Author: SyndicateGirl
Archive: Yes, definitely! But please keep my headers attached and let me know where it is if you can. Thanks!
Spoilers: Maybe Musings?
Rating: PG
Classification:  Response to fanfic challenge: Someone tithes or donates to charity - Under 750 words.
Summary: CSM donates to a charitable cause.
Disclaimer: The X-Files characters are Chris Carter's and 1013 Productions', not mine, unfortunately; no infringement is intended. Please don't sue - I'm a writer, and have no money! :D

TITLE: Christmas Spirit

The soothing melody of “White Christmas,” coupled with children’s laughter, drifted in from the recreation room down the hall.  Sister Angela smiled and looked down at the envelope again, disbelief still evident on her face.  

Sister Margaret had told her about these large, anonymous donations.  They had been coming in regularly for over a decade.  But Sister Angela had only been working at the orphanage for a few months, and she hadn’t seen one for herself until now.

Sister Angela peered into the envelope again - it was bulging with hundred dollar bills, and included a simple typed note that read:

For the most pressing needs of the children, and a little extra to see to their toy fund during this time of year.  Merry Christmas.

That was it.  No grandiose gesture, no request for a wing to be named after the generous donor.  Nothing except the faint smell of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke.

**********

CSM tapped the snow off of his Florsheims, and slowly made his way into his apartment.  He flicked on the light, watching the overhead lamp flicker.  The beige walls seemed especially welcoming tonight.  

It was a bitter cold night out, and he was thankful to have heat.  He remembered a time, long ago, when heat was a luxury.  He hung his long, black overcoat in the hall closet, loosened his tie, and plopped himself into the chair in front of his typewriter.  

Tonight was the night.  He was finally going to finish that latest Jack Colquitt story he had started months ago.  The constant interruptions for mankind’s salvation really took it’s toll on his writing.  

He loaded a fresh sheet of bond paper into the old typewriter, and allowed his mind to drift back to his youth.  The visits to the front steps of the orphanage always set his mind to melancholy.  

He remembered Sister Anne, the youngest of the nuns at his old orphanage - funny and always willing to stop her duties to give a hug to whoever needed one.  Sister Beatrice, stern but fair and compassionate.  Sister Mary, the only nun he knew who could throw a baseball farther than any man he had ever known.  

He remembered the mediocre food, the quibbles over toy trains (oh, how CSM loved those toy train cars), the sledding that was done after classes had ended for the day.  Ah, those were the days.  Sure, times may have been rough on occasion, but now as he looked around his barren apartment, he silently wished for more.  

He had it for a while, once upon a time.  A wife who adored him, a son who was happy to see his Dad, a mistress who loved him...

He flicked on the radio, and the sound of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” filled the empty room.  CSM thought back to Christmas.  

Getting Bill and Teena’s children, his Godchildren, toys for under the tree.  Secretly relishing the thought that he was, in actuality, buying toys for his own children.

His mind drifted back to Cassandra humming away in the kitchen as she made dinner.  Her hips swaying as she hummed along with the radio.  He regretted not telling her more often that he loved her.  That he loved her for making their house a home.  For keeping Jeffrey happy.  For not asking questions.

CSM let out a sigh.  

He remembered the whole house smelling warm and inviting, the scent of cookies in the air as he walked in the front door after a long day at work.  

A young Jeffrey, still missing 2 baby teeth, running up to him, firing away with the questions:
“What did you do at work?”
“Did you stop bad guys?”

Ahhh, the admiration in his young son’s voice.  

Then, the inevitable, “What am I getting for Christmas, Daddy?”

CSM chuckled to himself, before his mind turned back to the orphanage.

He hoped that the children there would have a good Christmas, filled with laughter and fun, maybe some long awaited toys.  

CSM took another look around his apartment.  He could never justify spending much to improve his living arrangements.  Why should he? He lived alone, didn’t require many creature comforts, and barely saw the place anyway.

He leaned back in his chair, and wondered if any of the kids at the orphanage would be asking for toy trains.  It put a smile on his hardened face to know that they could afford the request. 

CSM: Nothing vanishes without a trace...burn it!