Holy Night

by

Captain Anonymous

It was Christmas Eve. The snow fell over the empty streets, it had been snowing for the better part of the day. It was early evening, the darkness had fallen. The light from the street lamps shimmered against the blankets of white snow. Townsend sat at his desk, looking at the piles of paper that were stacked. He lifted the warm cup of coffee, and took a sip. For the better part of the day, he had added some brandy to the coffee. But as the time passed, and the day grew longer, he added less coffee and more brandy. Many of the Preventers were still on duty in the building.

This was the day, the day that held so much importance. So many battles were fought on Christmas Eve, it was such an important anniversary to the war. Everyone feared that someone would shatter the peace. But now, with only a few hours until midnight, the chances of that happening seemed pass with the falling snow. Townsend lifted his cup and took a sip. He would stay on duty for the rest of the night. He placed the cup back down on the desk. It was another Christmas that he would spend alone.

A few days ago, he had gone to see Trowa. It was one the few times he had seen him since he had left the service. There was a different look about him. Something different. He no longer had the same look in his eyes that he did when he was fighting during the bloody skirmishes. They looked more calm, more compassionate now, full newly found emotion, away from the sorrow of the

battlefield. Townsend still felt some jealousy towards the younger man. Trowa had more then he did. He had a family, a child, a loving wife. A place to go home to. People who cared if he lived or died. Townsend still had the meaningless ranks and titles. They did little to comfort him. They were burdens, reminding him of the battles he had fought.

Still, it had been good to see his former comrade again. Townsend spent only an hour with Trowa and Midii, before he had to go back on duty. He also saw the small angel, Trowa’s daughter.

For a few minutes, he fell in love with the small angel. She made it all seem worth it. Townsend remembered his wound in his chest, he still felt the dull pain from time to time. Where the shot fired by Ralph Kurt cut into him. Townsend chose himself to go against Kurt, decided to put his own life in front of Trowa’s. He had seen two officers fall only a short time before, two young soldiers. Course and Ordway. The memories of what happened would stay with him. He knew Trowa had somewhere to go back to. Someone he loved. He wasn’t going to let Trowa fall in battle. The last thing he wanted was to see Midii and Marie live alone, go on

with out Trowa. Holding the small angel that cold December afternoon, it was all worth

it. There was nothing he would have changed. He would have still taken that bullet. The small angel would grow up with a father, and have a family. And live in this world without war.

Townsend moved his hand across to the half full bottle of brandy on the edge of the desk. The office was empty. He would go on for the rest of the night, waiting for the word of an attack, a bombing, a demonstration of some sort that he knew was not coming. He knew that the world had changed. Soldiers like him and Trowa were no longer needed. Trowa and Mitchell had gone on to start over in life, and live their lives.

Townsend had thought so much about what it would have been like, what have could have been.

The brandy brought out the memories that he had kept hidden from view. The Christmas days he had spent alone, on duty, counting the minutes and seconds until the time when he would be off duty. It seemed almost ironic now. Old soldiers bask in their duty, find solace in it, young soldiers look away from it, looking for something else. Something more. For some there was nothing more. Going home, the Christmas parties that would go on, the long endless dances, the love that would never blossom, the relationships that fell apart. All was left was the faint smell of perfume on the gold uniform braid. Townsend was alone.

Townsend covered the bottle and held it in his hand for a moment. Maybe there was going to be something more. He knew that this was going to be his last Christmas on duty. It end, one way or another. He placed the bottle inside his desk. Maybe there would be something more.

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The silence was broken as the clock chimed. The echo of the chime reflected off the wine glasses on the bedside table.

Trowa looked into his wife’s blue eyes as they laid together. He could her moan softly as his hands touched her warm body. “It looks like it’s after midnight Trowa.” Trowa smiled slightly, “Merry Christmas Midii.”

Midii laid her head against his chest, and closed her eyes. In the silence, she listened to the sound of his heart beating. Her long blonde hair spread out against his skin.

The air in the room was cold, Trowa could feel the warm touch of his wife against his body.

The cold night air, it reminded him so much of the Christmas days he had gone through. The feeling of cold would never go away. When he had been a soldier, he never had anywhere to go home to, or anyone to be with. Most of the time, around Christmas, or the weeks before

and after, every man would leave the posts to go home, or spend time with someone, just to escape the cold battlefield. He had always looked at people Ralph and Trowa, they both had families, both had somewhere to go. Trowa always had felt alone. Left alone, he would look at the winter night sky, off to the horizon where he could see the bright lights. That was where he wanted to go, towards the lights of a town. Somewhere, away from the battlefield. He always felt that he was outside of the world looking in, like everyone was at a party, and he was left behind. Left on the outside. Left to be alone. Those memories, those horrible memories. He wouldn’t have to fight anymore. He wouldn’t be alone anymore.

He could feel Midii touching his skin, as she moved her hand along his side. Trowa moved his hand along her stomach, rubbing his hand gently along her soft skin. She made a soft noise as he touched her body. The Christmas before had been their first together. That night he

remembered everything. The way she felt in his arms. That night, he remembered moving his hand along her stomach, remembering the sound her voice when she told him that he was going to be a father. His unborn daughter had been inside of her.

He never could tell her just how much he loved her that night. It had been the first Christmas he had lived through, the first one where he was not alone.