Title: Dear Santa

Author: Dark Roswellian Angel

Elizabeth McDowell

Disclaimer: I do. I so totally do. Which means that Alec will, of course, be waiting for me in my stocking Christmas morning. Bring on the Christmas cheer :)

Copying/Downloading/Posting: Please let me know first, and let me know where my work will be posted as I would love to come visit it. Make sure that it is put under my name, as I would love to hear how others feel about it. Thanks ;)

Rating: K+, just in case

Synopsis: 8-(short)parter. Snow Day in Las Vegas, NV put me in the mood. It's Christmas time, and several people are writing their letters to Santa. A lot of those letters seem to have a recurring theme. Find out what it is and whether or not Santa will respond. I will update one chapter a day and finish on Christmas Day- It's a Merry Christmas present to my readers.

A/N: Part 7 is up. Yay! This may be just a touch late- last minute shopping, wrapping presents, spending Christmas Eve with family and all. I'm so excited- I'm working on the last 2 chapters, and I'm still thoroughly enjoying writing this fic. Maybe I should consider doing a New Year's Eve one, too- holiday fics are fun.

It was Christmas Eve, and beyond the normal chaos and stress, two thoughts were playing through everyone's minds. After yesterday's letters, they were all wondering if and when they may be asked to use the training Santa had drilled into them when they first joined his unit. None of them were too worried about that, though- they were well prepared and felt fully ready to join in the fight if needed. So you might say that thought was rather secondary to the thought that was really plaguing their minds- today was the last day they could receive letters for this year's season. What if she didn't write???

The day felt like it was dragging on. They tried, and for the most part succeeded, in focusing on the hustle and bustle of the day's schedule. They finished all the toys and loaded them into the sleigh. They knew Mrs. Claus was filling Santa with all the good substantial foods that would get him through the night as well as all the sugary foods that would keep him on his toes. The reindeer were well-fed, well-rested, and harnessed with their spitshined bells flashing on either side. Every inch of the sleigh and connectors was gone over with a fine-tooth comb- there was no room for errors. Everything was proceeding just as it should.

When the Mail Call Bell rang out it's traditional Christmas Eve carol, all of the elves dropped the last minute chores they were finishing and trooped to the Opening Room full of some mixture of dread and anticipation. None of them were surprised today to see Mrs. Claus already comfortably standing beside Santa's chair, though they were surprised that Santa was already there. He must be really hoping to hear from her if he was waiting in here instead of getting ready. No one said a word as Santa bent to the work of opening the letters in the very underfilled sack (after all, very few people would send letters this late in the season. It's like a craft store- really busy at the beginning of the season, but by the time the big day actually arrives, it's pretty empty because everything that could be crafted probably already has been). By the time he'd read the tenth letter, they were all beginning to despair of hearing from her. There were only two letters left- what were the chances hers would be one of them? Pretty good, as it turned out. With a smile and a bit of flair, Santa pulled out the letter they'd all been waiting for and began to read.

Dear Santa,

Sorry I'm writing this so late. I don't guess I'm gonna be earning any brownie points for putting this off for so long. Only, I wasn't really sure I was gonna write this thing in the first place. See, I figure you're kind of like this season- all stuck on the idea of hope. Hope that things will work out. Hope that you'll get what you want. Hope that all your loved ones will be happy. Hope that this world and everyone in it can be saved. Hope that all your dreams will come true. And in my experience, hope is just a trick people trip behind because they can't deal with the real. And that's why I wasn't going to write to you- because I don't want to get my hopes up and then have them crash down around my head. I've lost enough already in this short, strange little life of mine. I don't want to lose the few dreams I've still got. But as I got to thinking about it, I realized that maybe hope is more than that. Maybe hope is a way of looking at life and seeing the better parts of it, the parts that make it so that you can be happy even when you don't have everything you might want. And I like that. I'd like to be happy. And I'd like if everybody I care about could be happy, too. So I figured maybe I should write to you.

I guess I should admit that part of what convinced me that I should write is the fact that everyone else around here seems to be writing to you- OC, Sketchy, Joshua, even Logan and Normal. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised that I caught them writing to who may just be a figment of some hopeful person's imagination- for the most part they've had somewhat sheltered lives, even Joshua is still pretty much an innocent. What did surprise me was when I was walking over to him and I saw him slide a piece of paper away from me so that I couldn't see what he was doing- well, go figure, I had to know so I distracted him and was able to get it away from him just long enough to see that it was a letter addressed to you. I hadn't even thought it possible that he could still believe in something or someone like you. I mean, he's had it just as tough as me, maybe worse in some ways. It made me start thinking. After all, if he's still able to believe in a better future, then maybe it is possible.

So I figured I'd write to you, even though I'm not entirely sure what I want to ask for. Happiness. Safety. Hope maybe. I'd like it if everyone I care about and all the people I feel responsible for because it's my fault they're out there in this cold, harsh world all alone instead of at least bunked in with their units could be happy. I'd like it if they could be back together again and free from Manticore and the people who would hurt them. I'd like to know that my friends are safe and that good things are happening to them. Love. I'd definitely like them all to find love. Well, maybe not. After all, in my experience love can have this really sick habit of hurting the people who open up to it. Maybe if it was possible to have it and not hurt, maybe then it would be a good thing. Yeah, I think even I'd like to have it then . Except…. there's something that keeps me from that possibility, and I guess we're supposed to ask for something for ourselves in these letters, so what I'd really like… what I sometimes even let myself hope for… it'll probably sound strange, but… I'd really like to stop being afraid.

I'm so tired of being scared, and I feel like I'm scared of everything- yeah, strong, proud, soldier me is afraid of everything. I'm scared that one day I won't be strong enough and the guys in the black helicopters will capture me. I'm scared that one day I won't be able to protect the people I care about. I'm scared that when I finally find what's left of my family, they won't accept me. I'm scared that one day all my secrets will be blown out there for everyone to see and the people I care about will freak out and look at me just like OC did for some of the longest moments of my life in Logan's kitchen. I'm scared that one day I'll wake up and find out that I never really made it out of Manticore- that I'm still there and they're still forcing me to fight and they're still testing me. I'm afraid that all of this running and hiding to stay free isn't worth anything because I've never really lived anyway. I think maybe that's what I'm most afraid of. Because if I haven't really lived, then what's the point anyway?

No, you know what? There's something else I'm even more scared of. I'm scared of living. I'm scared of taking the big chances, opening my heart, letting people in. I'm scared of believing that people can change and that the one person who could own my heart would ever want to. See, somehow during the past year, I've realized that there is only one person in this whole world who I could ever open up to completely and he's the one person I don't know if I could ever do that with, if that makes sense. See, I see something in him that no one else seems to be able to see. I see his heart. I see how the world affects him and how he hides from it, just like me, and I see how much he wants to open himself up to it. Only we're really similar- we're both scared. Maybe it's because of how we grew up- man, those guys really screwed with our heads. Only his head is even more screwed with 'cause o' how I got out and then they punished him for it. I gotta figure there's a special place in Hell all picked out for them, well, if God likes transgenics anyway.

You know what? Forget about me. I can handle myself- I always have. If I can only wish for one thing, it's for him to be okay. I know that he claims to be alright- that's his thing. But he isn't. He's hurting, and it kills me to see it and not know how to make it better. I want him to be happy and safe and have what he really wants. I know he probably told you that what he really wants is all the chicks that he goes home with every night, but that's the scared him talking. That's the him that he shows to the world so that he can hide the real him in plain sight. That's the him who's cocky and self-assured and so damn gorgeous a girl can barely see straight when he's working her, but it's not the real him. The real him is the one who can steal your breath away. That's the him who can hold you close and tell you that even your worst sins are forgiven, the one who is willing to give up his life because he doesn't want to do the wrong thing and he cares more about others than he does himself, the one who is willing to spend time with you even when you're in a funk because he knows that you need someone with you. That's the him who makes you laugh when you're hurting with all his laughing and his talking and his breathing, and who brings you out of a bad mood by teasing you and then lets you hit him up the backside of the head just to prove that you didn't need his help, even though you both know you did. He's the only person I know who can make you feel special with just a touch or a glance or a word. He is the most special person I know, and he deserves so much more than what he's had. So, if I can only have one thing, Santa, if you exist, could you please bring Alec his dreams?

Thanks,

Max

Santa looked up with a happy expression that was mirrored everywhere he looked. Any doubts of whether Max was what everyone had written about her had been erased. "Well, she is definitely worthy of what we've got planned for her. Let's get to work." With that, Santa stood up and walked out the door, the elves trailing. Several last minute packages were put into his sleigh, and then he was off. As he flew across the sky with the moon shining brightly behind him, he looked down at his home and his family and called out, "Merry Christmas to all and to all a transgenic goodnight!"

(Just so we're clear, this is not the end quite yet. I will be putting the next, and final, chapter up just as soon as I possibly can.)