Heirlooms

Title: Heirlooms (1/1)

Spoilers: Through Season 9

Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Files or any
of the characters related to the show

Author Comments: I don't think of this as
an alternate reality story. I like to think
that Mulder and Scully will one day have a
child that they can watch grow. The only
way I figured for that to happen would be
through adoption. I also refuse to believe
that everything will end on 12-22-2012. I
believe that Mulder's been given
misinformation or there's a way that he and
Scully can prevent it. Mulder said it
himself, "Maybe there's hope." I am
choosing to believe in that hope. I am
choosing for them to lead a semi-normal
life.


***Dedicated to my friends and family
members who find as much joy in Christmas as
I do***




Christmas has always been important to me.
It has been one of the only consistent
traditions my family has been able to uphold
in the midst of our chaotic lifestyle. My
mom always made sure that, no matter where
we were, we always had a Christmas tree. We
would always decorate it as a family as Amy
Grant and Bing Crosby Christmas CDs crooned
in the background. Christmas helps to remind
me that, despite the hellish relocations and
our uncomfortable secrets, we are still a
family. And in spite of a few dark Christmas
memories, the majority of my Christmas
memories are beautiful and warm.



My earliest memory of Christmas is of my
father setting up the Christmas tree in our
living room. I was about four years old and
I remember really liking the lights that he
strung on the tree. It looked like the tree
belonged to fairies. Mom would come and go
from the kitchen, watching our progress and
smiling at us fondly. I remember her coming
up, as Daddy struggled with the lights near
the top of the tree, and whispering that he
looked like a monkey. I had giggled
furiously and Dad had looked over at us
suspiciously.


"What are you telling her Scully?"


My parents have always called one another by
their last names (Mom kept hers when they
married). I have never thought much about
it. I guess everyone's parents are weird in
one way or another. Mom grinned and winked
at me.


"Nothing; absolutely nothing, Mulder."


Dad had smirked as he flung the remaining
lights on the tree haphazardly and gestured
at mom.


"Come here, Scully."

My mom remained rooted to her spot and
grinned, "You think I'm going to fall for
that?"


"Well, you tend to do strange things when in
the presence of a tall, dark, and handsome
man." Dad said as he slowly walked towards
my mom.


Mom laughed, "I don't see anyone like that
around." She picked me up and hugged me
close.


"Using our child as leverage, Scully?
You're a terrible mother!"


I squirmed around in her arms and faced my
father, "I like being used as leverage!"


They had both laughed and my father had
wrapped his arms around the both of us and
we just stood there for a real long time.
The smell of some sort of soup simmering on
the stove, the sound of Bing Crosby singing
The Twelve Days of Christmas in the
background. I remember feeling safe and warm
and comfortable.


When they finally pulled apart I grinned at
them and Mom had given me a smile and a kiss
while she transferred me into Dad's arms.
She turned to go back into the kitchen and
Dad had watched her go with this silly grin
on his face. I giggled and squirmed and he
finally realized that I was in his arms.


"All right squirt, let's see what we can do
about this tree."


I watched as he finished with the lights and
stared happily at the soft glow that came
from the tree.


"Okay, you wanna hear something special?"


I looked up at him from my spot on the floor
and nodded. He smiled and walked into the
bedroom. I remember thinking that he was
going to give me an early present, but when
he came back with a small ornament, I was
not quite as curious as I was disappointed.
He held up a small glass ornament in the
shape of a small angel. Apparently, my
disappointment was rather apparent on my
face because he had laughed.


"Wipe that scowl off your face Samantha, I'm
about to tell you something very important
and special. Your mom might kill me because
she thinks you're too young to know, but I
know you're ready. You're a big girl now."


"I'm four, Daddy! I'm almost a grownup!" I
had giggled. I was curious now that it was
something I wasn't supposed to know.


Dad sat beside me and smiled, "Okay Sammy,
do you see this pretty ornament?"


I nodded and reached out to touch it. It
was cold and very fragile. It reminded me
of the delightful icicles that hung off the
roof of our current house.


"This is a very important ornament." Dad
told me; "You know how mommy and I have told
you that you are our little Christmas
miracle?"


I nodded. They reminded me of this daily.
They adopted me the day I was born, on
December 18, 2004. The process had been long
and difficult. I was born just days after
they received the phone call informing them
that they had finally been approved. But
that was all I really knew up to that point.


"Well before you were born, mommy and I had
another baby. His name was William. He was
very special, just like you, but something
happened and Mommy and I had to find him a
new home. We found him a very special mommy
and daddy and that's where he lives now.
Mommy and I didn't want to give him up, but
we were forced to. We miss him very much, so
every Christmas we put this ornament up on
the tree first. We do it so we will always
remember him, and I want you to know this so
you can always remember your big brother."


I remember the first thing that crossed my
mind was that I did not want anything to
happen to me. I did not want my mom and dad
to take me away. But I wanted to remember
William. I wanted to remember my brother, so
I asked if I could put the ornament up this
year.


Dad had smiled lovingly down at me before
handing me the delicate ornament. I walked
up to the tree and gently hung the angel on
as high a branch I could reach so our dog
Lego would not eat it.


"That looks beautiful, sweetheart," Dad had
commented, his voice tight with emotion.


"It looks perfect."


Both Dad and I whipped around to find Mom
watching us lovingly. She crossed to the
light-switch and turned off the living room
light so that only the perfect glow of the
Christmas tree surrounded us. I remember
being sad at that moment. I was sad that
something bad had happened to my mommy and
my daddy and my older brother. And I was
sad because I did not want anything bad to
happen to me.


Mom must have sensed my emotions because she
had picked me up and promised that nothing
would happen to me. That I was never have
to leave them. Dad kissed me softly on my
cheek and my four-year-old worries were
replaced with the tingly warm feeling of
family.


The Christmas I was seven stands out as the
worst in my memory. Dad had gone on a
"special trip" (code words for a trip we can
not tell Sam about) and was supposed to have
returned the 22nd of December. Christmas
Eve came and he was still gone and no one
could get a hold of him.


It was at this point that mom had decided I
was old enough to listen to the
conversations she had with my Gran. We sat
in the kitchen for hours sipping hot tea and
trying to drive away our concerns with
small-talk. The phone sat in the middle of
our kitchen table. Every time it rang we
would jump, and when it was not my father's
voice on the other end we would try and hold
back tears.


Dad came sagging into the house at 1:03 on
Christmas morning. I remember the exact
time because I had just checked my watch
when I heard the back door open. He looked
tired and cold and everyone, Gran included,
rushed towards him at once. Despite his
frozen state he smiled so widely and
contentedly that he seemed to warm
instantly. He kissed us all and apologized
profusely. Mom sat him down and warmed him
some soup and started the coffee maker while
he just stared at us each in turn, the
feeling of thanksgiving seeping out of his
pores.


Late that night I awoke and crept downstairs
to get a glass of water. At the foot of the
stairs a noise caused me to pause and peek
around the corner. My parents stood, wrapped
in an embrace, in front of the glowing
Christmas tree. I watched them for a moment
before tip-toeing back up to my room.


To this day I do not know where he went or
what kept him away so long. It was not the
first time it had happened, he was always
going away on trips nobody was willing to
talk to me about, but it was definitely the
longest we had gone without hearing from
him.


It has never been a secret that my family
was not 'normal'. I was home-schooled most
of my life because we moved and traveled so
often. But it was not until the summer
before I started high school that my mom and
dad sat me down and explained everything to
me. When you are an only child you have to
learn to be sneaky. And when you do not
have many friends you learn to enjoy being
sneaky.


Mom and Dad explained the conspiracies and
the past fears. They explained the meaning
of 12-22-2012 and their part in its
prevention, the precautions they took, and
the people who gave their lives to stop our
world from shattering around us.


I listened to all this knowing that they had
long been aware that I knew a lot of what
they were telling me. But it was a relief
for the whole family to stop talking in
whispers and behind closed doors.


They had also explained that they were going
to stop running, for the sake of their
sanity as well as mine. They felt it was
finally safe for them to stay in one spot.
They wanted me to have a relatively normal
life. They wanted for me to have friends. I
was not prepared for that, and I was even
less prepared when they told me I could
choose where we would live.


After a lot of consideration, I chose a
small town in New York, just an hour outside
of the city. That is where we have been ever
since. Mom and Dad both teach at a small,
private college in town. Mom teaches Pre-
Med Biology and Immunology and Dad teaches
Introduction to Psychology and Abnormal
Psychology and has just been made head of
the Psychology Department. We attend a
local non-denominational church on Sunday
mornings and Wednesday nights, and my
parents even lead a small group on Sunday
nights.



Every Christmas we spend a few days in New
York City, shopping during the days and
seeing shows in the evenings. I am involved
in Choir at school and Mom and Dad come
videotape every single one of my
performances.


I guess you could say that we are the
'average American family' except at night.
At night, after the table has been cleared
of the dinner dishes and the dishwasher is
humming in the background, Mom and Dad close
the blinds and pull out books and papers to
pour over for hours. Their laptops click
and they chat about recent abductions and
new viruses. They laugh about vampires and
small potatoes. They sip iced tea and argue
over strange websites whose owners claim to
have been abducted by aliens. They talk
about friends and family members they miss
and sometimes Mom starts to cry about
William. Those nights my dad holds her while
I make tea for us all; and we sit together
in silent prayers for the brother I never
knew.



And it is in this house that I have my
favorite Christmas memory.



It was two years ago, during my sophomore
year of high school and only a week after my
16th birthday. It was the first time since
I was born that every single one of my
family members was going to be together for
the holiday. Mom and I prepared for weeks
decorating and for days baking and cooking.
Gran even came early to help with the
preparations. Dad put lights on the house
and even two reindeer for the front lawn. I
went to sleep at night in a glow of
Christmas lights from the window and the
familiar songs of the Nutcracker playing
very softly in my CD player.


After midterms were over and school was out
for the holidays, I would stay up until one
or two in the mornings with my lights turned
out, my room bathed in the soft glow of
Christmas lights and peppermint candles,
chatting to friends on the internet or
reading in my bed. I would sleep in 'til
ten and then help Mmom and Gran in the
kitchen. Sometimes friends would stop by
and help or I would go over to their houses
and help their mothers and fathers.


By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, and
relatives began to arrive, our house looked
and smelled like a gingerbread house, both
inside and out. I soaked up every ounce of
joy that I could from my aunts and uncles
and cousins galore. They arrived in family
units, some large and some small, with
armloads of colorful presents and grocery
bags of food. My oldest cousin, Matthew,
arrived with his wife Brandi. Uncle
Charlie's oldest son, Joseph, and Matthew's
sister, Elizabeth, engaged in good natured
debate over which is better, Harvard or
Yale.


Charlie's twins, Maggie and Melissa, and I
talked excitedly about school and future
plans while their sister, Katharine, sat
quietly and listened (every now and then
offering a remark or asking a question).
After dinner the whole family gathered in
the living room to enjoy the warm embrace of
the most spectacular fire my father has ever
built in our corner fireplace.


The Christmas tree stood, handsome and
illuminated in the window, a mound of
presents surrounding its base. Mom and I
brought in cups of coffee and hot chocolate
and suggest starting National Lampoon's
Christmas Vacation. We ate sandwiches and
finger foods in the living room on snowman
paper plates and laughed and told stories.
It was the first time we had all been
together since I was very young.


We were all allowed to open one gift apiece
on Christmas Eve and everyone received new
pajamas, a Christmas tradition that Gran
started with my mom and uncles so everyone
would look presentable and pretty for those
blasted Christmas morning pictures. This
year mine were red flannel with reindeer and
they had a matching pair of red slippers. I
remember how we all laughed at the alien
pajamas my dad managed to find for my mom
and hoot and whistle good-naturedly over the
satiny pajamas that Matthew got Brandi.


Late that night, after everyone had retired
to their hotel rooms, and Mom, Dad, and Gran
had long been asleep, I snuck downstairs. I
wanted to get one last look at the Christmas
tree in the dark of night with presents
spread around it. My parents always leave
the tree lights on all night long on
Christmas Eve. The room was bathed in its
light. The fire from the fireplace was
mostly ash now, but a few glowing embers had
not yet given up. The room had been tidied
from the evening's events but still had the
lived-in look and feel of family.


I stood in my new pajamas and prayed a
prayer of thanks to the Lord and quietly
remembered why we celebrate Christmas. As I
was whispering Isaiah 9:6, I looked at the
tree. One of the soft, white lights
illuminated William's angel. It glowed
fiercely and my breath caught in my throat.
Somehow, in that moment I knew he was safe.
and that one day he would be reunited with
our family. I felt happiness and sorrow all
mix together in my heart and warm me all
over.


"Trying to figure out which presents are
yours, Sam?"


I turned around quickly and saw my mom and
dad standing at the foot of the stairs
behind me. Dad was holding Mom's hand
affectionately and in his other hand was a
small package.


"We knew we'd find you here. You can't
stand not being a Christmas mouse, can you?"
Mom walked across the room and
affectionately brushed her hand across my
cheek. Dad pulled me into a warm embrace
and led me to the couch with his arm around
my shoulders. We all sat down together, and
I eyed the package.


"Curious Sam?" Dad asked.


"What's in the package, Dad?"


Mom smiled, "Well, why don't you open it and
find out?"


I grinned as I carefully worked off the
wrapping paper and then opened the small
jewelry box with excitement. My heart gave
a lurch when I saw the small silver cross
lying on the black velvet.


"It's like yours, Mom."


She nodded, "Yes it is."


"Do you understand the importance of the
cross, Samantha?" Dad asked.


I looked at each of them in turn, and
thought for a moment, "It means that I'm old
enough to understand and take control of my
faith. Not just in Christ and the Lord but
in all aspects of my life."


My parents nodded proudly, and I continued;
"and I do have my own faith. I have faith
that I will continue to grow up and make
wise decisions. That I will learn in my
experiences and in the people that I meet.
That I will have meaningful relationships in
my life that help guide me and that I will
learn out of the good and the bad. That I
will love as you and the Lord have taught me
to love. That I will one day become as
strong and guided as you both are."


I paused for a moment and looked at them.
"And I have faith that one day God will
reunite our family with William."


My parents looked at me proudly and with
such love that it was hard not to let the
tears that had welled up inside me fall.
Dad pulled my hair back and Mom fastened the
cross around my neck. They kissed me
goodnight and I stayed on the couch just
staring at William's angel.


Over the years that night has proven itself
one of the most meaningful moments in my
life. I can still remember the way the
house smelled, I can see the flicker of the
lights and feel the cool air flushing my
cheeks. It is my favorite Christmas memory.
And it is a memory that I hope, in time, I
will be able to pass on.




More Authors' Comments: I have worked on
this off and on for two years now. It is
not a song-fic in the least, but was
inspired by an Amy Grant song called
Heirlooms as well as several songs on her A
Christmas to Remember CD.

When I was 16 my mom told me how my aunt and
uncle hang a special ornament on the tree
before any other ornaments to remember their
stillborn child. I remember thinking how
special and sad that was. Every Christmas I
remember that and I say a prayer for them.
A couple of years later I was toying with
the idea of writing a Christmas fan fiction
and I was reminded of that story. It seemed
very natural that Mulder and Scully would
remember their child in this way, every
Christmas. And out of that grew this story.

Many of the traditions in this story are
personal traditions. Watching Christmas
Vacation and getting new pajamas every
Christmas Eve to name a couple. Christmas
is a very special time of year for my family
and me. My family, like Samantha's family
in this story, is not normal and one of the
more normal times of year for us is
Christmas. I hope you find this story
warming and full of Christmas spirit. Let
us not forget the true meaning of Christmas.

Thanks to Ruth and Deanna for support and
love. Thanks to Brandi for a new Christmas
tradition. And thanks to my family for
filling my heart with love every Christmas
that I come home.

For unto us a child is born and unto us a
son is given. And the government shall be
upon his shoulders. And he shall be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting
Father, and Prince of Peace.
-Isaiah 9:6