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Fan Fiction

Love in the Time of Christmas
Posted By: (ENS) Rabid_Gallagher<anthony.peter.davis@gmail.com>
Date: 25 December 2009, 4:16 am

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"Colonel Farrior, transfer call to CENTCOM secure severs."

"Roger that, sir. Hold one."

"This is CENTCOM Communication Headquarters."

"Hello, this is Colonel Farrior. Can you get me a Slipspace call to Procyon? I need to get in touch with Base Camp MARS."

"Certainly, sir. Hold one."

"Thank you."

"This is…goddamit, Benson! Keep the flap down, don't let the snow in! Sorry, this is Lieutenant Oliver, Base Camp MARS."

"Lieutenant Oliver, this is Colonel Farrior, ONI. I need to speak with Gunnery Sergeant Farrior at her convenience."

"No time like the present, sir. She's in her tent, I'll transfer your call."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."




"It's great to hear your voice."

"Oh, no, trust me. I already feel much better hearing your sweet voice. It's already reminding me of the old, décolleté kisses you used to give me all the time."

"Heh, well, come back home and I'll remind me of them."

"…you know I can't."

"I know, hon. Even though I cry thinking about you on the frontlines, I remember what you told me. It was your choice. You being sent there on your own accord is your decision."

"And yet you did nothing to stop me?"

"Of course I did. I petitioned Colonel Gallagher to send you to some Marine hospital, but he denied it because you're my wife."

"Sound reasoning."

"I told him he had a stick up his ass after that, so I probably lost all chance of getting you home, but yeah, that too."

"Haha, the great berserker himself messing with ONI protocol."

He leaned against the couch.

"Haha, yeah…"

"So, how's Abbie?"

"Abigail is great. Did you get my letter?"

A chuckle was heard from her end.

"Yeah, I did. I can't believe she got into a whole paint can!"

"She's got your spunk."

"Nah, she's got my sister's spunk…I'm sorry again, Randy."

"Please, don't be, Michelle. It's not like I don't love you without them."

"But it meant so much for you to have children. I just…"

"Michelle, if I wanted you to feel guilty, I would be doing a much better job. "

"Are you…"

"I know you hate it when I cut you off, but yes, I am sure."

"Well, then…I feel better."

"I know."

"Merry Christmas, by the way."

"Merry Christmas to you too, Mich."

"I gotta go now, hon…I love you. More than a hummingbird loves the dew of flowers."

"I love you too, beautiful. More than the stone shaped by the waves of a calm beach."

"Goodbye, love…and happy holidays."

The line cut.

Colonel Randall Farrior took a long sip from his glass of whiskey, wincing as he felt the liquid punch his taste buds and trail down his throat. He gasped, licking his lips, not quite expecting the strong kick from the alcohol. He gingerly placed the small glass on the coffee table in front of him, relaxing against the lushness of the couch's exterior. A hand reflexively went to cup around an invisible shoulder on the couch, as if he was trying to rest his arm and pull in someone who wasn't there.

He missed her, a lot. It was getting to the point where he would have to try to forget her before he went to bed, because the nightmares of her dying on the frontlines was enough to make him cry in his sleep.

He gasped, needing a drink to drown out that thought. He grabbed at his bottle of whiskey and poured it into the glass, almost filling it to the rim before gulping down its liquids, sighing as he felt its terrible taste pour down his throat. Already, his mind was turning into mush, something he enjoyed at times like these.

He hated to remember her in that way. She's not a soldier, she's not a Devil Dog. She's an angel.

His angel.

He looked to his left, the fireplace in his living room burning brightly with light and heat, closing his eyes as he felt the waves of warmth wash over his body as he relaxed his back against the couch, taking another sip from his glass.

On the coffee table was one picture, sitting on top of a pile of books and data-slates containing security-coded information. It was him, dressed in a black turtle neck against a gazebo with his wife. His hair was black, soft signs of stubble splattered across his face. His grin was wide as his wife leaned against him, his arms wrapped around her waist. Her smile was not as wide, but it was very delicate, pleasantness not lacking in it as her blonde hair came to her shoulders, a few strands sitting across her face. The sepia tone that colored the picture made it just as romantic as the moment had been when the picture was taken.

Now, he was nothing like that picture. His short but unkempt hair was a far cry to his nearly shaven head, his chin lacking hair in totality. His clear face was now covered in slight scars, one coming from his ear down to his neck. He hated it. In his mind, he was ugly, and he felt he didn't deserve the affections of someone so beautiful as his wife. His lean body was more muscular, brought on by the physical training required by the UNSC Marine Corps. She, though…she didn't change.

"Fuck." He said out loud, the alcohol not blocking out the thoughts he wanted to keep out of his mind as he touched the picture, imagining his wife as if she was standing before him. He opened his eyes, and she wasn't there. He shook his head as he stood up and turned around, staring outside his window.

Outside, it snowed. Around the house, the trees were covered in white powder, and there was no wind. The snow seemingly dropped straight down, calm and well-mannered.

It wasn't supposed to snow like this in Auburn. The thought streaked across Randall's mind as he sighed. He always told Michelle how he wanted to see soft and calm snow in Auburn since they moved here as their permanent residence almost ten years ago. His eyes began to sting as he felt them well-up.

He turned around and placed his fingers on the picture, picking it up by its dark, wooden frame.

"Merry Christmas, beautiful." He whispered, before placing it down on the table and walked out of the room and up on the stairs, in his room.

On the table, the face of Michelle seemingly winked, the man in the picture chuckling silently as he kissed her on the cheek, mistletoe hanging over them as she rested against his chest, before slowly moving back into their original positions, as the snow continued to drop across Auburn County. Even with the Colonel absent, it still dropped softly, and calmly...

Merry Christmas, one and all