Disclaimer: I don't own a lot of things, Enchanted is one of those things. As is "The Night Before Christmas" and anything else you might recognize from another place. The writing; however, is my own.
Nose pressed to the icy window pane, Morgan stared out the window. Her fingers were splayed against the glass and her breath formed a layer of white condensation before dissolving into clear glass again. She seemed to be quite anxious, rising up and down on her tiptoes at every passing light from the street. Giselle watched her with curiosity as she sat on the comfortable couch and sewed lace on the hem of the dress she intended to wear the day for Christmas diner at Robert's parent's house.
He had been so happy to invite her and they seemed like lovely people from when she did meet them, they were, in essence, whatever she could have wished for. It had shocked her to find out that Robert's mother, like Edward's, was a step-mother. However, she was quite nice and did nothing to stop them from being with one another, and in fact, had even invited Giselle to help her make Christmas diner with her. Robert had explained how impressive that really was; because she had never asked Nancy in the five years they had been dating. Giselle couldn't see why, Nancy had been a lovely woman, but there was something about his family and Christmas that she couldn't quite put her finger on.
As confusing as the whole thing was, Giselle felt like there was something wonderful in the air, even if she couldn't really pinpoint it herself. Morgan had explained it as Christmas spirit and then proceeded to assert that everyone was being extra nice so that Santa Clause would check his list again and perhaps right any wrongs that may have been committed on his list of "naughty and nice." She had been very confounded by the idea, even afraid; especially after becoming aware he had claws. Robert and Morgan set her straight on that though, and after several evenings spent with Robert and Morgan snuggled up on the couch by the fireplace watching old Christmas movies, she understood it to some extent. However, why Morgan was behaving so oddly still perplexed her.
"What are you doing, Morgan?" she asked, tilting her head to the side, bright aquamarine eyes kindly imploring the youngster at the window to explain herself.
The little girl turned quickly and gasped, shocked that anything beside the Christmas carols that were faintly playing in the background would make a sound, but there was Giselle, green and red gown poised on her lap, looking for an answer to what she was doing. "Looking to make sure Santa isn't here before Daddy gets home," she replied simply, smiling as she meandered over to the couch, her bare feet making little sticky noises against the floor before she gently lifted the bodice of the dress and sat down, smoothing out the fabric over her knees.
"I thought you said Santa wasn't supposed to come until you're asleep in bed," Giselle teased, "you certainly don't look asleep to me." Meanwhile, her hands operated separate of her mind and continued to sew the white lace onto the skirt, rather proud of herself that she had gotten the hang of this Christmas thing. It wasn't hard for someone who was naturally creative minded, she found, and sometimes she thought that maybe she was even better at Christmas than Robert was, shocking in and of itself.
Morgan, on the other hand, watched her fingers work, nimbly drawing the thread and needle in and out of the fabric, little swishes of noise occurring where there was nothing by the warbling Chipmunk Christmas song in the background (and Morgan had to agree with Alvin, she wanted a hula hoop too!). Giggling at Giselle's teasing, the little girl smiled primly. "He's not supposed to," Morgan informed her, "but I want to make sure. I never go to bed on Christmas Eve without Daddy reading me a story."
This confused Giselle, and her hands momentarily stopped. Robert had always explained to her that he wasn't very good at stories and often, they would just serve to confuse his daughter or were boring. That was why Giselle, more often than not, was the developer of the fairy tales – of course, to her they were all true stories; however, for her to say that to anyone else would probably result in the stares of confusion she received when she first came to the magical world of New York City. "Is he especially good at Christmas stories?" Giselle asked, setting down her sewing for the moment.
Morgan nodded eagerly, "Daddy reads the same story every year, like his mom did to him…" she suddenly trailed off, looking a little sadder than she had moments before.
"What's the matter, Morgan?" Giselle asked, immediately sensing the shift in atmosphere and attitude, watching the little girl's face fall before her very eyes. It discontented her to think that something was bothering Morgan, and she wished desperately to know what she could do to help.
Morgan shook her head, making a good attempt at brightening her small face and playing with the tail end of her braid. "Have you ever heard The Night before Christmas, Giselle?" Morgan asked suddenly after several moments of awkward silence.
Even Giselle was quite aware when she was not wanted to intrude. It seemed to her that some mention of Robert's mother had distressed her, but she was growing rosier by the moment and perhaps it was just best to, as Robert said, 'let sleeping dogs lie.' At the mention of this story though, Giselle scrunched her nose, confused at best. "No… I haven't," she began slowly, "I would like to though," she added with a smile.
"It's the story Daddy tells me," Morgan explained. "He says it's a poem that was written a long time ago and it's about what Christmas is all about. I'm not sure what it is though," she confessed, slightly miffed about her ignorance on the point of Christmas's ultimate meaning. Giselle, who was far less versed in the lore of Christmas and the intent of the holiday, was just as confused as the young girl and she paused for a moment then resumed her sewing as she mulled over what Morgan could have meant by the meaning of Christmas. Robert had briefly mentioned it to her on one occasion or another, but nothing concrete ever pointed her in any solid direction.
What she would do when she was asked to find meaning in something would be look at what it meant to her. So, perhaps that was the point of Christmas too. To find meaning in something that you hadn't thought about before or derive something from it that was unique and special to just one person. Thinking that was an appropriate response to what Morgan was looking for, Giselle carefully folded up the dress she had on her lap and set it off to the side before shifting Morgan onto her lap, tapping her nose with a smile. "Well, what does Christmas make you think of – or feel like?"
Morgan, being at the tender age of six, did not think of the most profound things most of the time and often served to lighten heavy situations with her childishly innocent observation. But, tonight, Christmas Eve, was a moment of great thought on her part, and she gnawed on her lip, thinking about this quite hard. The first thing that came to mind was, "Family," as they always spent Christmas day driving to Connecticut to go visit her grandparents and exchange presents. Then, after a few more solid moments of thought, she came to a second conclusion, "memories," as she could remember anything about Christmas as far back as she could think, and then, lastly, " and love." Because, as her father and Sunday school had taught her, Jesus was born so that he could sacrifice himself for everyone else, and that was the best kind of love there was.
Stricken by these three answers, Giselle smiled sweetly and cuddled her cheek against Morgan's, "Then I think that's what Christmas means," she nodded, looking towards the Christmas tree. That was something else she had yet to understand, but it had been so much fun to decorate and pick out with Robert and Morgan that she didn't question it. Although it was sad that the tree had to die and she couldn't help but sniffle a little when she thought they would just be throwing it away after the holiday was over. Although, Robert insisted he never got rid of them in a timely manner so the tree would be there for a week or so after Christmas ended.
"You think so?" Morgan asked, her eyes brightening as she came to this conclusion. "Because I was thinking presents too…" she added, crinkling her nose in thought.
Giselle shook her head, "Presents, I think, should always show someone how much you love them."
Satisfied, Morgan nodded her head and sighed, looking impatiently towards the door and then back at Giselle. "I hope he gets home soon," she muttered before yawning, obviously the little girl was unable to stay awake much longer.
Giselle nodded in agreement as she gently rubbed the little girl's back, "Me too." Robert was so busy, which did put Giselle out to some degree. He deserved a vacation as much as the next person, but apparently the holidays were very busy for the work he did – which Giselle couldn't understand. If Christmas really was all about love then why did so many people disappear or wish to separate during the season? She couldn't exactly reason this out, but she knew Christmas made her wish to be even closer to those that surrounded her even more, especially Robert and Morgan. It almost pained her to leave at night even if she was just a few apartments over.
Morgan started to drift off on Giselle's lap and being that she was not exactly a very strong lady, Giselle just stayed on the couch and with the fire crackling nearby she started to drift off too, a little yawn passed her lips and her eyelids drooped before she heard keys in the door. With a drowsy smile and eyes, she watched as Robert walked in on Christmas Eve far later than he probably wanted to, looking relieved and exhausted at the same time. "Welcome home," she greeted softly, not wanting to wake up the dosing girl on her lap.
"You wouldn't believe how much work I had…" he grumbled, pulling off his coat, shaking it free of the snow that had started to fall earlier, going about his normal routine of getting rid of half of the unnecessary bits of work clothes before he turned around. When he did, the relieved expression fell as he saw his daughter asleep. "She couldn't stay up, huh?" he asked with a tinge of tenderness in his voice, also a soft sadness that Giselle could distinctly pick up on as he leaned down, taking the little girl in his arms, cradling her as though she were an infant again.
It was always a wonder to Giselle, the relationship between father and daughter that Morgan and he had. She hadn't known her own father and sometimes, looking at them, wished she had the chance to be daddy's little girl, as Morgan's cute t-shirt pointed her out to be. "She tried," Giselle explained gently, "she was waiting to hear," Giselle paused, thinking to the title of the story, "The Night before Christmas." She gently laid her hand on Robert's shoulder and he smiled to her before he started to walk towards Morgan's room, which was much more fanciful than it had been before Giselle arrived.
Giselle stood and watched him for a moment, preserving the memory of father and daughter in her mind before she heard him whispering something. Curiosity got the best of her and with silent steps she followed him, wondering what he could be saying to the sleeping little girl. As she leaned against the doorframe, it seemed they switched places, the silent observer and the storyteller with the little girl resting peacefully as her father whispered a tale that was near and dear to him in her ear. She was half awake, it seemed to Giselle as her eyelids fluttered and a tired smile crossed her lips.
Robert's voice remained quiet, barely above a whisper, as he finished and leaned over to kiss Morgan on the forehead, drawing her plush blanket up around her little shoulders. He smiled sadly and rubbed her arm, letting her fall into a slumber before he got up and turned off the main light, leaving the Little Mermaid nightlight glowing a peaceful blue over the room. He turned to Giselle and she smiled, "What were you saying?" she asked curiously, albeit in a whisper.
Motioning her to be quiet, Robert took her small hand in his own and led her back to the living room, prettily and tastefully decorated by their hands - more Giselle's mastery than his or Morgan's. But, he carefully moved the dress that he knew Giselle was working on out of the way and made room for the two of them, of course not much room, as they didn't need too much of it. So, he took his spot down on the couch, and gently tugging Giselle next to him, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder in a fond embrace. Leaning close to her ear, he started to whisper, "Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house…"