The One With The Truth About Santa

By: Jana~

Chapter Five

*****

--"I didn't mean it," she told him, holding onto him tightly, as if loosening her grip would result in him disappearing.

"What didn't you mean?" he asked, his embrace of her just as desperate.

"I don't want to call off the wedding," she told him. "I love you! I was just, upset. Over what you said. But, I don't care about that! Whatever problems you're having, we'll work through them together."

Pulling away from her, he softly explained, "I don't want to call off the wedding, either. And I love you, too. So much. But, Monica, this isn't a problem, it's who I am. I'm Santa Claus, not crazy."

She shook her head, frustrated. "Maybe you're not crazy, but, you're also not Santa Claus!"

Smiling, he asked, "How do you know? Have you ever met Santa Claus?"

"Santa Claus isn't real." The tone was unyielding. "So, no, I haven't met him."

"Mon," he asked gently, "Why do you think I'm saying this? Why do you think I am so insistent, that I'm Santa Claus?"

She started to cry, and he quickly gathered her into his arms. "I don't know why you're doing this, I just wish you would stop it now. Please," she begged. "No more games."

Shushing her consolingly, he whispered, "Please don't cry, babe. I'm not playing a game with you. I want so badly to share this with you. You're making it difficult."

Pushing away from him, she stood defiant. "I'm making it difficult? I'm making it difficult?!"

He sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. "If you can't allow yourself to believe, just a little bit, then, I don't have the power to show you."

Frustrated, she wrapped her arms tightly around herself, dropping her tired body onto the edge of the bed. "I don't know what you want from me," she muttered, defeated. "You tell me, what do you want from me?"

Kneeling before her, he placed his hand on her knee, smiling up at her. "I want you to try, Mon. I want you to try and forget, everything you think you know, and look at me without the notions that years of conditioning has taught you."

She sighed. "In English?"

"Look at me with the innocence of a child. Children don't see in black and white, they see in all colors, where anything is possible, and nothing is necessarily absolute. Where monsters under the bed can very well be real, and wishing upon a star can actually work."

"I don't know how to do that."

"Yes," he told her softly, "You do. Do you know why nothing happened when Ross rubbed the pendant?" The question was rhetorical, so he didn't wait for an answer. "Because he believed with all certainty that it wouldn't. Do you know why it did work for you?" he asked, cupping her face, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb. "Because, for a brief moment, you actually believed it could."

"I did?"

Nodding, he said, "I wouldn't be here otherwise. I can see you, hear you, but I can't appear to you, if you have no belief that I can."

"So, if I don't believe that you are Santa Claus, I will never see you again?"

"No. If you don't believe that I am Santa Claus, I cannot appear to you. I can still get home to you, but only by non-magical means."

"What do you mean?"

"It's not unlike transporting, or teleporting, like in a sci-fi movie. If you rub the pendant, and if you believe that I can, then I can will myself to appear."

A heavy sigh escaped, a scowl prominent. "So, let's say, for argument's sake, that you are Santa Claus… where does that leave us?" she asked. "I would be Mrs. Claus, instead of Mrs. Bing? We would have to live at the North Pole, away from our friends?"

"No," he assured her. "Santa Claus isn't a name, it's a title. Like, Chef. Paleontologist. Fashion Consultant. Actor. When we get married, you will be Mrs. Bing, or Geller-Bing, if you plan to hyphenate. And no, we wouldn't live at the North Pole. I only need to be there a few weeks a year, right before Christmas. I also pop in from time to time to check up on things, but that only takes a few hours in this time."

She eyed him warily, taking notice of the way he'd said those last few words. "What does that mean, in this time?"

"I don't know how it works. To scientifically dissect it would ruin the wonderment, and magic of it. But, Santa Claus, and all his employees potentially, have the ability to change the way time is spent. The way it's used."

"And you don't see how crazy this sounds?" she challenged.

"No, I see it, and I reacted the same way, when I was first approached. But, I was being told all this by a stranger," he offered. "I would think that you, would be a little more open to this, since it's me who's telling you about it."

"Oh, don't do that," she shot back. "Don't put this back on me, like I'm being irrational or something! This is a lot to take, ok? I- I don't know what to believe! Do I want to believe you? Yeah! But, it's not as easy as that."

"I know," he relented. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make this harder for you. It's just, all my nightmares are coming true. You have no idea," he told her, "How many times I have woken in the night, after having dreamt that you would act exactly like you're acting. That you wouldn't believe me, and I would have to choose between you and this awesome world."

"And if you had to choose?" she asked carefully.

He smiled, though there was a touch of sadness present. "I would choose you, Monica. And they know that."

"Who's they?" she asked.

"The other employees. The elves."

"There are elves?" she asked. "Like, little people with pointy ears, elves?"

Laughing, he said, "No, no. That's in books and movies. Elves aren't little creatures," he explained. "It's a title. A position; like Santa Claus. They're people, like me, who donate time to this amazing experience."

"And you would give it up, for me?" she asked, and his smile grew wider.

It was the first time that she truly sounded as if she believed in what he was telling her. There were no words of disbelief, no tone of doubt, just a sincere question about where she fit into all he was telling her.

"If you asked me to, I would," he assured her. "But it is my hope, that you would come and see first, before you asked me to."

"Come and see…?" Her dangled sentence left little doubt what she was asking.

Smiling, he held out his hand. "Trust me," he whispered, "And believe it is possible, and I will show you."

Slowly, she reached out, her eyes locking with his as he gently seized her hand in his. "Don't be afraid," he told her, "And don't let go of my hand."

Shimmering lights seemed to appear out of nowhere, surrounding them, and she was very aware of his tightened grasp as everything around her began to blur.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Stepping things up a bit, since Christmas is so close. Man, what am I doing here, writing stories when I should be going out and buying Christmas presents for my family, and buying and decorating a Christmas tree?!

See how much I love you guys? So, spread the love… leave a review!

MTLBYAKY