A/N: Sorry for the sidetrack to '25 days to Christmas' and I promise I will return to that. Just wanted to write this down while inspiration had me.

This story is a Christmas gift for oo-Lisa-oo who wished that someone would make her favourite movie, 'The Christmas card', into an OGFF. So, I watched it, and this is what it inspires me to write. It was intended as a one-shot but swelled out a bit and is not yet complete. Hope you enjoy it Lisa and anyone else who reads it too.

In this A/U story Molly lives in a fictive country village and CJ is pretty much his usual self but without a marriage and kids in the past.

Thanks to Tony Grounds for the characters I'm borrowing and to 'The Christmas card' for inspiration.

x

THE CHRISTMAS CARD

Chapter 1

Afghan, forward operating base (FOB) in Helmand province, Dec 25, 2013

This was the second year in a row I found myself in Afghan over Christmas. I had not been here all through the year, but just like last year I was here on a six-month tour stretching over Christmas, my third tour in total to Afghan. One could think it would all be routine by now, but even if my experience had increased with each tour it never became routine. We could not allow ourselves to ever relax, because the day when we were anything but one hundred percent focused and alert, would be the day everything went to shit. It is tiresome to never be able to relax completely, but you only realise exactly how tiresome when you set foot on English soil again and go back to normal.

Do not get me wrong, I like being on tour. I feel free when I am, I like the simplicity of not having more belongings than can fit in my Bergen, but I would prefer not to be over Christmas. I miss celebrating Christmas in my parents' house in Bath, I miss them, I miss snow or at least cold, I simply miss being at home. I try to pretend that I do not, that I'm perfectly fine being out here even on Dec 25, because I want to try to keep the spirits of my men up. We try to celebrate as good as we can here, but I know all of them miss their families terribly a day like this and we still have a few months to go before they will be able to hug their loved ones. My main goal as captain is to get them all home in one piece, not like on last tour when one of the lads, Geraint, was shot by the Taliban. I do not know how many times I have relived that moment, seeing him take the shot and fall to the ground, then crawling two-hundred metres and drag him back with me because I would not let the Taliban have his body. The least I could do, was to deliver this boy who had been in my charge back to his mum, so she could give him a decent funeral. I did not want anything like it to happen ever again, but the risk was always there.

Probably it was those events that made me feel more emotional, more out of balance this Christmas Day than I had last year. I felt sad and lonely as hell, just did my best not to show it.

"Captain James?"

I looked up and Corporal Kinders was standing in the tent opening.

"A mail delivery came with the helicopter that just left."

I had heard the rotor blades of a helicopter arriving form Bastion and then leaving again but had not reflected much over the familiar sound. Now I felt a small hope, maybe there had been a Christmas letter from mum. I'm a grown man, a captain in charge of a platoon, but out here I miss my mum like never before. I'm not sure if that is pathetic or a natural reaction to the circumstances.

"Anything for me?" I asked casually, not really wanting to show him that it would mean a great deal to me to receive greetings from home this day.

"Not for you personally, but there was a bunch of Christmas cards that people back home have written to soldiers deployed abroad over Christmas. To keep our spirits up."

I could not help giving up a small laugh.

"Stuck in this dusty hellhole with the Taliban watching us and they think a letter from someone we don't know will cheer us up? I appreciate the effort, but I think the positive effect of a stranger's Christmas card might be limited."

"Don't say that until you've read yours. There's probably some old lady who has written something heart-warming to you."

"I'm sure I'll find something in there that makes up for sitting by my parents' fireplace having eggnog."

"I've always thought eggnog is nasty, one of the only good things about being here over Christmas."

"Are you kidding? No Christmas without eggnog… except this year… and last. Okay, so do you have a card for me then?"

"You got the honour to pick first since you're the boss."

Kinders held out a bunch of letters in a fan shape for me to choose one. I let my hand hover over them and then finally picked one randomly.

"Thanks, Kinders. Now double away and I'll read this thoughtful and encouraging letter."

He left, and I opened the letter. It contained a card that someone seemed to have made themselves and inside it a letter of several pages.

Snowhaven, Dec 5, 2013

First, apologies for this letter. You clearly got the short end of the stick when you got mine because I know these other ladies around me will write high quality, beautiful letters in cheerful Christmas spirit, meanwhile I'm not so sure what this will be.

I'm Molly by the way and my sister Bella dragged me with her to this charity event at our local church tonight. She had heard it had something to do with our troops and thought it might be an opportunity to meet some handsome soldiers, but she had gotten it all wrong, not a soldier in sight. Not any other men full stop, except for the vicar. It was just women writing Christmas letters to unknown soldiers deployed abroad over Christmas to keep their spirits up. Bella wanted to back out of it, but I felt we could not just leave now when we were here. She did anyway because she does not care much what people think, so now I'm left here alone - on a Friday evening I can add - and trying hard to figure out what to write to you, whoever you are, wherever you are. But I'll do my best to cheer you up, okay?

I live in a country village, Snowhaven, where I was born and raised. Have you ever seen 'Midsomer Murders'? Snowhaven is like that. Well, except for the murders which is fortunate, but the rest is much the same. It looks very quaint and peaceful, but in fact there are quite many intrigues going on under the surface because people have nothing better to do than stick their noses in each other's business. At the same time everyone knows each other and helps each other, so there is both good and bad sides to being as close as we all are. I have been thinking about leaving and maybe I will one day, but everyone I love lives here. That is a good reason to stay, don't you think?

My dad, Dave, is the pub owner. The pub is the heart of our village. I know some of the ladies sitting here tonight, writing, would argue it is the church, but most know it is the pub really. That is where people meet, laugh, fall in love, make plans, fight. That is where life happens.

Dad used to be an alcoholic, but he has been sober for five years so ironically, he is the only one in the pub who does not drink nowadays. He was not a very nice man when I grew up. Nice to the customers, not so much to mum and us kids. Not that he beat any of us (even if it came close a few times) but there was plenty of verbal abuse. Then five years ago, mum threatened to leave him and this time she meant it. Got her own place to stay and all, and you can imagine how that got the village talking. Deep down inside dad has always loved her, even if he had a strange way of showing it, so that finally made him stay off the drink and after a few months she moved back in.

You see, I think that for many years, dad sort of held a grudge against life for robbing him of being in the army. When he was young, he enlisted and did basic training. He did very well, and I've seen photos from his passing out where he looks proud as a peacock. Mum and he were already together and very much in love I've been told. They got married shortly after his passing out and he looks incredibly happy in the wedding photos too. Right before he was going to be deployed for the first time, he was home on leave for a week, went jogging in the forest, stumbled and broke his leg badly. It healed over time so now you would only notice a slight limp, but he was deemed unfit for service. It made him bitter and he started drinking. It was not until mum left him, that he realised that even if he did not have the army he had everything else he ever wanted out of life; he married the love of his life, had kids, friends a thriving business - and at the prospect of losing it he finally shaped up. He is still very sentimental about the army though. Any passing soldier risks to be told the long story of his glorious days in basic training and what heroic deeds that may have taken place had he ever been deployed.

I think dad realised he liked both himself and life much better sober. Life has been better for all of us since. Mum liked him so much more this way that it resulted in another little brother. He is twenty years younger than me! I still cannot believe they did that, made another baby. It makes it impossible to pretend they do not have sex. I mean, of course I have known they probably have had sex since the second youngest of us kids was made, but I prefer not to think of my parents in that setting. Another baby was indisputable evidence they were still at it. Eeeek! Anyway, sorry for that side track, writing in ink, otherwise I probably should have erased that part.

In total, I have five brothers and sisters and I'm the eldest, so I guess I'm supposed to be the wise and responsible one. Maybe I am, considering I stayed here writing while Bella just left, even though we came here on her account. My mum, Belinda, works in the pub with dad and they also have a few rooms for guests to stay over, like B&B, and she takes care of them too. I help quite often in the pub and B&B but also have another job. I work in Mr. Adam's little book slash antiquities shop. Sometimes I volunteer to help out in my uncle's, Dr. Chapman's practice, just because I like it. If I was to study for something, I think it would be for being a nurse. I dream of it sometimes, leaving to go study - maybe come back to live here again afterwards, working, or maybe stay away. I don't know. I'm not sure what I want with my life yet, but I feel it is about time that I knew soon. But how do I know? How did you know you wanted to be a solider?

First, I did not know what to write in this letter. Now I find it difficult to stop. Sorry for babbling on about my life, but it was a relief "talking" to someone who does not know me, who will not judge me, at least not to my face. Here everyone has an opinion of who I should be and what I should do.

I said that everyone I love live here. It Is almost true. My boyfriend is travelling so much for work he nearly does not live in Snowhaven anymore. His name is Dylan, but everyone calls him Smurf. I'm not sure why he got that nickname when we were kids (yes, we have known each other since then), maybe because he has a bit protruding ears. I think it is a funny name and so does everyone else, but he does not appreciate it particularly. Sometimes I think he takes himself a bit too seriously. He works for this company which imports wine and that is what sends him travelling. He goes around Europe, US, South America, Australia to find new exciting wines to import. Or at least he gets all excited about them. Me, I like a glass of wine but find it difficult to taste the difference when he arranges one of his wine tastings and goes on about complex bouquet, tannins or something. I do not dare to tell him that even if I like wine I actually prefer a beer. We have been going out for ages and know each other well, so it works to have a distance relationship, but when friends around me start moving in with each other and getting engaged I'm thinking about if it is maybe time for us too, to take our relationship to the next level. He does not seem very eager, though, and frankly I'm not sure if I am either. Not sure if we are made for each other. I have not told anyone, but since you are at a safe distance I feel I can tell you. You probably could not care less anyway. Also, I'm a bit scared to bring up the discussion how we would live our life then. I think he wants to keep travelling, and as I've said, I'm not sure if I want to leave the village, especially not to travel around the world constantly. One day I must make up my mind, but for now I'm playing ostrich, burying my head in the sand. Or in the snow - lol.

Snowhaven is full of these odd characters. Not me, I'm very average. I already told you about Mr. Adams' book slash antiquities shop. Apparently, he used to be a very successful business man in London. Then one day he got fed up with it all, resigned, moved here and started his little shop. It is vastly popular among the tourists passing through and he had so much to do that he hired me as a help. I love working there among all the old pretty things and he has taught me a lot about antiquities even if it has happened that I sold some valuable piece far too cheap. He said he could live with that for the joy to have me in the shop, which was very kind of him. Then we have Ms. Brannigan, she has the cutest bakery where she sells fantastic pastries. Everyone knows she has a crush on the butcher, Mr. Dudley - except for him, totally oblivious to it. Maybe one day they will get it on, he is single too. I hope they will. Someone who for sure always will be a spinster is Ms. Finch because she has like twenty cats, I'm not kidding. I visit her sometimes but never eat anything because I'm afraid I will get cat hairs in my mouth, it happened once. Then there is Mr. Gibbons and Mr. Lewis. They say they are just friends who share a house. Everyone knows they are a gay couple but are polite enough to pretend they do not understand as long as they do not want to come out of the closet themselves. My best friends, besides my sister Bella, are Jackie and Katie. Both their boyfriends live here in the village too and Katie and her Matt just moved in together and sometimes it makes me feel pretty lonely that Smurf almost never is here. Being the fifth wheel on a couples' night is always a bit awkward, even when it is with you best friends. It is a strange thing to feel like a single when you are not.

This time of the year it the best in the village. It is lovely in summer too and we always have a lot of tourists passing through, but in December when the whole village is decorated and there is this big Christmas tree on the small square and there is a Christmas market and an ice rink where you can go skating and lots of carol singing – then it is pure magic. Somehow the location of our village gives us a different climate zone than the rest of Britain, which always ensures snow in December. You need to ask a weatherman for the explanation, I'm just grateful. On Christmas Eve, it is tradition that more or less the entire village comes to the pub in the afternoon and we have the best time. Like a village Christmas celebration. For Christmas, even Smurf comes home so then everyone I love is really here. I would not want to be anywhere else in the whole world then.

Anyway, I hope your Christmas, wherever you are deployed is not total shit. That you get some kind of Christmas meal and gift and that there are no bombs going off on a day like that. I guess what you wish for most is to come home and see your loved ones, like I get to see mine. When I leave from the church in a few minutes, I will look up at the stars. You can see thousands of them out here on a clear night and even if I do not have a clue about what most them are called, I just think it looks amazing. I will find an especially big and bright one and make a wish for you. When you read this letter, you can look up at the same sky and see the same stars, and maybe find the same big and bright one and know that my wish for you is that you also will get home to be with your loved ones soon. I wish you all the best and a Merry Christmas.

XXX

Molly Dawes

P.S. Realise 'XXX' was overdoing it a bit since I do not know you, but as said, writing in ink so it is difficult to take something back.

P.P.S. In addition to not being so good at writing, I'm obviously also crap at this scrap booking thing, or whatever you call it when you do your own card. So sorry for the card too, as I said you really got the short end of the stick.