06x06 - How the Ghosts Stole Christmas

[bunniefuu]

Have yourself a merry little Christmas Let yourself be light From now on our troubles will be out of sight I almost gave up on you. Sorry.

Checkout lines are worse than rush hour on the 95.

If I heard "Silent Night" one more time, I was gonna start taking hostages.

What are we doing here? Stakeout.

On Christmas Eve? It's an important date.

No kidding. Important to why we're here.

Turn off your car and I'll fill you in on the details.

Mulder, I've got wrapping to do. It's the night before Christmas.

Oh.

Let's hear it. Give me the details.

If you've got Christmas stuff to do...

Mulder, I drove all the way out here. I might as well know why.

I just thought you'd be more... curious.

Who lives in the house? No one, Who are we staking out? The former occupants.

They've come back? That's the story.

I see.

The dark gothic manor, the omnipresent low fog hugging the thicket of overgrowth...

Wait. Is that a hound I hear baying out in the moors?

No, actually that was a left-cheek sneak.

Tell me you didn't call me out here on Christmas Eve to go ghost-busting with you.

They're called apparitions. Call it what you want.

I've got holiday cheer to spread.

I've got a family roll call under the tree at 6 a.m.

I'll make it fast. I'll just give you the details. OK.

Christmas 1917.

It was a time of dark, dark despair.

American soldiers were dying at an ungodly rate in w*r-torn Europe, while at home a deadly strain of the flu virus att*cked young and old alike.

Tragedy visited every doorstep.

Hopelessness set in with every man, woman and child.

It was a time of dark, dark despair.

You said that.

But here at 1501 Larkspur Lane, for a pair of star-crossed lovers tragedy came not from w*r or pestilence, not by the boot heel of the bombardier, but by their own innocent hand.

Go on. His name was Maurice.

He was a brooding but heroic young man, beloved of Lyda, a sublime beauty with a light that followed her wherever she went.

They were like two angels from heaven whom the gods could not protect from the horrors being visited upon this cold, grey earth.

And what happened to them?

Driven by a tragic fear of separation, they forged a lovers' pact so that they might spend eternity together and not spend one precious Christmas apart.

They k*lled themselves?

And their ghosts haunt this house every Christmas Eve.

I just gave myself chills.

It's a good story, Mulder, and very well told, but I don't believe it.

You don't believe in ghosts?

That surprises you? Well... yeah.

I thought everybody believed in ghosts.

If it were any other night, I might let you talk me into it, but the halls are decked and I gotta go.

My best to the family. What are you doing?

Don't you have somewhere to be? I'm just gonna take a look.

I'm not gonna do it. My New Year's resolution.

Mulder?

Change your mind?

Did you take my car keys? No.

Don't kid around. Why would I take your car keys?

Maybe you, uh...

Maybe you grabbed them by mistake. Maybe it was a ghost.

That's a... cold wind.

There must be a window open upstairs.

The weather report said there was an 80% chance of rain, maybe even... maybe even a white Christmas.

I think the spirits are among us.

Quit trying to scare me and help me get these doors open.

Sounds like somebody's walking around upstairs.

There. You hear that?

Mulder, I really have to go.

There's nothing to be afraid of. I'm not afraid, OK?

Ghosts are benevolent entities.

Mostly.

You are not scaring me, Mulder.

Look, I really have to get home.

Mulder. Shh!

What was that? These are tricks that the mind plays.

They are ingrained clichés from a thousand different horror films.

When we hear a sound, we get a chill. We see a shadow and imagine something that an otherwise rational person would discount out of hand.

I mean, the whole... Mulder?

The whole idea of a benevolent entity fits perfectly with what I'm saying.

That a spirit would materialize or return for no other purpose than to show itself is silly and ridiculous.

What it shows is how silly and ridiculous we have become in believing such things.

I mean, that we can ignore all natural laws about the corporeal body, that we witness these spirits clad in their own shabby outfits, with the same old haircuts and hairstyles, ne ver ageing, never in search of more comfortable surroundings...

It actually says more about the living than the dead.

Mm-hm. It doesn't take a degree in psychology to understand the unconscious yearnings that these imaginings satisfy.

You know, the longing for immortality, the hope that there is something beyond this mortal coil, that we'll never be without our loved ones...

I mean, these are powerful, powerful desires.

They're the very essence of what makes us human. The essence of Christmas, actually.

Tell me you're not afraid.

All right, I'm afraid.

But it's an irrational fear.

I got your back. Thank you.

Did it occur to you that there aren't ghosts here, but that somebody might live here?

No one lives here.

But when you and I were sitting out in the car, there was not a light on... and look at this.

Must've been an electrical surge.

Mulder, did you happen to notice the clock downstairs is keeping perfect time?

Is it?

And how do you explain that?

This fire has just gone out.

Yeah.

Don't look so disappointed.

Why would anyone want to live in a cursed house?

It's not enough that it's haunted? It has to be cursed?

Every couple that's lived here has met a tragic end.

Three double murders in the last 80 years, all on Christmas Eve.

Uh-oh. There's that sound again.

Mulder?

That's not funny!

I think there's a hiding space under the floorboards.

What are you gonna do? Somebody may be trapped under there.

Mulder, don't. Not now. Hey, you have a g*n, right?

Rationally, you've been in much more dangerous situations.

Well, I was half right.

Oh, my God.

Hey, Scully.

Look at this.

It's a woman.

It looks like they were sh*t to death. Yeah.

You know what's weird? What?

She‘s wearing my outfit.

How embarrassing.

Yeah, well, you know what? He's wearing yours.

Uh, Scully?

That's us.

Hey, Scully...

This is the same room.

All right.

I'm beginning to... get this. Yeah.

You go through that door, and I...

I should come out... this door.

Right.

Mulder? Scully!

Scully!

Hey, Scully!

Scully, can you hear me?!

Hey!

Who are you? That's a question I should ask, being this is my house you're standing in.

This isn't one of those home invasions? No.

Good. Would you like me to show you the door?

That's very funny. I wasn't making a joke.

Have you looked at the door? I'm looking at it now.

Tell me what you see.

I see a door with the lock sh*t off it.

You gonna pay for that?

That's a door with a brick wall behind it.

0K, sure.

You're playing tricks on me.

If I am, I'm sorry, but I don't know any tricks.

Well, that's a trick in itself.

You've been playing tricks on us since we got here.

Am I to take it we're not alone?

Ah, that's very funny, coming from a ghost.

Yeah, yeah...

The g*n fooled me a little at first. You're a ghost hunter, huh?

And you think I'm a ghost, huh?

Well, I've seen a lot of strange folks come around here with a lot of strange equipment, but I think you must be the first I've seen come armed.

Strange folks? Mm-hm.

Like those folks under the floorb...

How did you do that? I didn't do anything.

There were corpses here, bodies buried under the floorboards.

Why don't you have a seat, son?

You drink? Take dr*gs? No.

Get high? No.

Are you overcome by the impulse to make everyone believe you?

I'm in the field of mental health.

I specialize in disorders and manias related to pathological behaviour as it pertains to the paranormal.

Wow. I didn't know such a thing existed.

My specialty is in what I call soul prospectors, a cross-axial classification I've codified by extensive interaction with visitors like yourself.

I've found you all tend to fall into pretty much the same category.

Hm. What category is that?

Narcissistic, overzealous, self-righteous egomaniac.

That's a category?

You kindly think of yourself as single-minded, but you're prone to obsessive compulsiveness, workaholism, antisocialism.

Fertile fields for the descent into total wacko breakdown.

I don't think that pegs me exactly.

Oh, really? Waving a g*n around my house? Huh?

Raving like a lunatic about some imaginary brick wall?

You've probably convinced yourself you've seen aliens.

You know why you think you see the things you do?

Because I have seen them?

Cos you're a lonely man.

A lonely man... chasing para-masturbatory illusions that you believe will give your life meaning and significance, which your pathetic social maladjustment makes impossible for you to find elsewhere.

You probably consider yourself passionate, serious, misunderstood. Am I right?

Para-masturbatory?

Most people would rather stick a finger in a wall socket than spend time with you.

All right. Just back off for a second.

You spend every Christmas alone? I'm not alone.

More self-delusion. No. I came with my partner.

She's somewhere in the house. Behind a brick wall?

How'd you get her to come with you, steal her car keys?

You know why you do it.

Listen endlessly to her droning rationalizations.

Because you're afraid. Afraid of the loneliness.

Am I right?

I'd just like to find my partner.

Good. Easy.

Piece of cake.

Brick wall?

0r brick wall?

Go ahead. Change your life.

Mulder?

Aaargh! Aaargh!

No, please! I won't hurt you.

I'm a federal agent! I'm armed! You're what?

I'm armed! You said...

I'm armed! You're a federal agent?

Please, I'm a little on edge! Don't come any closer!

My name is Special Agent Dana Scully, and, uh, I can...

I can show you my ID.

Oh, my goodness. I thought you were a ghost.

I can assure you that I'm not. I got stuck here looking for my partner.

Oh, the gangly fellow with the distinguished profile?

You've seen him? With you in the foyer.

I thought he was a ghost, too. on.

That was you. I sleepwalk.

I thought maybe I dreamed it. But then here you were again.

I am sorry. I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to scare you. I, uh...

It's just that we found bodies.

Bodies? Where?

Right...

You look like you saw a ghost.

There are ghosts in this house, you know.

Who are you?

I live here, thank you very much.

Where's my partner? Why are you pointing that g*n?

There were corpses underneath the floor!

I think the ghosts have been playing tricks on you.

I don't believe in ghosts.

Then what are you doing here?

Where's my partner?

He believes in ghosts? Yeah.

Oh, you poor child.

You must have an awful small life, spending your Christmas Eve with him, chasing things you don't even believe in.

Don't come any closer.

I can see it in your face - the fear, the conflicted yearnings, the subconscious desire to find fulfillment through another.

Intimacy through codependency.

What?

Maybe you repress the truth about why you're here, pretending it's out of duty or loyalty, unable to admit your dirty little secret: your only joy in life is proving him wrong.

You don't know me.

And you don't live here! This isn't your house!

You wouldn't think so, the way I'm being treated.

Then why is the furniture covered? We're painting the house.

Where's your Christmas tree?! We're Jewish. Boo!

Hold it right there! Don't make me sh**t you!

Just stay where you are!

We really attract 'em, don't we?

Where's Mulder? Mulder? Is that his name?

Where is he? He'll be along.

Move over there! Both of you, move over there.

Move over there!

This violates our civil rights.

I have friends at the ACLU.

Put your hands up.

You see what we've resorted to? Gimmicks and cheap tricks.

We used to be so good at this.

We used to have years to drive them mad. Now we get one night.

This pop psychology approach is crap. All it does is annoy them.

When's the last time we haunted anyone? When did we last have a double m*rder?

Not since the house was condemned.

This is embarrassing. Amateur, kid stuff.

Look, if we let our reputation slip, they're gonna take us off the tourist literature.

Last year, no one even showed up.

Of all days, why did you pick Christmas? Why not Halloween?

Now, who is filled with hopelessness and futility on Halloween?

Christmas comes but once a year.

You're right.

These two do seem pretty miserable.

We need to show them just how lonely Christmas can be.

Now that's the old yuletide spirit.

0h...

Are you Agent Mulder? Who are you, now?

What are you doing using my chair for a ladder?

Trying to get out of this room. Trying to get out?

Excuse me. No, no, you can't get out that way.

Masher. Frump.

I don't know who you're calling a frump, but I don't appreciate that.

Being manhandled or called names. Certainly not at this hour.

You're a ghost. on, more names!

What happened to the star-crossed lovers? The romance is the first thing to go.

It's you.

You're Lyda. And that was Maurice.

But you've... aged.

I hope your partner finds you a lot more charming than I do.

Let's see. Where is it?

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...

There it is.

I was young and beautiful once, just like your partner.

Whoo!

Look at us. Maurice was so handsome.

He didn't have a gut.

I hope you're not expecting great advantages to all this.

To all what?

I assume you came here with similar misconceptions.

We came here looking for you. Oh, yeah?

You didn't come here to be together for eternity?

No.

Because you're filled with despair and woeful Christmas melancholy?

Why? Maybe it was your partner, then.

What about her?

You knew this house was haunted. Yeah.

Maybe you two should have discussed your real feelings before you came here.

I'm speaking from experience.

What experience? I'm not gonna get into semantics.

A m*rder/su1c1de is all about trust. I thought you had a lovers' pact.

Poetic allusions aside, the outcome, Mulder, is pretty much the same.

I don't show my hole to just anyone. Why are you showing it to me?

It isn't like you're gonna be eating any Christmas ham, is it?

You're telling me that Scully's gonna sh**t me?

Scully is not going to sh**t me.

Suit yourself.

But if you sh**t first, for her the rest is an act of faith.

I wouldn't sh**t her. Maybe she sh**t herself.

I wouldn't let her.

The bodies under the floor...

Maybe that was just some kind of Jungian symbolism.

Or maybe... there's a secret lovers' pact.

We're not lovers.

And this isn't a pure science.

But you're both so attractive.

And there'll be a lot of time to work that out.

Go ahead. Take it.

Take it.

Think of it as the last Christmas you'll ever spend alone.

I locked it.

For your protection. Stay away from me.

Look, I want you to get me out of here.

I am quite capable of pulling this trigger. I'm glad to hear it.

You may well have to defend yourself against your crazy partner.

What have you done with him?

Kept him safe from his own mad devices - at least, for now.

You have any idea why he brought you here to this house?

Look, all I know is this is just some bad dream. This is all in my head.

And yet here you are, waving a g*n at me like your partner.

Scully!

Do you realize how seriously disturbed that man is?

How dark and lonely? What he's capable of?

Scully!

Mulder! Want your car keys?

Where did you get those?

He's got nowhere to go this Christmas and no one to go with.

Did he happen to mention a story about a lovers' pact?

Where did you get those keys?

The man is acting out an unconscious yearning.

The deep-seated terror of being alone.

Scully! Scully, are you there?

I'm here, Mulder! Open the door, Scully!

Open the door.

I've seen it happen... too many times in this house.

I don't believe you. Just open the door.

Open the door!

Where's Scully? Mulder.

Mulder, what are you doing?

Mulder!

There's no getting out of here, Scully. There's no way home.

Mulder, come on.

Don't come any closer. You're scaring me.

Put the g*n down! Are you gonna sh**t me?

I'm not gonna sh**t you. I don't wanna sh**t you!

It's me or you, you or me. One of us has to do it.

Mulder, look. We don't have to do this.

Oh, yes, we do! We can get out of here.

Even if we could, what's waiting for us? More loneliness!

And then 365 more shopping days till even more loneliness!

I don't believe what you're saying. Mulder, I don't believe a word of it.

Merry Christmas, Scully.

And a happy New Year.

Let me go! Let me go!

Come back! Let me go!

Let me go!

Let me go!

Scully!

Scully...

Is that you?

What did you do? I didn't believe it, Mulder.

You didn't believe what?

I didn't believe that you'd do it.

That I would.

Merry Christmas, Mulder. What are you doing?

Scull...

Have yourself a merry little Christmas Let yourself be light From now on your troubles will be out of sight

Have yourself a merry little Christmas Make the yuletide gay From now on our troubles will be miles away

Here we are, as in olden days...

Scully?

Happy golden days of yore Faithful friends who are dear to us Gather near to us once more Scully...

Through the years we all will be together...

Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow...

I'm not gonna make it.

No, you're not.

Not without me, you're not.

Are you afraid, Mulder?

I am.

I am too.

Ohh.

Faithful friends who are dear to us Gather near to us once more You should have thought of this. You should have.

You sh*t me first! I didn't sh**t you. You sh*t me.

If the fates allow Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow

Scully?

What?

Get up.

I can't.

Get up. We're not sh*t.

What?

It's a trick. It's all in your head.

Faithful friends who are dear to us Gather near to us once more Through the years we all will be together If the fates allow Hang a shining star upon the highest bough

And have yourself a merry...

Little Christmas now You hear that? It's Christmas. One for the books.

We almost had those two, didn't we? Almost had 'em.

Two such lonely souls.

Can't let our failures haunt us.

You wonder what they were really out here looking for.

Hard to say. People now...

This is just another joyless day of the year.

Not for us. No.

We haven't forgotten the meaning of Christmas.

I don't deserve to be so happy.

I can't help it.

I just can't help it.

Scrooge was better than his word.

He became as good a friend, master, and as good a man as the good old city ever knew, or any other good old city, town or borough in the good old world.

And to Tiny Tim...

l, uh... I couldn't sleep.

I was, um...

Can I come in? Yeah.

Aren't you supposed to be opening Christmas gifts with your family?

Mulder... none of that really happened out there tonight.

That was all in our heads, right?

It must have been.

Not that my only joy in life is proving you wrong.

When have you proven me wrong?

Well, why else would you want me out there with you?

You didn't wanna be there?

Oh, that's, um...

That's self-righteous and... narcissistic of me to say, isn't it?

No, I mean... maybe I did want to be out there with you.

You know...

I know we said that we weren't going to exchange gifts, but, uh... I got you a little something.

Mulder... Merry Christmas.

I got you a little something too. Oh...

And have yourself a merry Little Christmas now

I made this!