By Mo Moshaty

“The dark, gothic manor the, uh, omnipresent low fog hugging the thicket of overgrowth. Wait– is that a hound I hear baying out on the moors?” – Dana Scully

It’s not peculiar for Scully to be drawn into one of Mulder’s hunches, fun-fests, or speculations, and this one’s not only an absolute pip but also a heartbreaking setting to define the human emotion of loneliness.

Christmas Eve: Outside a crumbling abandoned Maryland mansion, Mulder recounts to a harried and Christmas-dreading Scully a tale steeped in dark despair: in 1917, a desperately in-love couple’s murder-suicide set off a chilling pattern—a cycle of two gunshots and one agonizing journey to the afterlife, repeating as more murder-suicides occurred on the property, all on Christmas Eve. So, why not check it out, right? By stealing Scully’s car keys Mulder ensures himself a partner-in-crime and they shuffle into the home that almost immediately begins to show it’s horrors.

Doors opening and closing. Electric lights seemingly working. And a haunted library whose floorboards hide a deadly secret underneath. Cracking them open only resigns Scully and Mulder to believe the bodies rotting under the library are their own…and away we go! Full haunt, commence!

In true horror fashion, Scully and Mulder get separated, and the ghosts’ divide and conquer sets off a deep dive into Scully and Mulder: The Miniseries.

The Yin and Yang of Scully and Mulder’s relationship is a fun one to explore. From the projected lust of ‘I don’t know, maybe, will they, won’t they?’ of it all, to the balancing energy of their escapades. It’s a messy friendship, but an important one. Especially in this episode where they not only have to confront the supernatural but confront the sticky-icky-this-is-too-much-even-for-my-therapist feelings about themselves and how they relate to one another.

MULDER AND THE ‘PARAMASTURBATORY’

Mulder gets the brunt first as he encounters Maurice (Ed Asner), and elderly man in a bucket hat and curmudgeonly cardigan, who urges Mulder to understand that he is standing inside his very much occupied by living, breathing people home and not some ghost hunter expedition. Mulder doesn’t fall for the act, at first, but as Maurice reads him eight ways to Sunday, he doesn’t really have much choice than to hear him out – silently (Mulder, quipless? Surely not!).

“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. You’ve probably convinced yourself you’ve seen aliens. You know why you think you see the things you do? ‘Cause you’re a lonely man. A lonely man chasing paramasturbatory illusions that you believe will give your life meaning and significance and which your pathetic social maladjustment makes impossible for you to find elsewhere. You probably consider yourself passionate, serious, misunderstood. Am I right?” – Maurice

Oh, Mulder, R.I.P., King.

Sometimes, we need to hear the truths that hurt the most, and Maurice doesn’t hold back. He works hard to convince Mulder that he’s a leech, a difficult person, someone so insufferable that “most people would rather stick their fingers in a wall socket than spend a minute with him.” Talk about pouring lemon juice on a wound. Maurice’s words lay bare an uncomfortable truth—Mulder is lonely. But then again, what brooding, misunderstood figure isn’t?

Maurice’s tough love strips away a carefully hidden layer of Mulder’s persona: the fact that he lacks the courage to admit he needs or wants anyone in his life. To him, needing someone feels like weakness, so he resorts to beguiling with charm and intellect to draw people into his orbit rather than directly asking for their companionship.

This stark message forces another reality into focus: Mulder thrives on being the smartest, most self-assured person in the room because it gives him control over his interactions. Vulnerability—being warm, open, or needy—just doesn’t fit his carefully constructed image. As a viewer, it’s a side of Mulder we’ve always seen, but seeing his reaction as Maurice’s words land—the steep drop of his trademark “oh, really, buddy?” smile—makes the moment all the more cutting.

In the very same room – er – on another plane of space and time, Dana is having her own problems.

ONE DANA DOWN, COMING UP.

A bewildered Scully is the best Scully. The skeptic hanging onto their last shred of reason. She is scared but her “fear is irrational”. Tell that to the ghost that just wandered into the library to a screaming Scully.

Dana’s conversation here is a little less brusque but not any less cutting. A flustered Scully reaches for her gun with trembling and sweaty hands and breathlessly explains that she’s FBI, quite unconvincingly. Lyda (Lily Tomlin) approaches Scully’s issues with a bit more aplomb albeit in a goading and conniving way.

Scully explains that she’s only in this house because she followed the ramblings of her partner, Mulder, and that’s when the mask drops with a thud.

“Oh, you poor child. You must have an awful small life. Spending your Christmas Eve with him… Running around chasing things you don’t even believe in. I can see it in your face… The fear… The conflicted yearnings… A subconscious desire to find fulfillment through another. Intimacy through co-dependency. Maybe you repress the truth about why you’re really 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.” – Lyda

Lyda sees straight through Scully, mocking her for spending Christmas Eve chasing ghosts instead of embracing a fuller social life with friends or family. Her jabs about Scully’s “dirty little secret”—finding joy in proving Mulder wrong—mix pity with provocation, daring Scully to confront the deeper truths of their partnership.

Lyda’s passive-aggressiveness exposes the emotional walls Scully has built, hinting at the connection she’s hesitant to fully acknowledge. Her words are sharp yet oddly perceptive, as if she’s saying, “I see you, even if you don’t see yourself.”

Gillian Anderson, Lily Tomlin and Ed Asner in The X-Files: S6 Ep 6: How the Ghosts Stole Christmas (1993) FOX

TWO TO GO

Scully’s reluctant therapy session ends when Maurice joins her and Lyda and whether rational or irrational, her fear escalates when the two make clear that they are indeed the ghosts of legend, exposing two very large exit wounds. Scully is now truly terrified, well, at least enough to faint.

Lyda and Maurice lament that their pact to never be apart has not only chained them unnecessarily to this house but it’s soured their love and fun. It’s become a job, getting folks to follow their lead, be scared, flee or otherwise. It’s not what they wanted out of the afterlife – the goal was to never spend another Christmas apart…that’s it. Anyone who’s ever tried to manifest, or anyone who’s seen a film where someone gets three wishes – the rules are the same – be hella specific and have CLEAR fine print. Lyda and Maurice are hell bent on spicing this year up, or bloodying it up, whichever comes first.

It’s touching and fantastical to think that love is never-ending – even in death (insert heartbreaking quote from WANDAVISION here), but Lyda and Maurice have found themselves in a hamster wheel of service instead of romantic bliss. Their eternal entrapment in the house reflects how unresolved grief, irrational fear and shared toxicity can imprison individuals emotionally. Lyda and Maurice’s tragic entrapment serves as a cautionary tale of how love, when twisted by fear and bitterness, can devolve into something toxic and isolating, leaving them as ghosts not only of their former selves but of the potential deep love they once had.

Something they collectively try to make Scully and Mulder see and pose the question: since you can’t live without each other, would you die together? And in “It’s A Wonderful Life” fashion – Lyda and Maurice give them an incredible simulation of what can happen if they make that choice.

David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, Lily Tomlin and Ed Asner in The X-Files: S6 Ep 6: How the Ghosts Stole Christmas (1993) FOX

How the Ghosts Stole Christmas shows a poignant contrast between Lyda and Maurice’s descent from love into toxic entrapment and Scully and Mulder’s evolving partnership. While the ghosts cling to their co-dependence, using fear to isolate others as they remain trapped in their own dysfunction, Scully and Mulder show how trust and mutual respect strengthen their bond. Their survival isn’t just about escaping the house—it’s a testament to how genuine connection can transform loss and loneliness into something enduring, rather than corrosive. Christmas is a season often associated with joy and togetherness, but for many, it can amplify feelings of isolation and loss. The episode taps into this emotional undercurrent, offering a reminder of the human need for connection, even amidst the supernatural chaos.

By contrast, Scully and Mulder’s decision to spend the rest of Christmas Eve together reflects a quiet defiance against loneliness. Their bond isn’t perfect, but it’s real, grounded in trust and mutual understanding—a differentiation to the ghosts’ manipulation and toxicity. In choosing each other, and by embracing the other’s idiosyncracies and personal need, Scully and Mulder reaffirm that even in the darkest moments, meaningful relationships can light the way forward.