Fic: Jeremiah: Secret Santa
Title: Secret Santa
Fandom: Jeremiah
Characters: Mister Smith, Sister Hannah, Rose
Words: 1,124
Rating: G
Note: for belleferret, who asked for Mister Smith and making lists
Disclaimer: The world of Jeremiah, before or after the Big Death, does not belong to me. Just passing through.
“I always did love this time of year,” said Sister Hannah. “I still do,” she amended.
Mister Smith envied her wistful expression, clearly filled with pleasant memories of Before. “Did you have traditions?”
“Oh my, yes! What family didn’t? Christmas--” She paused, shook her head, and corrected herself, “Solstice had that in common with every Faith. The traditions might have been different from one religion to another, but they all celebrated this time of year in some way.”
They stood just inside the room’s wide doorway, for the moment unobserved by the enthusiastic occupants. The affluent mansion’s ballroom had long ago ceased entertaining debutants and celebrities. The Big Death cared little for money or social status. Its scythe had cut through both poor and affluent with devastating equality. Fifteen years later, the cavernous room was reborn as a gymnasium and playground for the orphaned children who found safe haven from the horrors and hardship of the world beyond the secluded estate.
Today, it was being dressed to serve a new calling as a Solstice wonderland. A tall pine tree stood at its very heart, it’s sweeping, lush green branches filling the room with a fresh, natural scent. More pine boughs, woven into garlands and swags, were draped over the doorway lintels and tall windows.
“The children are very excited,” Sister Hannah continued. “They’ve heard stories of the festivals and customs but have never actually seen them. We’re hoping this will give them a feel for what it was like.”
“Before.”
She nodded. Before. It was a word heavy with memory and regret for most. In Mister Smith’s case, there were no memories of Before. If there had ever been a Christmas or a Hanukah in his life, it was bricked behind the same mental wall that held captive all of his other experiences before the Big Death reshaped the world.
“They’ve been making ornaments and decorations all week.” Sister Hannah laughed as a small boy dragged a long chain of bright red berries across the gleaming hardwood floor. Amazingly, none of the other children milling around the tree trod on the homemade garland as it made its way to the holiday mecca. “As you can see, some of them got quite ambitious. Oh! Which reminds me!”
She reached into a pocket of her threadbare cardigan and removed a small, neatly folded square of paper.
“Here’s the list,” she said quietly as she placed it into Mister Smith’s waiting hand. “There are thirty-four names. If it’s too many-“
“It’s never too many.” He took the list and carefully tucked it away, out of sight but safe in his keeping. “Children are a treasure.” Especially these children, each and every one of whom was a shining light of Hope for the future.
“I apologize in advance for some of the requests. You’ll find a few that are pretty impossible.”
“I’ve seen Markus and Kurdy do impossible things,” he assured her. “Miracles, sometimes.”
“It will take a miracle to produce a ten speed bicycle and an intact copy of the complete Chronicles of Narnia,” she sighed. “I suppose it’s in the nature of children to dream of the impossible.”
“And to Believe,” Mister Smith reminded her, his expression earnest. “It’s important to Believe.”
Before the Sister could offer her thoughts on the matter, a small, exuberant voice exclaimed, “You’re here! You’re here!”
A six year old dynamo sped across the room toward them, strawberry blonde braids flying. Mister Smith had just enough time to drop his knapsack and fall to his knees before she literally jumped into his arms.
“I knew you’d come! I just knew it!” This declaration was followed by a resounding kiss on his cheek. “See, Sister? I told you he was coming.”
“Yes, you did,” the Sister nodded sagely. It was amazing, really, how the child always seemed to know when her father was coming to visit, no matter how far away he might be at the time. God truly does move in mysterious ways, she thought. “Rose has something to show you.”
“I made an ornament for the Solstice Tree! Come see!” Grasping his left hand firmly between hers, she began to tug. “Come SEE!!”
Mister Smith shrugged an apology to Sister Hannah before allowing himself to be pulled across the room toward the swirl of activity.
“I didn’t hang it yet. I wanted you to be here to see it first and then we can hang it together.” Still tugging, Rose drew him around to the other side of the tree, hiding the doorway and Sister Hannah from view. Once there, she pulled him down to her level again.
“Is she looking?” asked Rose in a worried voice. She tried to peep through the heavy boughs but only saw greenery.
Mister Smith shook his head. “No one’s looking. Not right now.” Expectant, he held out his hand, palm up.
“We listened and listened all week. All of us, in every class. Sometimes at bedtime too, at prayers or when they thought we were sleeping.” Rose dug far down into the pocket of her pink striped overalls, and pulled out a neatly folded piece of orange construction paper. “Sister Mary Margaret was the hardest because she doesn’t talk much, but Jonah figured out what she needs and put it on the list.”
Reverently, she gave the paper over to Mister Smith’s keeping. “I’m sorry if some of them are really really hard to do, but it’s what they want. Sometimes it’s what they need, but can’t get.”
“The Mountain can do some amazing things.”
“Don’t forget anybody!”
“We won’t. I promise.” As Rose watched, Mister Smith slipped the note into a very safe place. “Now. Did I hear something about a tree decoration?”
“Here it is!” Rose bent down and picked up a neat little square of cloth. “Careful when you open it,” she warned, holding it out to him with both hands.
With the exaggerated care one might use to touch an ancient sheet of paper, Mister Smith opened the folds of cloth to reveal the treasure inside. The ornament was made of bits of scrap telephone wire and beads, stripped of old plastic until multicolored metal caught the light. ‘
“Do you know what it is?”
Mister Smith considered the object for a moment then smiled. “It’s the Pleiades.”
Rose jumped up and down, clapping her hands in delight. “It is! It is! I knew you’d recognize it.”
“Of course I did,” he said with an answering smile. “They’re your favorite.”
“Will you help me hang it?”
“I would be honored.”
Lifting Rose into his arms so that she could reach one of the higher boughs, father and daughter hung the stars on a leafy green sky.
Fandom: Jeremiah
Characters: Mister Smith, Sister Hannah, Rose
Words: 1,124
Rating: G
Note: for belleferret, who asked for Mister Smith and making lists
Disclaimer: The world of Jeremiah, before or after the Big Death, does not belong to me. Just passing through.
“I always did love this time of year,” said Sister Hannah. “I still do,” she amended.
Mister Smith envied her wistful expression, clearly filled with pleasant memories of Before. “Did you have traditions?”
“Oh my, yes! What family didn’t? Christmas--” She paused, shook her head, and corrected herself, “Solstice had that in common with every Faith. The traditions might have been different from one religion to another, but they all celebrated this time of year in some way.”
They stood just inside the room’s wide doorway, for the moment unobserved by the enthusiastic occupants. The affluent mansion’s ballroom had long ago ceased entertaining debutants and celebrities. The Big Death cared little for money or social status. Its scythe had cut through both poor and affluent with devastating equality. Fifteen years later, the cavernous room was reborn as a gymnasium and playground for the orphaned children who found safe haven from the horrors and hardship of the world beyond the secluded estate.
Today, it was being dressed to serve a new calling as a Solstice wonderland. A tall pine tree stood at its very heart, it’s sweeping, lush green branches filling the room with a fresh, natural scent. More pine boughs, woven into garlands and swags, were draped over the doorway lintels and tall windows.
“The children are very excited,” Sister Hannah continued. “They’ve heard stories of the festivals and customs but have never actually seen them. We’re hoping this will give them a feel for what it was like.”
“Before.”
She nodded. Before. It was a word heavy with memory and regret for most. In Mister Smith’s case, there were no memories of Before. If there had ever been a Christmas or a Hanukah in his life, it was bricked behind the same mental wall that held captive all of his other experiences before the Big Death reshaped the world.
“They’ve been making ornaments and decorations all week.” Sister Hannah laughed as a small boy dragged a long chain of bright red berries across the gleaming hardwood floor. Amazingly, none of the other children milling around the tree trod on the homemade garland as it made its way to the holiday mecca. “As you can see, some of them got quite ambitious. Oh! Which reminds me!”
She reached into a pocket of her threadbare cardigan and removed a small, neatly folded square of paper.
“Here’s the list,” she said quietly as she placed it into Mister Smith’s waiting hand. “There are thirty-four names. If it’s too many-“
“It’s never too many.” He took the list and carefully tucked it away, out of sight but safe in his keeping. “Children are a treasure.” Especially these children, each and every one of whom was a shining light of Hope for the future.
“I apologize in advance for some of the requests. You’ll find a few that are pretty impossible.”
“I’ve seen Markus and Kurdy do impossible things,” he assured her. “Miracles, sometimes.”
“It will take a miracle to produce a ten speed bicycle and an intact copy of the complete Chronicles of Narnia,” she sighed. “I suppose it’s in the nature of children to dream of the impossible.”
“And to Believe,” Mister Smith reminded her, his expression earnest. “It’s important to Believe.”
Before the Sister could offer her thoughts on the matter, a small, exuberant voice exclaimed, “You’re here! You’re here!”
A six year old dynamo sped across the room toward them, strawberry blonde braids flying. Mister Smith had just enough time to drop his knapsack and fall to his knees before she literally jumped into his arms.
“I knew you’d come! I just knew it!” This declaration was followed by a resounding kiss on his cheek. “See, Sister? I told you he was coming.”
“Yes, you did,” the Sister nodded sagely. It was amazing, really, how the child always seemed to know when her father was coming to visit, no matter how far away he might be at the time. God truly does move in mysterious ways, she thought. “Rose has something to show you.”
“I made an ornament for the Solstice Tree! Come see!” Grasping his left hand firmly between hers, she began to tug. “Come SEE!!”
Mister Smith shrugged an apology to Sister Hannah before allowing himself to be pulled across the room toward the swirl of activity.
“I didn’t hang it yet. I wanted you to be here to see it first and then we can hang it together.” Still tugging, Rose drew him around to the other side of the tree, hiding the doorway and Sister Hannah from view. Once there, she pulled him down to her level again.
“Is she looking?” asked Rose in a worried voice. She tried to peep through the heavy boughs but only saw greenery.
Mister Smith shook his head. “No one’s looking. Not right now.” Expectant, he held out his hand, palm up.
“We listened and listened all week. All of us, in every class. Sometimes at bedtime too, at prayers or when they thought we were sleeping.” Rose dug far down into the pocket of her pink striped overalls, and pulled out a neatly folded piece of orange construction paper. “Sister Mary Margaret was the hardest because she doesn’t talk much, but Jonah figured out what she needs and put it on the list.”
Reverently, she gave the paper over to Mister Smith’s keeping. “I’m sorry if some of them are really really hard to do, but it’s what they want. Sometimes it’s what they need, but can’t get.”
“The Mountain can do some amazing things.”
“Don’t forget anybody!”
“We won’t. I promise.” As Rose watched, Mister Smith slipped the note into a very safe place. “Now. Did I hear something about a tree decoration?”
“Here it is!” Rose bent down and picked up a neat little square of cloth. “Careful when you open it,” she warned, holding it out to him with both hands.
With the exaggerated care one might use to touch an ancient sheet of paper, Mister Smith opened the folds of cloth to reveal the treasure inside. The ornament was made of bits of scrap telephone wire and beads, stripped of old plastic until multicolored metal caught the light. ‘
“Do you know what it is?”
Mister Smith considered the object for a moment then smiled. “It’s the Pleiades.”
Rose jumped up and down, clapping her hands in delight. “It is! It is! I knew you’d recognize it.”
“Of course I did,” he said with an answering smile. “They’re your favorite.”
“Will you help me hang it?”
“I would be honored.”
Lifting Rose into his arms so that she could reach one of the higher boughs, father and daughter hung the stars on a leafy green sky.