From: "Glass November" Date: Mon, 02 Dec 2002 01:49:51 +0000 Subject: Waking, by Glass November Source: direct TITLE: Waking AUTHOR: Glass November (glass_november@hotmail.com) RATING: G CATEGORY: VA SUMMARY: A late-night holiday vignette. DISCLAIMER: They're not mine, but if they were, *I* would share. AUTHOR's NOTES: Sigh. I've fulfilled my obligation for this year, and I even got it done on time! This is for Shane, who went gift-shopping with me. *********************************************************************** The snow falls silently outside, already almost higher than the room's only window. Outside it is dark, and the streets are mostly empty. The night is still and quiet, almost reverent. It is calm and serene, snow falling softly against the black sky. Peaceful. Inside the small office, he sits at his wooden desk. His back is to the window, and he doesn't notice the snow. He is illuminated only by the small lamp on his desk, focused on the papers in front of him. His tie is loosened and his hair is mussed, but despite his exhaustion he refused her arguments to go home, to acknowledge the holiday. He sighs, turning the pages in his report. A missing child, possibly abducted, returning only to run away. Lights in the sky seen since her disappearance. He wonders what else he could be doing, alone in his small apartment on Christmas. He remembers the loneliness of last year, and his resolution to never concede to that again, which was why he was working now, trying to forget about the holiday and everything that went with it. He remembers the last happy Christmas that he had, before she disappeared and holidays seemed hollow and pointless. The idea of family holidays died that night, and he hasn't had any reason since then to revive it. He wonders what she is doing now. She said she was going to her mother's for dinner, and then a celebration the next day. She didn't invite him. He wonders if she knew he would turn her down, and didn't want to make both of them uncomfortable, or if she just didn't think about it. She shouldn't have to - she was his partner, not his sister. But he had hoped they were friends . . . she hadn't said anything at all. Opening his desk drawer, he pulls out the small gift-wrapped box. It looks gaudy and almost pathetically cheerful, his only concession to the holiday. He glances over at her desk and the cards taped to her computer, and back to his comparatively bare desk. He wonders if he will have an opportunity to give her his gift, or if it would be better put away and forgotten. He doesn't want to embarrass her, especially if she forgot about it herself, but he had looked forward to giving it to her. He remembers the day he picked it out. He had saved his allowance for so long, ever since he had seen it in the store window. A simple necklace, a silver chain with a small star charm. He had never gotten a chance to give it to her, and hadn't seen it since that day, until he had found it while going through some of the boxes in his closet. He wondered if she would know what it was, would appreciate what it meant to him. He glances down at the clock on his desk. 12:07. Merry Christmas, he tells himself. Stretching, he rifles through the stack of paperwork on his desk. At least it will be a productive day. He is about to begin the next report when the door opens, and she enters quietly. "Aren't you going home?" she asks softly. He shrugs and manages a half-smile. "At some point." "It's Christmas," she says, both reproaching and pleading. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to your mother's." He ignores her reminder. "I decided to come home in between," she tells him. "I thought . . . " She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small package. "I wanted to give this to you." He smiles. "Thanks." "Are you sure you want to spend the night here?" she asks. Where else would I rather be, he thinks, but doesn't respond. He thinks she blushes a little, but it is hard to tell in the dim light. She lets out a deep breath. "Come on. I'll make you hot cocoa." She waits. He glances back down at the papers on his desk, and then stands, pulling her gift out of his desk. The snow continues to fall, and the radio plays softly in her car as they make their way through the quiet streets. Maybe he'll have a merry Christmas this year, after all.