SUMMARY: A Christmas miracle, and the promise of another yet
to come. Just so no one is offended, Christian overtones.
Category: X A strongly hinted MSR, but very tame.
Rated: PG
Spoilers: Christmas Carol, Emily
Standard Disclaimer: Thought you could throw us for a loop with
that one, didn't ya, Chris? Well, not a chance. And just to show
what a good sport I am, I won't infringe on your copyright of these
characters. However, I claim the Riveras, Joey, Maria and little
Chewie, as my very own.
The title comes from Amy Grant--a truly wonderful tribute to the
Mother of God.
Further note--I happen to know a 'Jesus' and his nickname is
Chewie, so I'm assuming that is always the case :)
Comments to me vmoseley@fgi.net

Breath of Heaven
A Christmas X File
By Vickie Moseley
vmoseley@fgi.net

Interstate 55, rural Illinois
December 24, 1998
8:35 pm

"It's right here, Scully. Right on the front page," Fox Mulder said
with a smirk toward his partner. For her part, Dana Scully didn't
acknowledge either the statement, or the tabloid that Mulder now
waved just out of her line of sight. She was too intent on keeping
their white Mercury Contour on the icy stretch of highway in the
face of gale force winds and blinding snow.

"Can't see it, Mulder. Guess you'll have to read it to me," Scully
replied dryly.

"OK, it says 'Worst Winter on Record Predicted'. And this one
says that the New Testament predicted that this winter would start
the Apocalypse." He turned the pages, trying to find the
corresponding article.

"I thought Nostradamus predicted that LAST winter was going to
bring the reign of the anti-christ," Scully interjected.

"He did. Can't be right all the time," Mulder noted absently. "Yep,
right here--somewhere in Revelations. C'mon, Scully, you must
have read that sometime."

"Haven't you heard, Mulder? Catholics don't read the Bible," she
shot back with a wry grin. Just then, the tires skid on the ice and
she grabbed the wheel tighter in an effort to keep the car headed in
the right direction.

"Turn into the skid," Mulder instructed, knowing she would do that
automatically, but feeling powerless to do more than watch as they
slid helplessly along the deserted highway.

"We should be off the road," Scully said through gritted teeth.

"Don't say that too loud," Mulder whispered as the car continued
it's slide and was now going down the highway, at 50 miles an
hour, sideways. In the eternity that only comes during moments of
extreme terror, both agents watched helpless as the road seemed to
spin under their tires. Then, in the blink of an eye, they were off the
road into the median, hit one of the burms, and were projected into
the air, where they flew for a good twenty feet before coming down
with a resounding crunch.

It was total silence when Scully found she could assimilate her
environment beyond her own labored breaths. Her hands were still
shaking as she brushed the hair out of her face and assessed the
damage.

In the silence, she began to hear some sounds. The hiss of a broken
radiator finally filtered through the buffeting winds. The groan of
her partner came next.

"Mulder? Mulder, are you all right?" It was a ridiculous question.
Even if they hadn't just gone 'airborne' for 20 feet, chances were
that Mulder would have managed to injure himself when they
crashed into the median. The question was how badly had he been
injured. When no answer was forthcoming, she unbuckled her
seatbelt and leaned over to check him.

"SHIT!" she shouted in the still air. Her right wrist was screaming
almost as loudly as she was herself. Somewhere between the road
and the landing, she must have broken her wrist. She held it close
to her body, panting through the tears that had erupted from her
eyes. Only when Mulder moaned again was she able to think past
the pain that radiated in both directions, down to her fingertips and
up to her shoulder.

"Mulder," she panted. "Mulder, wake up. How badly are you
hurt?" She hated the panic in her voice, but it wouldn't go away.
If they were both hurt, they could be in real trouble.

"Ahhhhhh," Mulder straightened up from where he hit the
windshield. In the green light of the dashboard, she could see blood
flowing from a cut somewhere above his left eye.

"Easy. Take it easy," she cooed, reaching over with her left hand
to help him back against the seat. "You've hit your head."

"That might account for the pain," he mumbled. He blinked, then
blinked again. "Everything's blurry," he informed her.

"You probably have a concussion. Why weren't you wearing your
seatbelt?" she demanded, relieved enough to be angry at him.

"I was. Shoulder strap didn't catch," he rasped, taking a few deep
breaths. He noticed how she was holding her wrist. "What did you
do? What's wrong with your arm?"

"I think I might have broken my wrist," she admitted.

He started to frown, but it hurt, so he held his face expressionless.
"Let me see. Maybe it's just sprained. They can hurt as bad as a
break," he advised. He reached over to run a hand over her arm.

"Mulder, I know the difference between--SHIT SHIT SHIT!!!" she
shouted again.

He grimaced, immediately apologetic and gently laid her arm in her
lap. "Sorry. And I think you're right. It's broken."

Scully glared at him. "Thank you, Dr. Welby," she hissed.

She watched him, her face openly expressing her curiosity, as he
unknotted his tie and then reknotted it at the end, slipping it over
her neck and around her shoulder. In a second, her wrist was
resting snugly in a brilliantly colored sling of pure silk. "Better?" he
asked.

She couldn't stop the smile that came from the deepest part of her
being. "Much," she answered. "Now, let me look at that cut."

He waved her off. "It's not my first conk on the head, Scully.
Doubt it will be the last. I'm OK. Honest."

"You're bleeding," she pointed out.

He dug around in his back pocket and produced a white
handkerchief. "Not even used," he assured her and she took it left
handed and wiped at the blood on his forehead.

"It's not that deep, but I wish I could get a better look at your eyes.
I can't see a thing in this light." She then turned her attention to
the winter landscape outside. "We can't stay here."

"We have to, Scully. Rule number one in winter driving--don't go
wandering off in a blizzard. We'll be safe until the State Police find
us."

"They aren't going to find us, Mulder--not for a while. This
highway was closed, remember? We aren't even supposed to be
out here."

"You're the one who wanted to get home tonight," Mulder shot
back, and immediately regretted it. Scully had wanted to get back.
It was Christmas Eve and she had wanted desperately to spend the
night with her family. Bill and Tara were flying in with Scully's
nephew, little Matthew. In two days, Matthew would be one year
old. And Emily would have been gone for one year.

Mulder brushed those thoughts from his mind. Now was not the
time. There were more immediate concerns. "Scully. We should
stay with the car."

"Look," she directed and pointed to a sign just a few feet from
where the car had landed. Mulder squinted out the window, but
there was no way he was going to admit that he couldn't make out
the sign that was only ten feet from his door.

"So?" he covered and closed his eyes to keep the sign from splitting
and dancing in front of his eyes.

"Rest Area--This Exit," she read. "C'mon. We can get there."

"Scully--if we get turned around . . ."

"Mulder," Scully said, opening the door and standing. "I can see it.
It's right over there. C'mon. We'll be warmer there. And they
probably have vending machines."

Her partner would not be persuaded.

"OK, Mulder, here's the long and the short of it. I have to pee. I
refuse to do that squatting at the side of a road in the middle of a
blizzard. Unless you want me to--"

"Should we take the bags or leave them here?" Mulder asked,
cutting her off before she could continue the threat.

"Leave 'em," she smiled. "And let me help you."

It took longer than either of them thought possible to battle through
the wall of snow and wind. Mulder tried to keep Scully behind him,
providing her a little shelter from the pounding forces of nature, but
he kept going off course, stumbling over the uneven earth and
almost falling. Scully knew better than to try and talk to him--he
couldn't hear her over the wind and he'd only ignore her efforts to
get him to let her lead. Finally, when he'd turned them away from
the rest area building, she fought her way in front and pulled him
the rest of the way to safety.

The brick structure was lighted, warm and dry. A bank of vending
machines stood sentinel over the various maps and travel brochures.
A plaque on the wall proclaimed this 'Coal City Rest Area', and
further informed them that it was completed in 1989, and that
James R. Thompson, was the Governor of the state back then.
Women's restrooms were to the left, Men's to the right. Phones
were across the room from the vending machines and the vast
expanse of floor in the middle of the room was shiny and almost
inviting. The only acknowledgment of the season was a four foot
tall artificial Christmas tree set in the floor to ceiling window to the
left of the glass double doors, decorated with red satin balls and
strung with popcorn--probably from one of the packages in the
vending machines.

"I believe you needed to 'go'," Mulder rasped out when they'd
finally gotten warm enough to speak. He pointed toward the
restroom doors.

Scully looked at him curiously for a moment, then remembered her
little ploy. She knew they would be safer here, it was all a matter
of getting Mulder to see it her way. Now she had to cover her
story or he would find out she'd tricked him. "Oh, yeah, right.
Thanks. See what there is for dinner?"

In the restroom, she had a chance to remove her arm from the sling
and take a look. The wrist was swollen to twice it's size and the
skin was already showing the bruising that had resulted. She
looked around, hoping to find something to wrap it with, but there
was nothing--only sinks and air dryers. "Can't exactly use toilet
paper to bind a break," she muttered to herself in the mirror. She
replaced the sling, adjusting it so that the wrist was above her heart,
and hopefully would reduce the swelling. At least then, it didn't
hurt as much.

When she returned, Mulder was sitting on the floor, surrounded by
bubble packaging and cups of steaming liquid and squinting at the
label on a package of chips. He smiled at her as she sat down
beside him. "Well, we have cappuccino, regular and decaf coffee,
hot cocoa--but no soup. I was too cold to think about the soft
drinks, but there's plenty of them, too. Then there's bagel
chips--onion and the cinnamon kind, cheetos, pretzel sticks, cheese
popcorn, sour cream and onion potato chips, chocolate chip
cookies, rice krispie treats, and I thought I'd let you look over the
various candy bars--there were too many of them to decide."

She smiled at him in amusement. "Did you buy ONE of everything,
Mulder?"

"Just about," he answered with a grin. "Lunch was a little light."
He closed his eyes and leaned back against the cinderblock wall.
"Maybe that was a good thing," he mumbled.

Scully was already in action. "Lean over here, I want to take a look
at your head," she ordered. He knew better than to disobey her
'doctor voice', so he did as she directed.

"Are you dizzy?" He nodded. "Vision still blurry?" He shrugged.
"Feeling sick--" He bolted for the Men's Room door.

She hesitated only a moment at the door--they were all alone in this
oasis, after all. She found him kneeling in one of the stalls. He held
up his hand to stop her approach.

"False alarm," he told her, then laid his head down on his other arm.

"You have a concussion," she said and he grunted.

"Took you what--ten years of medical school to make that
determination, Agent Scully?" he growled. "Oh, god, I really don't
feel good," he added, more to himself than to her.

"Come on, Mulder," she said, pulling at his arm with her left hand.
"It's colder in here than in the other room. And I don't want you
falling asleep."

"Are you implying that I _could_ fall asleep in a toilet, Scully?" he
asked her, reaching for whatever humor might improve the
situation.

"Remember, I've seen your choice of motels, Mulder," she shot
back and was happy that at least he could still grin at her. She
helped him into the other room and settled him back amid their
'dinner'.

Scully searched the vending machines until she found one that
contained ginger ale. She deposited the correct change and brought
the can back to her partner. "Drink this," she advised. He screwed
up his face into a grimace, but did as he was told. After the first
few swallows, it seemed to help. "Better?" she asked.

"Much," he told her, giving her a smile. "Scully, I'm really sorry
about messing up your plans for tonight--"

Now it was her turn to cut him off with a wave. "Occupational
hazard, Mulder. I should have known better than to make plans. If
I really wanted to be home, I would have said no to this little trek
to the Midwest in the first place. It's OK, don't worry about it."

"But I know how much you wanted to be there--to see Matthew,"
he said, his eyes conveying his apology. He watched as her eyes
darkened at the sound of her youngest godson's name. "He's
walking already, huh?" he asked, trying to divert her attention to
something happier.

She smiled sadly. "Yeah, apparently. And into everything,
according to Tara. Bill was walking before he was one year old,
too, Mom tells me. I think Charlie was the late bloomer in the
family--he was almost fourteen months."

"Sam started walking late. She was about fourteen months, too. I
thought girls started walking earlier than boys--"

"I wouldn't know," Scully said abruptly and stood up to examine
the soft drink selection more closely. Mulder kicked himself
mentally, he shouldn't have brought up the subject of Christmas in
the first place and then moving the discussion to children was only
rubbing salt in the still open wound. "I'm sorry, Scully," he
whispered.

It had been a year, and his partner was still in mourning. Not so
much for the little girl, Emily, although it was grief that shadowed
her memories of the child. Scully had known of Emily's existence
for only a few days before the child died. No, Scully was still
mourning for what Emily was to her--her only chance to have a
child of her own. Her only chance to be a mother. Mulder knew
that was something Scully hid from him, her desire to have a normal
life--a house in the 'burbs with a minivan and a dog and kids and a
husband who worked normal hours and commuted to work on the
Metro. All that was denied to her because of her relationship, her
partnership with him. I'd give it to you if I could, Scully, he vowed
to her silently. You know I'd give it to you if I could.

She'd bought a can of diet cola and was now staring at the lonely
little tree. He could see her chin start to tremble and knew he'd
better do something fast. "So, what did Santa bring me?" he asked,
a bit overly cheerful, but hoping that the diversion would work.

She smiled at him. "Santa left your present in my hall closet," she
replied.

"So, what _would_ I be opening, if we were anywhere near your
hall closet?" he asked again.

"Uh huh. I'm not telling. What did Santa bring me?" she turned
the question back at him.

"A yacht," he said, in all seriousness.

"A yacht?" she laughed.

"Yeah, just like the one Ivana Trump got. Only bigger," he
continued. "With more flags," he added his eyes twinkling. "Now,
what did I get?"

She was almost laughing now and she couldn't resist. "A Lear jet,"
she replied. "No, I'm sorry--a 747. Outfitted like Air Force One."

"With a whirlpool?" he shot back.

"Of course. And a minibar in the stateroom," she said lightly.
"And a 31 inch TV/VCR combo."

"Your yacht has a television _wall_," he deadpanned.

"Can't wait to see it," she said with a grin.

"Me neither. Save the taxpayers a load of bucks in car rentals and
plane fare. We can fly to all the places we need to go in my plane,
or sail to them in your yacht."

"Sounds good to me," she said, coming over to sit next to him. He
was leaning back, his eyes drifting shut. "Mulder. Don't fall--"

"--asleep, I know the routine, Dr. Scully," he said, opening his eyes.
"I'm OK, Scully. I promise, on my plane and your yacht, not to slip
into a coma on you--OK?" He pulled her closer to him, putting his
arm around her shoulder, but being careful not to bump her wrist.
"How's it feeling? Hurt bad?" His eyes were dark with his
concern.

She shook her head. "It's not that bad, really. I think we've finally
found a useful purpose for those monstrosities you wear around
your neck," she grinned.

"You dis-ing my ties again, Scully," he growled in mock offense.

"I love your ties, Mulder. Somedays they're the funniest thing I
see," she grinned at him. They settled into a companionable silence
and Scully fought the yawns that were coming with more frequency
than she wanted.

"Take a nap, Scully. I'm not tired, really. I'll be fine," Mulder
assured her.

"No, Mulder--I don't want to," she protested.

"Scully, don't make me get out my gun," he growled low, but with
smiling eyes. "Get some sleep. You need it and I'll be fine, I
promise."

She didn't want to admit it to him, but she was suddenly very
sleepy. "Wake me up in an hour--I want to check your head
again," she made him promise and then snuggled into the crook of
his arm and fell fast asleep.

end of part one

*****

Breath of Heaven (2/2)
by Vickie Moseley
vmoseley@fgi.net

"Scully. C'mon, Scully, up and atta 'em," Mulder's voice broke
through the fog of her dream. "We've got company."

Scully's eyes flew open at that and she rubbed the sleep out of them
with her left fist, straining to get them to focus. They were still in
the rest stop, but they were no longer alone.

Before her sat a young man, no older than twenty. He was dark
haired, with a full beard. A stocking cap was pulled down over his
almost shoulder length hair. He was dressed in an old worn parka
and blue jeans, a pair of Converse All Stars on his feet. He looked
at Scully with something very like terror in his eyes. When Scully
looked at the person next to him, she could understand that terror.

Sitting next to the boy was a younger girl--still a teen ager. She
had a dove-like face, soft brown eyes, though now they were
clouded by pain. She was similarly dressed, but her parka was
unzipped and displayed her prominently bulging middle. Scully
guessed she was nine months pregnant--due any day. When the
girl's facial features contorted and she let out a low wail, Scully
revised that thought--the girl was in labor--now!

"I invited some guests to join us. Looks like they might bring along
another one any minute now," Mulder tried to joke, but one look at
her partner, and Scully realized that the boy was not the only one in
the room about to panic. Her strong, capable partner was close to
losing it himself. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. "I
called the State Police right after these two showed up at the door.
They said it would be morning at the earliest before help can get
through to us." Scully nodded and then looked over to the two
kids. Mulder waved at them.

"This is Joey Rivera and his wife, Maria. Joey, Maria, this is Dana
Scully--she's a doctor. And you'll love this, Scully. They're on
their way to Bethlehem." Mulder chuckled for a second at the look
on her face. "Bethlehem--Pennsylvania. Joey has a job waiting for
him there. Maria isn't due for another two weeks, but it looks like
the baby has other ideas. Kids today--so impatient, huh?" he added
with a shrug.

"How far apart are the contractions?" Scully asked, all business.

"About five minutes," Joey spoke up. "Maria's water broke in the
car. We thought we could make it to Pontiac. There's a hospital
there. We stopped in Towanda, a ways back, but couldn't get into
town. The road was impassable."

"Well, you're in luck, Joey, Maria. I've delivered a couple of
babies," Scully said with a reassuring smile. Mulder shot her a
questioning look, which she chose to ignore completely. "Let's get
you comfortable and see how things are going, shall we?" she said
to Maria. The girl nodded silently, but the look of fear was fading
from her eyes. "Mulder, see what you can find around here that we
can use. And have Joey help you."

Mulder got up to comply, but Joey seemed hesitant to leave Maria.
"It's OK, Joey. Dana's a good doctor--she's treated me plenty of
times."

"Were you ever having a baby?" the younger man shot back in
anger, then his eyes softened. "Sorry, I'm just--" He stopped
before his words could betray him. "I'm a little worried," he
amended himself.

"We all are, but it's gonna be all right," Mulder assured him. He
took the boy's arm and pulled him up. "Besides, I can't see that
great right now--lost my glasses," he lied, "and I'd probably come
back with a mop and a bucket when we need towels and blankets."

As he walked past Scully, she caught his arm. "Are you OK?" she
asked in a whisper.

His eyes were a little too bright for her liking and he wasn't
focusing on her face yet, but he gave her a determined smile. "You
just worry about Maria--I'm fine," he told her and gave her a wink.
She went back to work and he and Joey went to find towels and
blankets.

After some clumsy attempts, Mulder was able to pick the lock on
the supply closet, and Joey gave him some nervous looks while he
was doing it. "So, what line of work are you in?" Mulder asked,
figuring small talk would help the situation.

"I'm in construction. I'm a framer," Joey replied. Inside the supply
closet the two found several clean rags and a pile of clean, if slightly
threadbare blankets. Joey grabbed the blankets and Mulder took as
many of the rags as he could carry. "What do you do?" Joey asked,
eyeing Mulder's holster, which was clearly showing through the
opening in his suit jacket.

Mulder looked down to follow Joey's gaze and smiled. "I'm an
FBI agent. Both of us are, actually. I can show you my badge--"

Joey flashed him a relieved smile. "No, that's all right. It's not
something anybody would lie about," he said lightly. "I mean--not
to be disrespectful or nothin'--you just kinda look--well, you
know," he hastened to add.

Now it was Mulder's turn to smile. "No offense taken."

When they returned to the main room, Scully had helped Maria out
of her coat and was using Maria's coat and her own to make a
pallet on the floor. "I need your coats, guys," she told them and
both of them handed them over. "Mulder, can I speak with you a
moment," she said, her eyes wide.

Scully led him to the farthest corner of the room, well out of ear
shot. "Just keep smiling all the time we're talking, OK?" she said
with a forced grin. He immediately smiled and nodded.

"It's bad, isn't it?" he asked, his voice completely at odds with his
carefree expression.

"The baby is breach," Scully informed him. "And it's not going to
wait till morning."

"Then do what you need to do," he replied. "Don't you do
c-sections or something when that happens?"

"Yes, Mulder, in a hospital. This is not a hospital. And I have
nothing to perform surgery--that Swiss Army pen knife you gave
me just will not work in this situation," she said, her smiled faltering
for just a second before she pasted it back in place.

"I'm open for suggestions," Mulder hissed.

"We're going to have to turn the baby," Scully said, looking
directly into his eyes. She wasn't smiling now, this was serious.

"I really hope you're using the Royal 'We' in that sentence, Scully,"
he said, equally serious.

"Mulder--look at me!" she hissed, hooking the thumb of her left
hand in the tie/makeshift sling on her shoulder. He tried, but it was
obviously not a clear picture. "OK, bad idea. Let me spell it out
for you. I can't do a thing with this arm. I have very little strength
in my left arm, definitely not enough to turn a baby and I would
have absolutely no leverage. Besides, your arms--"

"Stop right there!" he commanded as forcefully as his whispered
voice would allow. "You better not even think of trying that 'your
arms are longer' shit with me again, Scully, because the last time
was the _last time_ that one worked on me! That time I pulled up
the disembodied head of Leonard Betts. There is no telling what
could happen this time! Scully, I don't want to press the point, but
my eyesight is for shit right now. I'm not in any shape to help you
in this."

"Mulder, that girl needs help," Scully seethed. "She turned 17 her
last birthday. She could be _your_ daughter, Mulder--if you got
sloppy at your high school graduation party." She watched a full
array of emotions play across his face. "If we don't help her, Maria
and the baby could both die--it's that simple."

"You don't know what you're asking here, Scully," his voice had
dropped so low she had to strain to hear it.

She took him by the arm and then reached up to bring his face so
that he was looking directly at her. "Yes, I do. Mulder, you are
the best person I know for this. You are calm under pressure. You
are sure in your movements. I will tell you what you need to do,
I'll be your eyes. You be my hands. We'll approach this as
team--something we're good at. I trust you, Mulder. You'll do
everything I say exactly when I say it and everything will be fine,"
she finished, giving him a smile that wasn't forced--a gentle smile,
just for him.

He closed his eyes, and for a long moment, she thought he'd refuse.
Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at her, the gold flecks in his
brown eyes appearing as a fire reflecting back at her. "On one
condition," he said evenly.

"Name it," she answered.

"When it's over, and they're safe, I get to pass out. And you don't
tell me I can't fall asleep, either."

She had to bite her lip hard to keep from laughing in his face.
"Done," she said and turned to go back to Maria and Joey. He
grabbed her elbow before she could get very far.

"Scully," he said, his voice still very quiet. "Not to cast dispersions
or anything, but exactly how many babies _have_ you delivered?"

She looked at him, seeing in his eyes nothing but trust, and hope.
"Five, Mulder. And one of them was breach."

"It turned out all right?" he asked, but it was more of a statement.

"I think she's in third grade about now," Scully said confidently.

"Let's do it," Mulder replied, and now his voice held the same
confidence her's did.

Scully sat down with Joey and Maria and explained what was
happening. Joey went white as a sheet, but remained silent. Maria
wasn't talking much, either, just holding Joey's hand with a grip
that could crush granite. After assuring them both that everything
would be all right, the doctor and her 'assistant' went to scrub up.

"Put the water on hot, full force, and wash for no less than five
minutes, Mulder," Scully directed. "Then hit the button on the
dryer with your elbow--not your hands. When you're finished, kick
the door with your foot. Joey can open it for you so you don't
have to touch the knob. Just try not to touch anything," she
directed.

"Is this how Anthony Edwards started?" he deadpanned and the
look she gave him only made him smile all the more. "See you in
delivery, Dr. Scully," he called over his shoulder.

"And people always ask me why I went into pathology," she
sneered and pushed open the Women's restroom door.

It had been thirty minutes of pushing and they hadn't gotten any
farther than when they started. Mulder was extremely relieved
when Scully told him that he'd be pushing _on the outside_ of
Maria's stomach, not the inside. Even so, he knew it was hurting
her and Scully could see his eyes well up everytime she directed him
to try again. Not to mention the constant leaning over was turning
his face an interesting shade of pale green. Maria was being a little
trooper, but she was starting to fade. Scully wasn't sure which of
the two of them, Mulder or Maria, was likely to give up on her
first. It turned out to be Joey.

"Look, this isn't working," Joey said in exasperation.

"Joey, it takes time," Scully advised him. "We have to be patient."

"But it's hurting her!" he cried again. "I don't want her hurt
anymore!"

Mulder pushed back on his heels, panting a minute. "Time out," he
told Scully. "Joey, let's get some more of those rags out of the
closet."

Scully had no idea what went on in the closet, but when the two
men returned, Joey was wiping his nose on his sleeve, with a
renewed determination in his eyes. Mulder looked a little misty
eyed, too, but he nodded to Scully and indicated that they were
ready to take up the fight again. Scully gave him a smile and Maria
seemed to relax a little when Joey took up his place holding her in
his arms.

"This time, we're going to wait until the next contraction, and use
the force of the muscles to our advantage," Scully advised Mulder.
He kneeled next to Maria, his hands gently on the sides of her
stomach, ready for the signal to push. "Here we go," Scully said,
and everyone held their breath, as Mulder tried once more to get
the baby in a head down position.

"Please, God, let this work," Scully prayed just under her breath
and almost as the thought left her lips, the baby seemed to roll
under Mulder's hands and shifted into perfect position. It shocked
Mulder so much that he was rocked back on his backside. Joey
laughed out loud and even Maria giggled a little at his antics.

"Good work, Dr. Mulder," Scully congratulated him.

"Wait till they get my bill," Mulder teased and got another giggle
from Maria. It was music to their ears.

The night was far from over, and the contractions were now
stronger and closer together. Scully watched Joey fight the panic
he had to be feeling, and ached for Maria, who took each new
contraction with a strength of will that seemed infinite. After about
an hour, Maria finally spoke.

"Dana, I have to . . . it feels like I have to--" she looked over at
Mulder, embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

"That's the urge to push, Maria, and it's perfectly normal," Scully
assured her with a smile. "But we might not be ready for that part,
yet. Mulder, I think you and Joey might be a bit more comfortable
getting us some cold drinks right about now while I check and see
how far we've progressed."

Both men were grateful for the distraction. In just a few minutes,
Scully called them back.

"She's fully dialated. I'm gonna let her push. Now, Mulder, you're
going to have to come down here and give me a hand--I can't do
this as a lefty."

Mulder quickly shifted so that he was almost sitting in Scully's lap.
On the next contraction, Maria pushed with all her might.

"Great job, sweetie," Scully crooned. "A few more like that, and
we'll have to get a table for five at breakfast." Joey gave Maria's
shoulders a squeeze and whispered something in her ear. She
smiled up at him, eyes full of love. It brought tears that Scully
quickly wiped away, but not before Mulder saw them and nodded
in agreement.

Five more good pushes and the baby's head crowned. Scully
moved aside and let Mulder take center stage. She thought briefly
about letting Joey do the honors, but she could see that he had his
hands full right where he was with Maria in his arms. On the next
push, the head crowned and a look of pure amazement came over
Mulder. He seemed almost to be in a trance, fixated on the tiny
crown of dark wet curls peeking out at him.

Another push and the head was free. Scully started to direct him,
but Mulder instinctively supported the head, grasping the shoulder
that came next and finally, after a terrific push, the rest of the tiny
infant. Tears were running down her partner's cheeks, but Scully
was having a hard time seeing them through her own. All four of
them were grinning like idiots.

"Thank God," Joey said, laughing and crying at once. Then he
leaned down and kissed Maria, who was laughing and crying as
well. "Thank God," he said again.

"I can second that," Scully said, helping Mulder wrap the baby boy
in a clean, white towel. She looked over at Mulder for a moment,
seeing the look of rapture in his eyes, and smiled at him. "You're
pretty darned good at this, partner."

He looked up at her, his eyes sparkling. "I can't believe it, Scully.
He's so tiny. He's so beautiful. I just can't believe I helped in this.
I think I'm dreaming."

"You won't when the dry cleaners can't get the blood out of that
shirt," Scully joked, but she too was having a hard time keeping her
emotions under control. It was a miracle, and she'd been part of it.
It was a wonderful feeling, and yet, it left her with an incredible
ache in the very pit of her stomach. This is Maria and Joey's
miracle, she thought. I won't get a miracle like this--ever. She
wondered sadly if Mulder ever would, either. The two of them
were destined to be alone, together, but still alone--forever.

She tamped down those feelings angrily. This wasn't the time or
the place. Smiling through her tears, she helped Maria get
comfortable, wrapping the girl and the baby in the blankets.

"So, what are you naming this big guy?" Mulder asked, having just
bought a soft drink and a bag of cheetos for the proud new father.

"We were going to name him after Maria's father. His name would
be Jesus Rivera." Joey pronounced the name Ya-sus, but Mulder
sputtered on his coffee just the same at the coincidence. Joey
didn't seem to notice. "But now, well, how about Fox Dana
Rivera?" he asked Maria.

"Ahhh, I think the kid would be happier being named after his
grandfather--take my word for it," Mulder quickly intervened.

"Then Chewie it is," Joey said and Maria nodded in contended
agreement.

After tending to mother, father and son, Scully found Mulder
huddled up against the wall near the phones. He looked absolutely
worn out.

"Hey, how are you doing?" she asked.

"You promised I could pass out," he whined. "I tried, but I can't
get my eyes to cooperate. They just won't stay closed."

"They will, just give yourself a minute to relax." She pulled his face
closer so she could look into his eyes. "How's the head?"

"It's down to a 'Skinner just read my expense report' sized
headache, actually," he admitted.

"That's the euphoria that hits when you've fought a battle and
won," Scully told him, smiling. "It will wear off before too long
and your head will start to pound. But I don't see why you
shouldn't be able to fall asleep. I'll keep watch--you need some
rest."

"You're as tired as I am--you have to be," Mulder objected.

"Nah, I'm on an adrenaline high that won't go away for a while.
I've delivered babies before, remember. I'll be circling the planet
for several hours. Go ahead, before I change my mind and make
you stay awake."

Mulder slid down the wall without further protest and using his suit
jacket as a pillow, closed his eyes. In a few moments, she heard his
shallow breathing--he was already asleep. By the time she got back
to check on the other three, Joey had joined Mulder in dreamland.

Maria sat quietly crooning a lullaby to the little boy in her arms.
Scully's arms suddenly felt leaden, aching deep in her bones. She
swallowed back bitter tears. Then Maria looked up and into her
eyes.

"Dana," she said softly. "You should know by now that miracles
do happen." The voice wasn't that of a frightened seventeen year
old girl who had just given birth. It sounded older, and much wiser.

"I can't have this miracle, Maria. It's not possible. Not for me,"
Dana sobbed, no longer able to hold back her grief.

Maria reached out and touched her cheek. "Oh, but it is, my child.
It will be. You have to have faith. Don't place your trust in mere
mortals, Dana. Put your faith in God and all things are
possible--even the extremes of possibilities."

Scully swallowed again, and wiped at her tears. As her eyes
cleared, it appeared that Maria's face had changed. It was familiar,
a face she'd seen a thousand times, smiling down on her from a
marble altar in a church many miles away. "Mary?" Scully gasped.

Mary nodded. "My son always keeps his promises, Dana," she
smiled. "Remember my cousin, Elizabeth. She was told she'd
never have children and she gave birth to John the Baptist. Never
give up hope. One day, you too will have a miracle sleeping in your
arms." She then looked over to where Mulder was sleeping. "A
miracle for both of you," she added with a smile.

It was Scully's turn to laugh and cry at once. When she wiped her
eyes again, the young girl was back, looking at her strangely. "Dr.
Scully? Are you all right?" she asked.

Scully blinked and then nodded. "I'm fine," she answered. "Just a
little tired. I think it's time all of us got a little shut eye, don't
you?"

Maria smiled and nodded, snuggling down into the blankets, baby
Chewie wrapped in her arms, Joey with his arms around them both.
Scully watched the three of them, sleeping so peacefully. She
turned her gaze over to her partner and smiled. Quietly, so as not
to wake anyone, she moved over next to him and settled down
beside him. Sleep came quickly.

It was seven in the morning when the four adults awoke to the
sounds of a hungry infant and the drone of snow plows outside
their door. The State Police arrived about ten minutes later, and
two officers helped Maria and the baby into the back of the squad
car, with Joey bringing up the rear. Maria reached out and kissed
Dana and Mulder, thanking them both for all they'd done. Joey at
first stuck out his hand, but ended up taking Mulder into a fierce
bear hug. "I'll never forget what you did, sir. Never."

Mulder wiped at his eyes again, not for the first time that morning.
"Just give us a call in 20 years. Scully'll be Director by then and
we'll get Chewie into the Academy--maybe he can work on the X
Files." Joey looked like he was about to ask what that entailed
when the officer informed them that they were expected at the
hospital in Pontiac. A second squad car agreed to take the two
agents to a small clinic, in Towanda, which was closer.

It was close to noon before they got Scully's wrist cast and in a
sling. Mulder was diagnosed with a mild concussion and told to
take it easy on the trip home. Although both of them tried, neither
of them could find out what had happened to the Riveras.

One of the troopers dropped them off outside another car rental
agency--the only one in fifty miles that was open on Christmas Day.
They were back on the road before one in the afternoon.

Mulder was at the wheel and Scully was on her cell phone. He
wasn't really listening to the conversation, his thoughts were still
back with the Riveras and the events of the night before. Finally,
what she was saying broke through the mist of his thoughts.

"Yes, I'm sure of the name. R-I-V-E-R-A. A woman and a
newborn. Yes, last night--at the rest stop. Coal City. The Illinois
State Police picked them up about eight this morning and drove
them to your facility. You are the only hospital in Pontiac, aren't
you? Well, did anyone matching that description arrive at your
maternity ward this morning? All right. Yes, thank you. And a
Merry Christmas to you, too." She disconnected the line and put
her phone back in her pocket, a frown on her face.

"What did they say?" Mulder asked.

"They said that no one has been admitted this morning. No mother,
no baby. It's been absolutely quiet since midnight." She was
chewing on her lower lip and Mulder could tell she was upset.

"Scully, if you need evidence--I have a bloody shirt in my duffel bag
that should prove our story," he said after a moment's thought.

"No, Mulder. That's all right. Joey probably just convinced the
troopers that they wanted to get on to Bethlehem. I'm sure they're
all fine."

He kept his eyes on the road, but shot her a furtive glance. "Scully,
I know how much that must have hurt--seeing Maria and the
baby--"

She turned toward him and put her hand on his arm. "It's all right,
Mulder. By now, we should start figuring out that miracles do
happen. Even in the most extreme possibility. Even to us." She
graced him with a smile that rivaled Maria's after giving birth.

"I can't argue with that, Scully," he told her, and turned his
attention to getting them home.

the end.
Vickie

Season's Greetings
Peace and Joy