TITLE: O, Tannenbaum

AUTHOR: Carol Gritton

E-MAIL: jimcaz@dircon.co.uk

DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and
Fox TV. They are used without permission, and no infringement of
copyright is intended.

RATING: G

CLASSIFICATION: S

SUMMARY: A Christmas story with a little twist.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was written long before the reappearance of
a certain person in Redux II. For the purposes of this story, she is
still missing.

Comments welcome at the above address.

O, Tannenbaum 1/1
by Carol Gritton (jimcaz@dircon.co.uk)

Christmas Eve. The loneliest time of the year for Fox Mulder.
The nearer Christmas drew, the deeper his melancholy became. This
was a time for families, for happiness, for sharing. He had no
family now, only his mother, and she didn’t celebrate Christmas, not
any more. She sent him a card, and he would call her on Christmas
morning, but it was a duty, a chore, more than anything. A polite
exchange of pleasantries and nothing more.
No plump, golden turkey and crispy roast potatoes would adorn
his table on Christmas Day. A frozen TV dinner heated up in the
microwave was nearer the mark. Christmas was a time when suicide and
murder rates shot up, and he could quite understand why. Families
thrown together for one day of the year, the enforced closeness
leading to argument and dissent, and possibly murder. Then there
were the people like him. Lonely, depressed, no-one to share their
troubles with... their despair so great that the only way out was to
take their own lives.
I haven’t reached that point yet, thought Mulder, as he stared
at the few Christmas cards that stood on his bookshelf. His eyes
travelled up to the picture of Samantha, taking in her smiling face.
He reached out and touched the image beneath the glass.
“Where are you, Sam?” he said softly. “I miss you. Do you know
that I’m still looking for you? I won’t stop until I find you, even
if it takes me the rest of my life.” Wherever she was, he was sure
that she knew. He would never give up, never.
After a while, the silence and solitude became oppressive.
Mulder was usually quite happy with his own company, but not tonight.
Not at this time of year. Desperate to escape the four walls of his
lonely apartment, he snatched up his car keys, and headed for the
door.
He drove around aimlessly for hours. Past houses and apartments
decorated lovingly for the festive season. Some were tasteful,
others were gaudy, the outsides of the houses festooned with lights,
and Santa with his sleigh and reindeer perched on the roof or stuck
on the lawn. Mulder shuddered - he hated those ostentatious
displays.

It was the Christmas tree that caught his eye. Mulder pulled up
outside the small church, the tall tree decorated with candles. It
was beautiful in its simplicity. Mulder sat a while, just admiring
the perfect symmetry of the tree’s branches. Even with the car
windows closed , he could hear the sound of singing coming from
inside the church. There was some sort of service going on. The
strains of the song floated out to him, accompanied by the sound of a
harp.

O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum
Wie gruen sind deine Blaetter
Du gruenst nicht nur zur Sommerzeit
Nein auch in Winter wenn es schneit
O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum
Wie gruen sind deine Blaetter!

He remembered when he and Sam were young that they’d had a
little Christmas mobile that played “O, Tannenbaum.” He’d known the
words off by heart once, in the original German. He’d been taught
the words for a Christmas performance at school, when he was about
eight years old. He smiled as he recalled trying to teach them to
his little sister, and her efforts to sing along with him.
He didn’t know what drew him out of the car and into the church.
Inside the door was the crib, with beautifully carved figures
depicting the nativity scene. Mulder stood and admired it for a few
moments before taking a seat right at the back of the church. The
church was lit by candlelight, and festive floral arrangements stood
on wrought iron display stands at either side of the plain altar.
Holly, ivy and Christmas Roses. Again, beautiful in their
simplicity. Smaller versions of the floral arrangements adorned the
ends of the wooden pews. Behind the altar was a large wooden cross,
with its carved figure of Jesus. The congregation was mixed, the old
and the young, couples and families. And then the choir began to
sing “Silent Night.”
It was the sweetest sound Mulder had ever heard. For the first
time, he noticed that the choir was made up entirely of children,
their clear voices filling the air. He’d stumbled into a children’s
carol service, of all things. He looked around him, seeing the proud
expressions on the faces of their parents and grandparents, then
Mulder closed his eyes and listened as they sang, a feeling of peace
settling upon him.
He was still sitting there when everyone had gone home, and the
priest came to snuff out the candles and lock up. He saw the hunched
figure sitting at the back of the church.
“Can I help you?” asked the priest.
Mulder looked up. “No, I... I was lost. I heard the
singing...”
The priest smiled. “The children’s Carol Service. It’s always
a popular event.”
Mulder nodded, but made no move to be on his way. There was
something comforting about being in the church. Not that he was in
any way religious... there was just an indefinable something that
made him feel that he wasn’t alone. That there was someone looking
out for him.
The priest sat down beside him. He sensed that the young man
was troubled. The locking up could wait a while.
“Would you like to talk?”
Mulder looked down at his hands. “I don’t think that you could
help me, Father.”
“Maybe not, but you might feel better if you talked about it.”
Mulder sat up, and stared at the cross for a long time. Then he
took a deep breath.
“I lost my sister.”
“I’m sorry,” said the priest softly.
“Oh... no, I don’t mean she died. She was taken from me... it
was my fault. I was twelve, and she was eight. I’ve been looking
for her ever since. Sometimes I feel like giving up, but I know I
can’t. I know I’ll never give up, not while there’s some hope that
one day I might find her. I have no faith, Father, other than the
faith that I’ll find Samantha one day.”
“Your faith is very strong, I can see that. I can also see that
you find this time of year very difficult.”
Mulder nodded again. “I was sitting in my apartment... I just
had to get out. The loneliness is unbearable at times. I just drove
around and around and ended up here.”
“Why do you think that was?” asked the priest softly.
“I don’t know,” answered Mulder with a shrug. “I saw the tree
outside, and it was so... so beautiful, so simple... and then I heard
the singing. I was drawn in... maybe I was looking for something. I
don’t know.”
“What was it like, sitting here?”
“Peaceful, comforting... I felt as if I was surrounded by love.
I don’t know any of the people that were in the congregation, but
everyone of them said hello and wished me the compliments of the
season.”
“They’re a very friendly and welcoming group of people,” said
the priest. He placed a hand over Mulder’s. “You’re not alone, you
know. There’s always someone watching out for you.”
“I’ve felt that at times,” admitted Mulder. “Even though I have
no beliefs, in the conventional sense.”
“And it’s the strength of your beliefs that will carry you on in
the search for your sister.”
Mulder considered that for a moment, then stood up.
“I should be getting back - I’ve kept you long enough. Thank
you for listening, Father.”
“You’re welcome.” The priest gave him a kindly smile. “A Merry
Christmas to you, and I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Thank you.”
On his way out, Mulder left a twenty dollar donation in the
collection box.
Back in his car, he took one last look at the tall Christmas
tree as he slowly pulled away.

Christmas Day. Mulder rose early and went for his customary
run. When he came back, he had a shower, then called his mother.
The conversation was strained, as usual, and it was a relief when the
call ended. He made himself a coffee, and thought about his visit to
the church the previous night. He’d never experienced anything like
the feeling he’d had while sitting there, listening to the children
sing the carols. He drained his coffee, and decided to pay another
visit. With any luck, he’d be in time for a service. There was
bound to be one on Christmas Day.
Mulder drove up and down the street twice, but he could find no
sign of the church. He double checked that he had the right address
- Arliss Drive. Well, this was Arliss Drive, but there was no church
on the corner. He stopped outside a well kept house a couple of lots
away and decided to make enquiries inside.
Mulder knocked at the front door of the house, decorated with
its festive wreath. He didn’t have to wait long for an answer.
“Hello?” The elegantly dressed woman was wearing an apron.
“Oh, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I was looking for a church
that I thought was on the corner there. I wonder if I have the wrong
block...”
The woman’s face paled, and she clutched the door jamb to steady
herself. When she finally spoke, her voice trembled.
“The church burned down five years ago, during the Children’s
Carol Service on Christmas Eve. Everyone that was in the church was
killed.”

The End

Comments to: jimcaz@dircon.co.uk