[Fic] - Advent Challenge: Gundam Wing - Day 1
Title: To Give Than Receive
Pairing: None
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Characters: Duo Maxwell, Father Maxwell, Sister Helen
Rating: G
Words: 750
Written for the adventchallenge with the prompt: Father Maxwell always said that Christmas was about good will towards men, and not about presents; but Duo still wondered why Santa never visited the orphanage (from tealrose39).
Warnings: Depressing plays on Christmas themes.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the characters, places, etc of the Gundam Wing universe. They are property of Sunrise and Bandai. The use of their characters is for entertainment only without intent of profit.
The small church was packed to capacity for Christmas Eve mass; the only time of year that anyone ever seemed to have faith was during the holidays. Father Maxwell stood behind the aging pulpit at the front of the sanctuary re-telling the Christmas story. Duo loved listening to Father Maxwell. His voice was deep and had a soothing timber that resonated through the small space and filled up the empty spaces within your chest with emotions that are too hard to name. Duo’s favourite part of the story was the Magi’s journey through the desert towards Bethlehem with gifts for the infant king.
After mass, a sinking emptiness always filled up the places in his chest where Father Maxwell’s voice had been. The good father always emphasized the importance of giving rather than receiving at Christmas time, but it was difficult to accept when just beyond the walls of the church those who had plenty continued to receive while those who had nothing received just the same.
Outings with Sister Helen in the days leading up to Christmas often resulted in overhearing stern parents reminding their children that, “if you aren’t good, Santa won’t bring you any presents”. Duo never asked about Santa Claus, having gained a reasonable amount of information from the things that parishioners would say as they came and went from mass on Sunday morning, from the excited chatter of children on the crowded sidewalks, and from the old traditional carols that were sung on street corners. What thoughts Duo did have about Santa were saved for late at night, tucked tightly into his lumpy orphanage bed. He wondered what Santa considered good or bad, and often wondered if being an orphan, street rat, thief, undesirable, instantly qualified you as bad, and if that was why he never seemed to have time to stop by orphanage on Christmas morning.
Every year Sister Helen and Father Maxwell would smile fondly at Duo’s sullen disappointment, reminding him that he should be thankful for the things he did have. “That you have a roof over your head and food in your stomach is a gift in itself.” It wasn’t that Duo wasn’t thankful; he was. What he couldn’t understand was why those who were blessed with so much deserved more.
Year after year Duo continued to wonder, becoming cynical and jaded to the Christmas season. It became more and more difficult to be thankful for the roof over his head and the food in his stomach.
Then, on Christmas, Duo woke to a box wrapped in festive paper and a large bow sitting at the end of his bed. The other kids in the orphanage had already gone down for Christmas Day breakfast, and so Duo sat alone dumbfounded in his bed. It couldn’t be, could it? Not after all these years of wishing and wondering and wanting. With shaking hands he reached forward and pulled off the shining bow, pulled at the festive paper to reveal the box beneath. He let out a deep breath as he squeezed a finger below one of the cardboard flaps and opened the box. Inside was a pair of knitted wool socks, several new shirts (new to him, as he could tell they had been purchased second hand), and hand written note that read:
Dear Duo,
Please forgive me for the late delivery. I am an old man and it is difficult for me to make trips to the colonies at Christmas; I must rely on those who are the most capable to do my work for me.
Merry Christmas
Santa Claus
Tears ran hot down his cheeks before he was able to stop them, leaving salty stains on his threadbare shirt. The ice that had formed around his heart began to melt and without a second thought he tore off his ratty shirt and slipped into one of the new ones in the box, making sure to slip the warm socks onto his feet before running down the stairs to join the others for breakfast. Without a word he wrapped his arms around Sister Helen’s waist, pressing his face into her chest. “Thank you,” he whispered.
She touched the top of his head and gave him the same fond smile that he had become so used to seeing on Christmas morning. “Remember to be thankful for what you have,” she reminded him, and Duo swore on that day that he would never forget.
Pairing: None
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Characters: Duo Maxwell, Father Maxwell, Sister Helen
Rating: G
Words: 750
Written for the adventchallenge with the prompt: Father Maxwell always said that Christmas was about good will towards men, and not about presents; but Duo still wondered why Santa never visited the orphanage (from tealrose39).
Warnings: Depressing plays on Christmas themes.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the characters, places, etc of the Gundam Wing universe. They are property of Sunrise and Bandai. The use of their characters is for entertainment only without intent of profit.
The small church was packed to capacity for Christmas Eve mass; the only time of year that anyone ever seemed to have faith was during the holidays. Father Maxwell stood behind the aging pulpit at the front of the sanctuary re-telling the Christmas story. Duo loved listening to Father Maxwell. His voice was deep and had a soothing timber that resonated through the small space and filled up the empty spaces within your chest with emotions that are too hard to name. Duo’s favourite part of the story was the Magi’s journey through the desert towards Bethlehem with gifts for the infant king.
After mass, a sinking emptiness always filled up the places in his chest where Father Maxwell’s voice had been. The good father always emphasized the importance of giving rather than receiving at Christmas time, but it was difficult to accept when just beyond the walls of the church those who had plenty continued to receive while those who had nothing received just the same.
Outings with Sister Helen in the days leading up to Christmas often resulted in overhearing stern parents reminding their children that, “if you aren’t good, Santa won’t bring you any presents”. Duo never asked about Santa Claus, having gained a reasonable amount of information from the things that parishioners would say as they came and went from mass on Sunday morning, from the excited chatter of children on the crowded sidewalks, and from the old traditional carols that were sung on street corners. What thoughts Duo did have about Santa were saved for late at night, tucked tightly into his lumpy orphanage bed. He wondered what Santa considered good or bad, and often wondered if being an orphan, street rat, thief, undesirable, instantly qualified you as bad, and if that was why he never seemed to have time to stop by orphanage on Christmas morning.
Every year Sister Helen and Father Maxwell would smile fondly at Duo’s sullen disappointment, reminding him that he should be thankful for the things he did have. “That you have a roof over your head and food in your stomach is a gift in itself.” It wasn’t that Duo wasn’t thankful; he was. What he couldn’t understand was why those who were blessed with so much deserved more.
Year after year Duo continued to wonder, becoming cynical and jaded to the Christmas season. It became more and more difficult to be thankful for the roof over his head and the food in his stomach.
Then, on Christmas, Duo woke to a box wrapped in festive paper and a large bow sitting at the end of his bed. The other kids in the orphanage had already gone down for Christmas Day breakfast, and so Duo sat alone dumbfounded in his bed. It couldn’t be, could it? Not after all these years of wishing and wondering and wanting. With shaking hands he reached forward and pulled off the shining bow, pulled at the festive paper to reveal the box beneath. He let out a deep breath as he squeezed a finger below one of the cardboard flaps and opened the box. Inside was a pair of knitted wool socks, several new shirts (new to him, as he could tell they had been purchased second hand), and hand written note that read:
Dear Duo,
Please forgive me for the late delivery. I am an old man and it is difficult for me to make trips to the colonies at Christmas; I must rely on those who are the most capable to do my work for me.
Merry Christmas
Santa Claus
Tears ran hot down his cheeks before he was able to stop them, leaving salty stains on his threadbare shirt. The ice that had formed around his heart began to melt and without a second thought he tore off his ratty shirt and slipped into one of the new ones in the box, making sure to slip the warm socks onto his feet before running down the stairs to join the others for breakfast. Without a word he wrapped his arms around Sister Helen’s waist, pressing his face into her chest. “Thank you,” he whispered.
She touched the top of his head and gave him the same fond smile that he had become so used to seeing on Christmas morning. “Remember to be thankful for what you have,” she reminded him, and Duo swore on that day that he would never forget.