Snowballs and sleigh bells. Snowballs and sleigh bells and wintry tales - oh no.

Scully hated the cold. It hadn't always been so. Mulder remembered stories on long stakeouts of her childhood's snowy pleasures.

But now, after their little jaunt to Antarctica, Scully hated the cold with an intensity usually reserved for his more out-there cases, the tabloid ones he discovered himself.

She even hated ice skating, despite one successful venture. Mulder remembered that, at the time, he'd considered asking Scully again - but he'd let it go. It was their way. Though lately, he mused, given a choice between their way or the highway, the highway to some different choices was looking mighty attractive.

Mulder paused as he pulled on gloves, protection against a DC snowfall. Gloves and maybe a hat, but last time he'd been outside with Scully on a case she had worn layers, black boots, and a fur toque he'd laughed at until a glare warned him to stop.

Time to wrestle that polar bear to the ground, Mulder decided. Time to help Scully get over it. The psychologist in Mulder shook hands with his inner schemer, and a plan was hatched. It was time to help Scully find the fun in winter again, and he was just the man to do it.

The early afternoon sun picked out diamond specks in the snow covering the small patch of lawn in front of Scully's building. As he exited his car, Mulder heard the mush of car tires passing and a chorus of loud shouts from a group of teens nearby. Snowball fight in progress. Mulder was tempted to change his plans as he pictured the exhilaration of a toe to toe battle with Scully at his side, victorious over the unruly mob. But no. He was there to ease Scully into winter, so he'd best start small.

He bounded up the steps, knocked on Scully's door, and smiled when she opened it with raised eyebrow and a white cable knit sweater hanging over her wrists and halfway down her legs.

"Doin' anything?" Mulder asked.

"Yes."

"What? Cooking something?" He leaned around Scully and sniffed.

Scully shook her head. "Come in. To what do I owe this visit?"

"Well, I was in the neighbourhood-"

"Uh huh." The eyebrow again.

Mulder shrugged his shoulders. "And I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk."

"It's freezing out, Mulder. We won't be able to stroll around and smell the roses for about, oh, three to four months."

"How about a snowman then? An alien masterpiece. I was going to construct the creature when a pack of wild dogs tore up my apartment's yard. You know what they say about yellow snow."

Scully turned and sat on the sofa.

He tried his Elvis voice, "Celebrate winter, Miz Scul-lay?"

But when he gazed into Scully's pensive face, Mulder realized that it was time to let his notion go.

"Right then," Mulder said. "You're a details person. Find me a carrot and some lumps of coal."

He was relieved to see the ghost of a smile as Scully wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

"Lumps of coal, lumps of coal - why I do believe I have the very thing for your alien snowman." She held up a plastic bag of brussel sprouts.

"Yuck. You eat that stuff?"

"Anytime you want to give them a try..."

"Nope. Carrot?"

Scully smirked as she handed him a wilted celery stalk.

Mulder drew it under his nose and sniffed, then waggled it like a Groucho Marx cigar. "Watch yourself outside, Scully. The celery will be stalking."

"I'd better keep inside surveillance, then."

Mulder pocketed the vegetables and exited the building, began rolling the snowman and placed the pieces smack dab under Scully's window. He made sure to look up at appropriate times and wave, exaggerated flexing his muscles as he placed the snowman sections one atop the other.

Scully watched from the other side of her bay window glass, steam wafting from a drink she firmly clutched in one hand. She set down the cup and mimed clapping when Mulder added the eyes and celery nose, which drooped in a pleasingly alien proboscis manner.

He bowed low and set off for home. To think.

Affection wasn't helping. Maybe nothing could help. If she had a phobia, intensive psychotherapy was out of the question, given that no one would believe the origin of her fear. Mulder's jaw clenched when he realized that Scully - who had once been so indubitably a part of the mainstream - had now lost even that cold comfort. He grimaced at his own bad joke.

But if the direct approach didn't work, Mulder decided, maybe it was time to think outside the icebox.

He called the Gunmen for some research help, a conversation filled with their obvious amusement until he felt the need to protest. "Not for me, dammit, so stop the laughing."

A week later, DC's cold snap finally snapped. Mulder drove over to pick Scully up for a case. When she came to the door, he slipped her a stiff green envelope.

"What's this?"

"For you. To celebrate our snowman's anniversary."

It was a spa coupon, redeemable for one thalassotherapy bath. Scully nodded, smiling, and Mulder fancied that she was already imagining the relaxation of a steaming hydro-tub.

"My kind of winter celebration, Mulder. Indoors."



***

Notes:

MaybeAmanda's beta is my chicken soup. As always, thanks.

"In February it will be
My snowman's anniversary."
- Maurice Sendak