Other People's Heroes (The Heroes of Siegel City) (41 page)

“I’m
Santa Claus.
Kris Kringle. Saint Nick. I’d show you my driver’s license, but they don’t make you carry one for the sleigh.”

“
Must
you do that?”

“That’s because on December 23 you tricked your little brother into climbing the storm gutter outside your house. He could have been hurt. I even had the oven packed and ready to be loaded into the sleigh when I got the notice that I had to switch you off the ‘Nice’ list. I didn’t
like
doing it, Nancy. If you had waited 36 hours the loot would have been in your hands.”

She let go of his arms entirely at that, standing up, her jaw open. He flexed his arm and pulled himself to his feet. “Does this mean you believe me?” he said.

“Not necessarily,” she said. “I’ve seen enough shapeshifters and mind-readers not to believe any weirdo who shows up knowing things about my childhood. But I’ve seen too much strange stuff to refuse to believe you, either. Convince me. Start with why Santa Claus is skinny this year.”

“The Soul Wraiths,” he said.

“What?”

“You didn’t think I only lived off cookies and milk, did you?” he said. “My power -- my very existence is dependent on the faith people have in me, and in this season. Those Wraiths ate up so much of the hope and love that exist this time of year. It’s causing me to waste away, Nancy. I don’t have the strength to do it this year... not on my own, anyway.”

“So you’re telling me your power wouldn’t build up eventually? Why come crawling to me?”

“A thousand years ago, it may not have mattered, Nancy,” he said, “but we live in such cynical times... times where people believe only in what they can see and touch. The faith of the children in a Santa Claus is one of the few intangibles left. If I miss even one year’s worth of my rounds, the loss of faith would be so devastating I may never recover.”

“And that would be the end of Christmas, I take it?” she said. “I’ve seen this Rankin-Bass special, I think.”

“Not at all, child,” Santa said. “I am not vain enough to believe this season exists because of me, or even that I am the primary participant. The season would survive, even if Santa Claus were to die.”

“Then why should I help you?”

He smiled again, and in that smile she caught a hint of a twinkle, one that almost made her think there was something to this after all. “Oh, Nancy, I saw the way you almost tried to stop that car chase this evening. I was listening in on the phone call when you warned Jay about the Soul Wraiths. I see a thousand other things you do every year, even out of costume, that prove to me you haven’t stopped caring entirely. Wouldn’t be enough for you to know you helped save a life?”

She folded her arms and gave him a skeptical smile. “You know what buttons to push, mister, I’ll give you that. What are you asking?”

“The toys are made,” he said, “and the route prepared. And I’ve found the help for the deliveries -- never you mind how. But I need your power, the power of Lightning, to slow down time for me this evening, or the toys will never be delivered in time.”

“You want me to slow down the
entire world
? I’ve never tried anything that big, I don’t even know if I
could.
”

“You
could,
” Santa said. “If you
believe
you could.”

“Oh man, this
is
a television special, isn’t it?”

“Nancy,
will you
help me?”

“I still don’t know that I believe you.”

His red-gloved hand reached into his natty beard with a scratching motion. Then he smiled and waved his hand in the air, a sack appearing from nowhere. She couldn’t help noticing that it wasn’t quite as full as she would have assumed.

“How about this,” he said, reaching into the sack. “I have two presents for you this year, if you help me. One, you may open now, as evidence. The other will have to wait for Christmas morning.”

He pulled his hand from the sack holding two brightly wrapped parcels. They were both about six inches long, thin enough to be candles, and wrapped at the top with a bow. He placed them side-by-side on her desk. The wrapping of the one on the left looked like it consisted of a many multicolored cords wrapped together all the way up the package. The one on the right, on the other hand, looked like the cords hadn’t been woven at all, and were branching out in all directions with no discernable pattern or logic to them.

“What are they?” she asked.

“Something you want.”

She considered this for a long moment, then reached out and picked up the package on the left. She took the ribbon between her fingers and was about to pull, but looked up at Santa first.

“Go on,” he said.

She slid the ribbon off and opened up the paper. She never saw quite what was inside the package, because the light that consumed her at that moment was far too bright.

“I love it,” Edward said, holding up the sweater she gave him to his chest. It was orange and brown striped, and looked like something someone’s nearsighted grandmother would have crocheted just to get rid of the extra feet of yarn that was cluttering up her sewing closet. “It’s absolutely grand.”

“You’re lying,” she said.

“I most certainly am not.” His British accent still gave her gooseflesh, and the smile he wore was quite possibly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

“Yes you are. You’re a wonderful man, Edward, and you’re the most beloved superhero on Earth because you’re so good and honest. And part of the reason you’re so honest is because you’re the worst liar I’ve ever seen. You
hate
the sweater.”

“I do
not
hate the sweater,” he insisted. “I’m not particularly fond of the way it
looks
, I admit, but I don’t hate the sweater itself. What is it, wool?”

“Cotton.”

“Oh, good. I’d hate to think innocent sheep are wandering around naked for this monstrosity.” She laughed and hit him at the same time. That was the sort of relationship they had, where either of them could slap the other on the arm or shoulder and it meant the same thing as a kiss, which is what he gave her in response to the blow. “All right,” he said, “my turn now.”

He stood up and walked around the apartment, which looked the same as it did when, in another time, Nancy wrote solitary novels about broken-hearted damsels. The only significant difference was the much wider array of Christmas decorations, including a four and a half-foot tree, and the bare bookshelf. He picked up the bag he’d brought in with him, which began beeping as he started rummaging through it.

“Edward, you’re smart enough to know not to give a woman something electronic.”

“It’s my mobile, darling.” He said “darling” in that wonderful, sarcastic tone that he only used when he knew she’d hit him with a particularly clever wisecrack.

“The kind of arrangement where they remember what their first Christmas together was like and graciously agreed to supply us with something of the same. Don’t worry, they promised to call if something tremendously difficult should come up, such as a giant alien threatening to eat New York or something. But no less, if the alien’s only going to munch on New Jersey I say let him have the bloody thing.”

She laughed and he smiled -- they had a particularly good arrangement in that respect. He took out two packages, both about the same length but one considerably thicker. “This first one is actually a present for the both of us. Here.”

She took the package and opened it up to reveal a small white box. When she unfolded the top she pulled out a figurine of a little boy and a little girl out ice-skating together. They held a sign between them that read “Our 1st Christmas Together.”

“Oh, Edward, this is so sweet.”

“I thought it might be nice to establish a tradition or two. They had an entire line of these things at the store. I thought perhaps we can go out next year and purchase the next one together.”

“Next year?” Nancy said. “So... there’ll be a second Christmas?”

“I certainly hope so,” he said, and she kissed him for that, and he accepted. Then he handed her the second package, which was opened to reveal a gold charm bracelet.

“A lion and a lightning bolt,” she said. “Is this us?”

“Oh, you’re
so
smart,” he said.

“Well... let’s be honest, Nancy, you and I aren’t exactly in the safest line of work. I’m sure police officers and firemen often give their girls sort of... ‘in case’ gifts.”

“Most firemen don’t have their girls putting their lives on the line
with
them,” she said. “I’m not saying nothing
could
ever happen, but hasn’t it occurred to you that I have just as good a chance of... not making it as you do?”

It was, in fact, the first conversation either of them had about the chances of one of them dying in the three years they had been members of the LightCorps together. Of course, it was the first Christmas they had being a “them” instead of being two teammates, two comrades, but nothing more. Nancy didn’t quite remember what happened to change it, but she knew that the initial moves had been hers, and she had always been mildly nervous that he was only reacting to her affections rather than expressing his own. A silly paranoia, she knew, but one she couldn’t avoid.

“I know it’s possible, Edward,” she said, “but... the thought of losing you now, just when we’ve become something... really special.”

“I think we’re special too,” he said. “But the lunatics that are out there trying to kill us won’t care.”

“I know,” she said, taking the figurine and putting it on the bookshelf. “Do we have to have this conversation, Edward? It’s Christmas Eve.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to upset you. I’d jump off bridges to keep from upsetting you.”

“Well yeah, but
you
can fly.”

He laughed. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” That’s when something inside her bubbled to the surface and forced its way out of her mouth, something neither of them had said before, at least not since their attraction had been confessed. “Edward?”

“Yes?”

“ I love you.”

His face grew longer in a look of unmistakable surprise and she spun around, pretending that she was adjusting the figure. Stupid, stupid, how could she have said something so stupid? “God, I’m sorry--”

“Sorry? Dear God, don’t be sorry.” His voice was cracking, and when Nancy turned around she saw the most powerful man on Earth coming up behind her with a single tear rolling down his cheek.

“Well...” he placed a hand on her should and turned her until their eyes met. There were still a few tears in his. “No one else has ever said it
first
before.”

As he kissed her, the light roared up again and he was gone, but she could still feel him on her lips, twelve years later.

Nancy’s mind crunched as she absorbed the revelation that it was
now,
not
then,
that the man holding her by the hand was not Edward, that although the memory she had just tasted was wonderful it was only that, a memory. “What was...” she started to ask before she realized that was the wrong question. “Why did you give me
that
?”

“Because you needed to remember,” he said, and she noticed that his cheeks were a little rounder, that they had some of their pink back. And the twinkle in his eye, before only hinted at, was now quite evident.

She glanced around and saw he was right. The clocks were not moving, the refrigerator was not humming. She had become so lost in the memory of Edward that she’d tried to preserve it the only way she knew how -- by freezing time.

“It’s not quite enough,” he said, “not yet. Time has only slowed for us, in this room. Now reach out. That’s all you have to do. Just... reach... out.”

Nancy sent her power out and she felt the world’s spin change to match her own slowed-down time. First, here in Boston, cars stopped, drinks were frozen in mid-pour, parents hastily attempting to assemble toys were trapped trying to untangle a bicycle chain.

Elsewhere, birds stopped flying but did not fall. Hearts stopped beating but no one died. Everywhere there was a great freeze, a great Slowing, and the whole world, in very literal terms, grew still.

The strain was enormous. Nancy had never expended so much power before and she had no idea how long she would have to hold it.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Now,” he said, “my friends go to work.”