Lara Croft: Season's Greetings

by Sarah Crisman

"And I say he doesn't exist." Michael seemed adamant about this point, but the woman he was arguing with seemed just as firm about her stance.
"Yes, he does exist," Lara Croft said. "And I'll prove it to you as well."
"How do you expect to do that?" Michael asked. "Gonna just...leave out some milk and cookies and hope he takes the bait?"
"That would be one way."
"Well, what other ideas could you possibly have?" Michael asked her.
"A little experiment I proposed to him the other night," Lara smiled.
When she wasn't forthcoming with anything else, Michael pressed the issue. "And...?"
"I'm not buying you a Christmas present."
"You are joking, right?" This wasn't Christmas spirit...this was sadism!
"Not in the least," Lara said, turning on her heel the way only a woman of her British upper-class rearing could do effectively. "I've put out the chocolate chip cookies that we made this afternoon, left a note explaining that the carton of milk is in the fridge, since we didn't want it to spoil, and hung up the stockings. There's nothing else to be done."
Michael took her arm. "No, you are wrong. There is one thing we still have to do," he told her.
"Really?" Lara looked amused. "What did I forget?"
"Come over here," he said, pulling her over towards the window.
"Why?" Lara asked, resisting the tugging, but too hard.
"Because it is snowing," Michael replied softly. "And you wanted to watch it for a bit."
"Snow?" Lara glanced out the window curiously. "Snow?" she repeated. "Michael, are you sure you aren't seeing things?"
"Quite positive," Michael replied. "Come look for yourself!" He gestured to the window with a grand bow, as though he were introducing the Queen herself.
"Alright, but I don't see any-"
With a speed that was necessary to complete the maneuver, and possibly enough to ensure his survival for the next few seconds, Michael let her come closer, then dashed at her, planted an enormous kiss directly onto her lips, then ran down the hall cackling like a madman.
Lara stood, completely not getting what had just happened, when she stared at the ceiling. The tiny sprig of mistletoe that hung just above her reach seemed to mock her as she turned a dark, beet red. "Oooh! Michael, it's not wise to upset a lady on the night before Christmas!" She stormed after him down the hall.
"Lady?" Michael shouted from somewhere down the hall. "Good thing we don't have any of those in the house, or else there would be serious trouble."
"There already is serious trouble," Lara half-threatened as she stalked towards the bathroom. She slammed the door, more for effect than out of rage, and threw the bolt, locking it shut. Contemplating how wonderfully relaxing the bath would be once she had the water all warmed up and the bubbles in place, she began to peel the clothing off her frame piece by piece.
Sure enough, as she had expected, Michael came to the door and knocked slightly. She ignored it, instead bending over to turn on the water and place the drain cover in the proper location.
Another knock came, this one louder than the last. Lara ignored it as well as she splashed some of the Mr. Bubble bubblebath that Michael had given her as a gag gift one time under the faucet and swished the water merrily about. Within seconds, huge, churning mounds of foamy, sweet-smelling bubbles had enveloped the tub, and Lara lowered herself into the water, enjoying the gentle caresses of the warm liquid against her cold body.
"Lara...um...are you mad at me?"
She snickered softly, then attempted to put menace in her voice. "Go away," she ordered.
"Hey, Lara...it was a joke. You know that, right?"
"You lied to me." Though it sounded positively fierce through the door, Lara had an enormous grin on her face. "You told me it was snowing just to get me to stand under that mistletoe, and then you stole a kiss. I think I'll sleep in here tonight."
"Not with all that water in the tub, you won't! Don't you know you could drown by doing that?"
"Are you concerned for my safety, or do you just want a convenient excuse to come in and see me naked?" Lara asked.
"Well...now that you mention it, both, actually."
"Alright, that does it. I am sleeping in here tonight."
"No! No, don't do that...I was only kidding."
"Go to bed," Lara called to the door. "Maybe if you are lucky, Santa will bring me to you for Christmas."
"Lara, we've already been over this before...Santa Claus does not exist."
Lara tuned him out. "A big lump of coal," she murmured to herself. "Think about an enormous lump of coal..."

Michael...you are a dumbass. These were the words that drifted through his head at this very moment. Lara had kept very good on her promise to sleep in the bathroom that night, and so he lay there, scrunched under as many blankets as he could find, in an attempt to keep from freezing to death. If she had taught me how to work the heat, it would have been one thing, but this is just too much... He felt his eyelids getting heavier though, and put his head down on the pillow. Come morning, they would know who was right about this whole Santa business anyway.

The banging which was coming from the kitchen startled Michael awake, and he sat up in bed, quickly grabbing for the night table that had his glasses on it. A glance at the clock showed him that it was (technically) morning, and he groaned. What on earth was Lara doing in the kitchen at this hour? "Fine time for a late-night snack," he growled. Another thud, and the sound of some chewing.
Now that was curious. For all the time he had known her, he had never known Lara Croft to chew with her mouth open. But she obviously was, because he could hear her.
I'll catch her in the act, he thought to himself. That will shame her into feeling sorry for me, and then she'll turn the heat on. Deciding that this thought would be his solution to the problem, he found his cow slippers and slid into them before padding on down the hall. As he passed the bathroom door, he noticed it was still closed, but he didn't bother to try it. He knew it would be open, unless she locked it from the outside for some reason. Ignoring it now, he walked towards the kitchen where the sounds of chewing had gotten softer, and now there was the tramp of boots on the floor. Why was she all dressed up? Wouldn't house slippers make more sense than her boots? More determined now than ever that she was crazy, Michael continued on.
A look in the kitchen proved it was empty. So was the plate of cookies, save for a few crumbs here and there. But there was some commotion coming from the living room, where the Christmas tree was set up, and the stockings hung. Just like Mom and Dad used to do when I was little, Michael thought. They'd eat the cookies, drink the milk, then put all the presents under the tree and mark them from Santa to Mike. Cute, Lara, real cute, but you aren't gonna get me to buy that this is the real Santa Claus at work here. All the same, though, this seemed like an awful lot of trouble to go through for a fake. And Lara would be doing it quietly too. Whoever was in the living room seemed to be bumping into just about everything. Of course, Michael though to himself as he glanced into the living room, it would probably help if she had turned the lights on...
A devious grin crossed Michael's face. Hell, it worked once before. He knew exactly where the mistletoe was, and, by taking off his slippers, he could move silently across the room, avoiding all the furniture and things, and just wait for her to walk by. Then he would kiss her again, and laugh at her for all the trouble she went through to fake the entire scenario.
Walking on tiptoes, breathing so softly that not even a reindeer could have heard, Michael crept across the room and stopped, lurking under the mistletoe. It wouldn't be long now... Not long at all, and he would catch her in the act, and make so much fun of her that she would want to kill him.
The thumping boots came marching his way, and he braced himself, waiting for the opportunity. Then, suddenly, without warning, he lunged out with his hands, wrapped them around the body (which seemed a bit massive to be Lara's slight frame), and planted his lips firmly on the mouth (except the false beard and mustache she was wearing got slightly in the way...)
The person gasped as Michael pressed the assault, then suddenly every light in the room went on at once, and there stood Lara, dripping slightly, wrapped lightly in a bathrobe which barely covered her thighs, at the switch. "What possible reason on earth can you have for making all that banging and pounding out here, Michael??" Then she stopped as Michael's eyes widened.
This...is Lara. Or at least, it is supposed to be, only...Lara is standing over there in probably the skimpiest outfit I have ever seen her in...so...who is this? He twisted his gaze around to stare the figure in the face.
The man before him was by no means, Lara Croft. For one thing, he was rather overweight, but in a jolly sort of way. Secondly, there was all that hair on his face. And thirdly, he was decked out completely in a large red suit with black buttons and boots as dark and gleaming as the finest obsidian. "Oh...my...God..."
The man laughed a hearty laugh, then took a step back. "Oh no, my young child," he said, patting Michael on the head with his large red mittened hand. "I'm not your God, no, not by any means. Just an old man trying to spread good cheer this time of the season."
Lara's eyes widened as far as they could go, and then a bit farther. "You...you...you're really...I mean...that is...well..."
"Really real, my child?" the man addressed her. "Oh, yes. Oh, yes, quite real. Quite real indeed. Although your reaction surprised me, I...I thought you would remember seeing me when you were much littler...and not so grown up acting all the time."
"Santa Claus?" Michael finally dared to ask.
Santa grinned. "Yes, Michael. It's me. Always has been, and always would be, I should imagine. And though I appreciate your very warm welcome, you did it all wrong."
"Huh?" Michael asked.
"Well," Santa chuckled, "after all, the song's called, 'I saw Mommy kissing Santa Clause,' not, 'I saw Michael kissing Santa Clause...'"
Blushing as deeply as he ever had, he whirled around to Lara. "You did not see that. No matter what you think you saw, you did not see that." He walked over to her. "Um...sorry about before and all that."
Lara brushed him aside. "No worries, Michael," Lara said, pulling him towards the window. But she stopped under the sprig of red berries and green leaves that hung from the ceiling. She brought her mouth to his, and kissed him warmly and lovingly. "Merry Christmas. Now do you believe me?"
Michael stared at Santa Claus again, still not totally understanding what he was seeing.
Santa was rummaging through a massive sack that had been dumped to the floor, and was also referring to a list he held in one hand. "Let's see now," he muttered to himself, digging down deeper into the sack. "Let me see...um...a box of shotgun shells, a hunting bow and some arrows, and the other thing...the other thing..." He stood up, scratching his head. "Now...where did I put that, it...it was just here a moment ago..."
Lara looked over at the tree, then noticed the small package under it. "Santa?" she asked. "Do you mean this here?" She walked to the tree and lifted the small box out from under it.
"That?" Santa asked. "Oh! Oh, yes! Oh, yes, that indeed! Yes, that's what I wanted. And what you wanted too...er, that is...if my memory serves..." He allowed the thought to trail off, then looked over to the fireplace. "Well, I think that is all. I must be going, you know. So many stops, and so little time...and so many little children waiting up to catch me in the act as well...wonder how I do it myself, sometimes..." He walked across the floor, then peered up into the chimney, then looked back at Lara and Michael, who stood next to each other in the shining glory of the Christmas Tree and their pajamas. "Well...Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night! Ho ho ho!" And with that, he flew up the chimney and out of sight.
The clatter of hooves on the roof was unmistakable, and Lara and Michael hurried to the window like two anxious five year olds to look out and try to see the sleigh full of toys and eight tiny reindeer. But try as they might, the swirling snow obscured their vision, and soon the bells became distant, and then could no longer be heard.
Lara turned to Michael and put her arms around him. "Well...this will certainly be a Christmas to remember."
"Any more understatements you'd care to make tonight?" Michael asked her.
Lara shook her head.
"Then let's go back to bed," Michael recommended with a yawn. "I'm really tired now. Besides, gotta have energy to open all those presents tomorrow morning."
"I doubt Santa would have gone through all the trouble of wrapping a lump of coal," Lara grinned.
"Oh, hush. Come on, let's go to bed."
Lara's eyes alighted on the mysterious package under the tree as she turned. "Wait a moment." She walked over to it, crouched down, then picked it up and held it up, reading the tag. "'To: Lara. Much Love, Mother.' Much Love, Mother? What is this, a joke?" She turned to Michael. "I have to open this..."
He smiled. "Alright, go ahead."
She carefully slit the tape with her fingernail, then unfolded the paper and slid the small box out. Then she opened the box, and took a deep breath.
The most amazing, beautiful golden star resided inside, sparkling majestically in the light of the room. Lara removed it and examined it. And it was perfect. There was not a single surface that didn't glisten, gleam, and reflect light. And then, there was the note under it. Putting the star on the lid of the box, she pulled out the folded paper and read:

Dearest Lara,
I know that we never really got the chance to say goodbye to one another
and that you always regretted that. I blush every time you look up at the
sky and think about me, among the stars. So, I decided to ask the good
man, Santa Claus, if he might make the perfect star for you, so you could
remember me and feel me there with you on this Christmas morning.

Love from closer than you would guess,
Mother

Lara looked from the note to the star and back to the note again, reading and rereading every word, memorizing the pattern of every syllable. And then, a single tear ran down her cheek. And in the star, the tear was magnified, and it sparkled with a life almost of its own, turning one of the signs of sorrow into a monument of pure joy.
And with that joy came the child-like sense of wonder that was really what Christmas was all about. That desire to love others, and help them. The desire to be happy, and care for all the world, even those people you really disliked. And the time to set aside petty differences in favor of the overwhelming similarities of persons and places.
Hands trembling, Lara Croft stood on her tiptoes and placed the star atop the tree, where it caught and reflected the most light, seeming to cause the room to exude a brilliance and glory it had never seen before. And, standing there in the living room of her mansion, Lara and Michael both finally realized, again, as they did each year, that Christmas was about love and caring for others with selfless displays of affection and joy.
For another long minute, arms around each other's waists, Lara and Michael gazed at the tree, with the beautiful star on top. Then, quietly, calmly, they embraced again.
"Merry Christmas, Michael."
"Merry Christmas, Lara."
And that was all that needed to be said.