Stargate Atlantis: Season's Greetings
Ghost of Christmas Past
"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" John Sheppard's voice was high, filled with excitement and wonder as he all but tripped down the stairs. His feet slid, trapped in his footed pajamas but he retained his balance and clambered along the hardwood steps, clutching the banister for balance. His older brother snorted behind him, following and mocking the younger sibling's clumsiness but John ignored him. "Mommy!" he called again, at last reaching the level floor. He sped round the corner and paused abruptly.
"Watch it, Johnny!" David Sheppard shouted, almost colliding with his little brother.
A woman turned towards them with a warm smile. She was lovely, a vision in a white fluffy robe, her brown hair spilling out in every direction. She held a spatula and the delicious scents of waffles infiltrated the air. "Morning, Johnny, David. Whatever is the matter?" Emily Sheppard asked. She set down the spatula she had been holding.
The boys hesitated. It was an unusual sight to see their mother cooking. Normally one of the staff would handle those duties, especially since mommy hadn't been very well recently. But here she was, cooking them breakfast as if it was just another ordinary morning.
Except it wasn't just another ordinary morning.
It was Christmas morning!
The boys grinned, exchanged a glance and hastened to her. "Mommy! Mommy, it's Christmas!" David announced with surety. He glanced round but his father was nowhere to be seen.
"Mommy, mommy, Santy Claus came! Come see, come see!" John insisted, reaching up to take her free hand and tugging.
Emily smiled at her sons. Both had earnest expressions. David appeared concerned, however, as he eyed her. Johnny was all excitement, his dark hair sticking out in every direction no matter how she tried to tame it. "Did he now? Are you sure?"
"Yes, mommy! There are pwesents and lights and pwesents under the tree! Come see! Come see!" John tugged and Emily let him lead her out of the spacious kitchen.
"Mommy, where's daddy?" David asked. Always the cautious one he followed, frowning. The house was very quiet and he wondered if the entire staff had been given the day off for the holiday.
"Daddy had some business this morning in his study so we must be very quiet and wait for him," Emily answered. The family crossed the elegant foyer, their footsteps muted on the shiny hardwood floor. They passed into the family room. A large wreath hung above a spacious fireplace. A giant red bow caught the sunlight streaming in through the paned windows and the material seemed to bleed among the pine needles.
"Look, mommy! Look!" John stopped near the tall evergreen tree, pointing dramatically. The tree was a marvel, full of white lights that were blinking and colored glass ornaments shimmering in the sunlight. Silver tinsel glinted seductively, winking as if in on the conspiracy, and the silver garland hugged the tree limbs with graceful ease.
Beneath the tree were scattered several presents. All shapes and sizes wrapped in colored foil paper spangled with ribbons and bows. Spread under the tree and across the velvet tree skirt as if haphazardly dropped there. And they hadn't been there last night!
"And see? See?" John turned, pointing at the stockings hung over the fireplace. Each red stocking bore a name in elegant glitter writing: Emily. David. John. Patrick. And each stocking had candy canes peeking out of their bulging material. "Santy Clause came!" John announced triumphantly, a big smile on his face, revealing a gap where he had lost a baby tooth and was waiting for its replacement.
"Don't be stupid, Johnny! There is no Santa Claus!" David remarked, shaking his head with the authority of an older sibling. He moved towards the tree, stopped seeing a large shape in the shadows. "Is that for me? Is that a bike?"
"There is too!" Johnny retorted, still keeping hold of his mother's hand in his. "Look at all of this! It wasn't here yesterday or last night and I looked!" He freed his mother's hand and moved to a glass table in front of the settee. "And look! The cookies are gone!" He pointed at the empty porcelain plate where only a few crumbs remained of the cookies left for Santa.
David snorted, shaking his head. "That's because daddy ate them!"
"No he didn't! Santy Claus did!" John argued, frowning at his brother. He folded his arms across his chest, immovable. Never mind that he was adorable in his red pajamas, the ones with the planes all over them, he was serious and would prove his point no matter what.
David snorted again. "There is no Santa Claus, stupid!"
"David! Do not call your brother stupid! And don't tell him there is no Santa Claus," Emily intervened, looking from one to the other.
"But it's true, mommy! There is no Santy Claus!"
"There is!" John argued back, just as vehemently. "If there wasn't then who brought the pwesents and the twee and ate the cookies then huh huh?"
"Daddy did, dummy! Daddy did all of this, well, daddy and the workers did," David ameliorated, glancing round the exquisitely decorated room. "Don't be a baby, John."
"I am not a baby! Santy Claus did all of this and I proved it!"
"You did not!"
"Did!"
"Did not!"
"Boys, enough, please! I don't like it when you yell and argue!" Emily had moved to her knees and was hugging herself, seemingly drawing in on herself. Voices were starting to whisper in her head and she tried to ignore them.
The boys exchanged a glance and a guilt they knew all too well. They moved to her and touched her arms. "Sorry, mommy!" they chorused, looking fearfully around lest their father overhear the commotion.
"Stop it! Stop the yelling! I cannot abide the yelling! You know what will happen if you keep yelling and we don't want that we don't want…" Emily took a breath, trying to calm herself and her shattered nerves and the voices clamoring in her head. She stood shakily, eyed each boy and smiled. She kissed each one. "Now, boys, let me finish cooking breakfast and then we can open our presents, all right?" She headed out of the room, appearing in control once more. Her voice was slightly different too. As if someone else had taken momentary control.
The boys exchanged a glance, both relieved and worried. "You shouldn't have done that."
"I didn't do anything!" John argued. "You started it!"
"You did with all of your stupid talk about Santa! There is no Santa, Johnny! Grow up, would ya? Daddy did all of this like he does every year!"
"No! Santy Claus brought the pwesents and ate the cookies and did the tree so there!"
"Santa doesn't exist!"
"He does!"
"He doesn't!"
"He does!"
"He doesn't!"
"Boys!"
The stern word made both boys freeze. They visibly gulped and slowly turned to see a towering figure in the doorway. They glanced at each other, turned to face their father and eyed the floor.
"Sir?" they said together quietly.
Patrick Sheppard neared. His footsteps were loud on the floor. He was dressed in a suit and tie, as if he was going out to work. He eyed each boy. "I expect better behavior on Christmas morning, gentlemen. Your mother was trying to cook breakfast but you upset her so much she has had to lie down for a little while. I've warned you about upsetting her, haven't I?
"Yes, sir," the little boys agreed.
"You know your mother is delicate and has to be treated with kindness, especially during her bad spells. What were you arguing about this time? David?"
"Santa Claus, sir. Johnny still believes in him," David replied, glancing up at his father. His features reflected more of his father, while John took after their mother more.
"I see. John?"
John swallowed, but met his father's gaze boldly, even as David returned his gaze to the floor. "Yes, sir. I pwoved that Santy, er, Santa Claus came here because of the pwesents and the tree and he even ate the cookies that mommy and I left him to eat." He smiled, seeing no fault with either his logic or his evidence. "He came and did all this, just like mommy said he would."
Patrick eyed his younger son. His expression softening for a moment, but he hardened recalling how the argument had upset his wife and had almost sent her spiraling into yet another bout of depression. "I see. Well, your brother is right, John. There is no Santa Claus. You may as well learn this now. You're old enough to stop believing in fairy tales or silly stories."
David smiled briefly, but his smile fled as he glanced at his little brother and saw his crestfallen expression.
"There's no…no Santy Claus?" John asked slowly, stunned. He stared round the room. All the wonder and magic seemed to evaporate before his eyes. He glanced at his brother, then to his father.
Patrick nodded. "Yes, son. Santa Claus doesn't exist. It's just a story told to little children. Now come along and let's have breakfast. Then we can see how mommy is and if she is feeling up to it we can open our presents. Let's go, boys." Patrick turned and headed out of the room.
David glanced at his little brother, shrugged. "Told ya," he sniped, but regret whispered in his voice. He followed after his father, unconsciously imitating the older man's upright stride .
John stared after them. He bit his lower lip a moment, forcing himself not to cry. He looked at the wreath. He looked at the stockings. He looked at the magnificent tree. He looked at the several presents gathered around it and under it.
Nothing had changed, really. There were still presents to open. There were still decorations. There was still a Christmas tree and a wreath and stockings and lights and ornaments and candy canes and bows and ribbons and gifts oh yes plenty of gifts.
But something was gone. It was something that had been there only a few moments ago. It was something as warm as the touch of his mother's hand in his, as comforting as her smile, as wonderful as her lucid, calm mood. Something had been taken away and would never return. The lights shone just a little less brightly. The tree was a little less magical. The presents glimmered with less promise. The empty cookie dish held no more proof.
It was still Christmas morning.
But there was no Santa Claus.
And if there was no Santa Claus what else wasn't real? Was else was just a story? Would mommy ever get better like the doctors and daddy kept saying, or was that just a story too? Was that just another pretend story like Santa Claus and his elves and his reindeer and all the rest?
John Sheppard stared hard at the tree and the presents.
Resolutely he turned and walked out of the room.