"What is Santa getting for you?
The innocent question set off repercussions which would forever remain in the minds of every inhabitant of Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters.
Jean turned and blinked at Jamie. "Santa Claus?"
Jamie nodded.
"Uh-I don't know," she said with a smile, "hopefully a new soccer ball."
Jamie grinned, "I hope he's bringing me a new sled."
Jean smiled at him, "Did you write him a letter?"
"Write who a letter?" Scott asked as he walked into the kitchen, munching on a cherry-flavored candy cane.
"Santa," Jean said, "Jamie wants a new sled."
Scott paused mid-chew, "Santa?"
Jean nodded.
"Oh." Scott nodded, "yeah, Santa Claus. The jolly man in red. Right."
"What do you want Santa to bring you?" Jamie asked innocently.
"Er-" Scott wracked his mind, "a new set of shocks for my car."
"Oh." Jamie made a face. "That's---kinda boring."
Scott chuckled, "yeah. I guess it is."
"Well I'm going to go finish watching my movie," Jamie said, skipping off through the kitchen door. As soon as he was gone, Scott turned to Jean.
"What do you mean, Santa, Jean? He doesn't know-"
"Apparently not," Jean said, chewing on one of her finger nails. "What are we going to do, Scott?"
"Well he's what, almost eleven?"
Jean nodded.
"Do you think we should tell him before he finds out the hard way?"
"No!' Jean exclaimed. "Next year, Scott, but not now. I mean, he's so innocent. Shouldn't he be able to enjoy at least one last year of being a kid?"
Scott sighed, sitting down at the kitchen table. Rubbing his temples, he nodded. "Yeah, it's not right. But how are we going to pull this off? Bobby's bound to say something-"
At that moment, three Jamie's went bolting through the kitchen, tears flowing down their cheeks like rivers.
"JAMIE!" Bobby came racing after him, "Wait!"
"What's going on?" Jean demanded of Bobby.
"I, oh crap, well said something about Santa not being real. But seriously, I had no idea he didn't know!" Bobby's blue eyes were wide, "I mean, if I did know, I wouldn't tell him. That's like, just plain cruel."
Jean sighed, letting her head rest on the table top as she took a seat next to Scott. "Sit down, Bobby. We need to figure out a way to fix this."
It was Christmas night when Scott found Jamie sitting forlornly on the couch in front of the Christmas tree in all of it's glory. When the Professor did Christmas, he really did Christmas. The tree was at least eight feet high. Luckily the room had a high-arched ceiling, offering plenty of room for the tree to stand tall, a glowing, golden star adorning the top. The branches were draped in silver and gold tinsel, which reflected the softly glowing white lights strung around the tree. The students had pitched in together to decorate the tree. Beautiful glass balls and decorations covered the tree. It was a truly beautiful sight.
"Hey," Scott flopped down on the couch next to the young boy. "What's up?"
"Nothin'," the boy said, head propped up on his hand as he gazed at the tree.
"You look kind of down. It's Christmas Eve, I mean, like only the third best day of the year."
"The third?"
Jamie sat up and looked at Scott.
"Well there's Christmas Day," Scott ticked off on his fingers, "your Birthday, and then finally Christmas Eve."
Jamie smiled, "yeah, I guess you're right." He went back to looking sadly at the tree.
"What's wrong, Jamie?" Scott asked gently.
"I just-well, Bobby told me there's no Santa," Bobby once again looked at Scott, big, brown, puppy dog eyes dark and sad.
"Oh," Scott said, acting surprised. "Really?"
"Yeah, we were watching TV, and I said: "I know Santa is going to bring me the sled I asked him for. And then Bobby said: "You mean the Professor, right?" And then I said: "No, Santa Claus." And Bobby was like, "yeah but the Professor is Santa Claus."
"Oh," Scott nodded sagely, "You know, someone tried to tell me the same thing when I was a kid."
"Really?" Bobby blinked, "what did you do?"
"I went to check for myself," Scott said confidently, "and I saw him."
"Saw who?" Bobby asked eagerly.
"Why, Santa Claus of course," Scott smiled happily at the young mutant.
"You saw Santa?" Jamie asked in disbelief.
"Yep, I was eight years old," Scott confided.
"So you believe in Santa?" Bobby asked, voice so innocent, Scott had to hide a wince at having to lie to him.
"Of course I do."
"So, what should I do?" Jamie asked, finally looking happy.
"Well, you could always see for yourself," Scott suggested, "you know, like I did."
Jamie nodded, "you know what? I think I will."
That night, Bobby accompanied a very sleepy Jamie downstairs, dressed in their pajamas. It was almost midnight, and all of the inhabitants of the mansion, who were still there, were in bed. Minus a select few that is.
Jean had forgone her usual trek to her parents house on Christmas Eve, instead deciding on going Christmas Day instead, citing the bad condition of the roads as her excuse. In reality, she, Scott, and Bobby had a very meticulous plan set up.
"Look, Jamie," Bobby whispered loudly, "there's no one down here. Can we go back to bed now?"
"No," Jamie insisted, "Scott said he saw Santa when he was a kid. I need to prove to you that Santa is real."
"Okay, okay. Chill out," Bobby resigned himself. They were hidden behind the banister on the staircase. It wasn't the best hiding spot, but it was perfect for this situation.
Five minutes passed, and then ten.
"Maybe he's not coming," Jamie whispered more to himself than Bobby.
Bobby frowned, wondering what was going on.
And then suddenly, there was a rustling from the shadows of the room. Out of seemingly nowhere, a figure draped in scarlet came out, hefting a heavy burlap bag. The only feature Jamie and Bobby could see was the heavy white beard obstructing the man's face. Jamie gasped, and Bobby carefully concealed his grin.
"It's Santa," Jamie whispered, "he's really real, Bobby. Told ya so."
Bobby smiled at him, "yeah, I guess you were right."
Jamie watched in fascination as he saw Santa finish laying out all of the gifts carefully underneath the tree, nibble on the cookies Jamie and Scott had left out for the jolly night visitor, sip the glass of milk carefully, and then, walking over to the fireplace, disappear up the dark space in a flash of red and green sparkles.
"WOW! BOBBY!" Jamie exclaimed loudly, "did you see-'
Bobby clamped a hand over Jamie's mouth, "keep it down," he growled, "you're going to wake up the entire place!"
"Wow. I need to go tell Scott," Jamie scrambled up the stairs.
"No, Jamie-" Bobby tried to grab him, "wait!"
When Jamie opened Scott's door, he trotted silently over the carpet. "Scott?"
The form in the bed shifted, sitting up. With the blue quilt on the bed pulled up to his chin, Scott sat up, eyes obscured behind his odd ruby quartz sleeping goggles. "Wha-Jamie? What are you-I mean, are you okay?"
'Yeah. Scott, I just saw SANTA," the younger mutant bounced on the balls of his bare feet, "Bobby and I saw him and he was real. You were right! It was so awesome, I mean. Wow."
Scott grinned sleepily at him, "good for you, kid. But now it's time to go to bed."
Bobby burst into the room, gaping as he saw Scott, but recovering nicely.
"Yeah, we really did see Santa," Bobby said with a smile.
"So I've heard," Scott noted, "but I think it's time you two went to bed. I have a feeling it will be an exciting day tomorrow."
Bobby nodded, grabbing Jamie by the shoulder and spinning him around.
"G'Night you two. And Merry Christmas," Scott called quietly after them.
"'Night Scott, and thanks," Jamie poked his head back into the room before Bobby tugged him away.
As soon as the two were gone, Scott leaned back into his pillows with a relieved sigh revealing that he was wearing a red Santa suit underneath his quilt. Jean opened the door of his closet, grinning.
"This costume is itchy," Scott complained.
"You were great," Jean sat down next to him, and, kissing him on the cheek, stood up again. "Goodnight Santa."
"G'Night Mrs. Claus," Scott shot back cheekily.
Jean mock-glared at him before winking at him. "You did a great thing, Slim."
"And I'd have to say that was a great illusion," Scott said, "he had no idea I just walked out of the room instead of actually going up the chimney."
Jean giggled, "I can't wait until I have kids. This was so much fun."
"Me too."
They exchanged embarrassed looks.
"Well, see you in," Scott checked his alarm clock, "four and a half hours."
"Yeah," Jean, "Merry Christmas, Scott."
"You too, Red."
The next day, the Professor smiled knowingly at his young charges as Jamie gleefully told everyone about his and Bobby's experience seeing Santa early that morning. He knew they would figure something out to do in the end. After all, no one likes to ruin the Christmas spirit.
It wasn't until all of the presents were opened and the children and teenagers had taken their new items upstairs when Xavier found one last gift sitting on the edge of the bookshelf.
Curiously, he wheeled over to it, taking it down and looking at it. On the small tag, it read: "To Charles, from Santa."
Shaking his head, Xavier chuckled, opening the package carefully. Underneath the gaily colored Christmas wrapping paper, Xavier found a plain, varnished wood box. Opening that gingerly, his jaw dropped. With shaking hands, he took the small glass ornament out of the velvet lining of the box. In his palm sat a delicate glass bird, a robin, it's wings arched in flight. It had been his favorite ornament when he was a child, but this was impossible. There was no physical way that this could happen. He had watched his stepbrother smash the glass bird into a thousand pieces one Christmas day so many years before in a spiteful rage.
But there it sat in his shaking palm.
'Maybe,' he thought to himself, lovingly running a finger over the wings, 'just maybe there really is a Santa Claus.'