Disclaimer: Not mine, would be nice if they were. Here we are, the Christmas fic for 2013 - yes, it's a few days late but I got it done. This was the fourth fic mind you, I kept starting them and wasn't happy with them, until suddenly I found this inspiration coming out of the blue. I hope you all enjoy it. Once again, for effect, I am Australian and I use Australian English. AM, January 2014.

A Christmas Letter

by Angel Mouse

It was in a simple white plain envelope and John turned it over in his hands a few time, trying to ascertain its contents and what it held within. It was addressed simply – To the voice of International Rescue.

Scott had handed it to him with a rather sombre reverence when he had brought his supplies up for the Christmas period. He had told John that it had come via their publicity company and had been through numerous agents before it had reached Tracy hands.

And then to be given to John, well, that really intrigued him.

He had looked at his brother when Scott had given him the envelope and asked him why? Why this particular letter? They received thousands each month, why was this one special?

Scott had just replied it was, he had read it and knew that John needed to read it himself. And he had left it at that.

So, Scott and Alan had returned home and John had put away his supplies and now was sitting in the main control room, turning the envelope around in his hands.

Finally, sipping his cup of tea – a habit he had recently picked up from Penelope – he opened the envelope, which contained a letter and a photo in it, and he then began reading.

Dear Sir,

Sir seems so formal doesn't it? I feel like I know you like I know myself. Isn't that strange? You were a just a voice over the radio, a voice in the darkness that formed a lifeline to keep me going, kept me focussed and kept me alive.

You would probably receive thousands of these letters every day, and I don't know why I am doing this, but I feel I need to. I need to let you know that you made a difference to me on that day. I am not saying this right, but you need to understand on that day, in that moment, you were the one that pulled me through the trauma. Not your colleague that pulled me from the rubble – although he did the hard physical stuff (please pass on my thanks to him as well) – but it was your voice over the phone that made me hang on, made me not give up.

Even though I could barely speak, you filled the silence trapping me, you kept me focussed on the now, not the state I was in, but what I had to live for. You kept me focussed, kept me thinking about the future, not my present state at that time.

I don't know why I am writing this, you probably don't even remember me, or that day. It must be among thousands that you deal with all the time. I was caught in the last great Earthquake that happened in Japan, six months ago. I had managed to call for help, via my phone, even though I was trapped – voice activation is a wonderful thing - thank heavens the Tracy Corporation finally got the bugs out of that system is all I can say.

And then you were there.

Saying you were International Rescue, you were busy triangulating my position, that I was going to be okay, and what my name was, asking me where I was located in the building. Then you began talking to me, telling me different things, keeping me aware of myself and what was going on, but at no time, once I began hearing your voice, did I feel like I was going to die, that I was going to be forgotten.

I know it's not much, and you probably do this a dozen times a day or something, but I felt I just had to let you know something. One of the last things you said to me, before your colleagues pulled me out, was that I had to keep awake, keep focussed, keep going... and then you asked me what did I have to live for, asked me to tell you what was important to me... and I answered you with family.

But what I didn't get the chance to tell you was that the reason family was important was that my wife was eight and a half months pregnant with our first child, and that it was my last day at work so that we could be together for the birth of our baby.

Your friends rescued me, and therefore rescued my hope.

So in all good conscious I could not let you know the difference you made, not only in my life, but in the life and the life of my now beautiful daughter – Kibo – which means hope. And that is what you gave me that day.

So, I wanted to thank you again for giving me my Hope, my Kibo.

Please find enclosed a photo of my wife and my daughter. I felt it was very important that I share them with you, so that you know you made a difference. You, a voice over the phone, made a difference to me - a lowly bank clerk stuck in a building that collapsed trying to get home to be with his pregnant wife.

So thank you sir, whoever you are.

And may your Christmas be as blessed as mine now is.

Hitori Su

John finished reading the letter and without realising it, wiped a tear away from his eyes. But Mr Su was wrong, he did remember. He remembered every single voice he talked to, every single rescue he helped his brothers co-ordinate, and every single person he calmed down, gave hope to, helped to keep on track, he remembered them all.

Wiping his eyes clear again he then looked down at the photo in his hand. It showed a young couple holding a beautiful baby girl, in a little one piece that had the International Rescue logo on it. They were obviously very much in love, and very happy with their little bundle of joy.

And now John understood why this letter, this one letter out of thousands, got to him. Got hand delivered to him, because this one letter summed up all the others they received over the years. This one letter was the very reason their organisation existed.

And this one letter made it all worth it. All the sacrifices they made, all the secrecy, all the danger, tough decisions and terrible situations. This one letter was why they did it.

There was no better Christmas present on earth that John could have received this year.