Christmas One Shot
Title: A Cowboy Christmas
Rating: G
Characters: Jack
Synopsis: Christmas related Jack fic.
He'd been on his own for years now, and he was used to it by now. The only time it really got to him was Christmas. He had vague memories of his parents…before the fire took his mother, and his father left him to fend for himself. It was a happier time in his young life. The last Christmas they spent together as a family was his best memory. His mother surprised him with a wooden horse. It was just a broom handle with a burlap head and ears, with a bit of straw for a mane and buttons for eyes, but to a seven year old it was the greatest gift ever. Ever since the Wild West Show came to town, he'd been obsessed with being a cowboy. His father had surprised both him and his mother with the penny comics of cowboys in Santa Fe, New Mexico. They were undoubtedly not paid for, but he cherished them still (he even carried one with him wherever he went…ten years later).
The morning of the fire was like any other day, a few days before Christmas. His mother sent him to the grocer with a handful of change to buy a small bottle of milk and some bread. His father had already gone off to do whatever it was that he did with his time. How he wished and wished that he hadn't stopped to look at the candy display in the store next to the grocer…if he hadn't…his mother might have been OK. He smelled the smoke before he even turned the corner. He tried to run inside to his mother, but one of the neighbors, an older woman, stopped him with her arms around him. "She's gone, Francis…they're all gone…", she said, sounding a bit gone herself.
Gone? She couldn't be -gone-. She was his mother, she was supposed to be there forever, and make sure everything was alright whenever he needed her. Where was his father? Was he gone, too? He never showed up again after the fire. His father must have hated him for not getting home in time to save his mother…that's why he never came back.
Ten years later, every time he walked past the spot where the fire happened, he made sure he was on the other side of the street and walked as quickly as possible. Without making it look like he was -terrified- of that place. There was a new apartment building there now, and new families…laughing and smiling and having everything that he didn't anymore.
Christmas this year would be like most of the others in recent years. He would go up to the roof of the newsboy's lodging house and try to get drunk enough to forget that it was Christmas. Someone else had other plans, however.
He finished selling his last pape and made his way back to the lodging house, rushing a bit to get back before it was too late to get in without having to climb the fire escape. He was in such a hurry, he even forgot to cross the street when he went by the new building. He was so lost in thought, that he didn't even see the person in front of him. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things. The man was fat, and wearing a red suit…just like Santa Claus. Maybe one of the actors from Irving Hall was so drunk they forgot to take off their costume before they left? Unlikely, since Medda wouldn't have allowed that. What was he doing out on the street then? "Uh, mister? Are ya lost?", he asked in a voice that was generally reserved for crazy people.
The old man turned and shook his head slightly. He even had a long, white beard like Santa. "No. I am never lost, Francis. I'm right where I'm supposed to be tonight…and so are you", he replied in a deep voice that just seemed to have an instant effect on him…a feeling of happiness…almost like he used to feel when he was little and his mother would rock him to sleep.
"How d'ya know me name? Who are ya?", he asked with a frown. This was getting a bit scary, even for him.
"I've always know your name, Francis. I have something for you…something that I've been trying to give to you for a long time", the old man said, reaching into a black sack on the sidewalk. "You've been avoiding this place for a long time, now, but you finally made it", he said with a smile as he pulled out a plain, brown paper package and handed it over. "You're mother wanted to give these to you when you were older, and now you have them."
"Me mother? She's dead, mister…she's been dead for ten years. I dunno who ya think ya are, or what kinda game ya playin'…but it ain't funny", he said, scowling.
"It's not a game, Francis. I don't play games like that", he said as he hefted the bag over his shoulder. "Open the package when you feel like it, I've other places to go tonight…and not much time to get everything done. I made a special stop, just for you."
"A special stop? What's goin' on here? How d'ya know me mother? How d'ya know me name? Just -tell- me!", he was nearly in tears. The memories of ten years ago were coming flooding back, and he couldn't stop them. By the time he blinked back the tears, the old man was gone…-vanished-. He sat down on the curb and opened the package with trembling hands. Inside was a new penny comic with cowboys in Santa Fe, and a black cowboy hat with a red bandana. "Just like a -real- cowboy", he whispered to himself. It was the last thing he asked for his mother to get him for Christmas…a Christmas that never came. Until now. He looked up at the sky, and -knew- that somewhere…his mother was smiling down on him.