously as he walked around him.

"I'm supposed to believe that you're an angel?" he asked haughtily. "You sure don't look like an angel to me."

Mel straightened up and flicked his cigarette at Mulder's feet before thrusting his hands into his pockets.

"Nice. How many angels have you known, Mr. Mulder?" he replied with a little bite. "You spent too many years in this weird paranoid frame of mind. You claim you 'Want to Believe' but only in the things you think are worth believing in. Therein lies your problem."

Mel sighed and walked slowly towards the bridge, followed by an armed federal agent who was beginning to turn a pale shade of blue from the cold.

"You're so sure that you're always right that you have put all of your faith into searching for the answers to questions that are bigger than you, me or any of us. When those answers don't come to you the way you expect them to, you close off. You turn your back on those who care about you the most and push them away when all they want to do is help you. What is up with that anyway?"

Mulder stayed behind the man as he walked to the very spot Mulder was standing before the crash. Mel looked over the side of the bridge into the water below and pulled out another cigarette.

"You don't know anything about me," Mulder said, keeping his arm level and his finger near the trigger. "Now who sent you?"

Mel blew out a puff of smoke and shook is head. "This is going to be harder than I thought," he mumbled. He turned to face Mulder again, his brown eyes twinkling a combination of mischief and annoyance.

"Look, kid, we could spend all night out here discussing theology, philosophy and the quirky habits of egomanical, narcissitic Oxford trained psychologists, but by the time we come to a conclusion, you would have dropped dead of exposure and I would have failed in my mission. So let's cut to the chase, shall we? Quid Pro Quo, why do you want to kill yourself?"

Mulder eased his finger off the trigger and looked at the man skeptically.

"What makes you think I came up here to kill myself? Maybe I just came up here to enjoy the view."

Mel huffed and flicked his second cigarette off the bridge. Mulder watched it fall into the darkness below, the light from the ash trailing away.

"You shouldn't smoke those, you know," he quipped. "They'll kill you."

Mel pushed his hat up with one finger and gave Mulder a look that said 'You've got to be kidding.' Then in front of Mulder's eyes, he vanished. The agent twirled around wide-eyed, looking for the man who had been standing in front of him a second earlier. It was then that he noticed his gun was also no longer in his hands.

"Hey!" he yelled as he tried to get a grip on the situation. He believed in ghosts. He believed in poltergeists, but he didn't believe this was actually happening. It was almost cliché. Too cliché for Mulder to wrap his head around properly. Just as quickly as he had disappeared, Mel reappeared behind Mulder.

"Okay, make a joke," he said, causing Mulder to jump and let out a small girly scream. But the self-professed angel wasn't thru just yet. "This is serious business kid, and I can't help you unless you let me. So, let's try this again. Why would you want to kill yourself when you have so much to live for?"

At this, Mulder laughed sarcastically, opting to play along with the wacko.

"You really want to know? Okay, then try this on. I have ruined the lives of everyone who has ever come into contact with me. Maybe I'm cursed, I don't know, but I think people have suffered enough because of me. I just want it to stop. I want them to have peace, be happy."

Mel rocked back on his heels and clasped his hands in front of him.

"Now we're getting somewhere. So you think that by killing yourself, you'll save everyone you claim to have hurt future grief?" Mel chuckled and shook his head. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't you think the people who care about you will grieve if you take your own life? I mean, it may be a stretch, Heaven knows you're pissing me off, but I think killing yourself would only cause them more pain. So, what do you accomplish then?"

Mulder thought on this for a moment and leaned against the railing of the bridge, rubbing his eyes and squeezing the bridge of his nose. Whoever this nutjob was, he had a point, Mulder concluded. His mother had already lost so much in her life and he didn't want to think how Scully would react.

That still didn't ease his guilt about the havoc he had brought upon their lives.

"Maybe you're right," he acquiesced. "Maybe it wouldn't have been better if I had never been born."

Mel laughed loudly.

"You really think so, eh?" Mel chuckled as he took another cigarette from his pocket. "Okay champ, you get your wish. You were never born."