[sup][h1][center][img]Banner[/img][/center][b][center][color=black] M A R T I A N M A N H U N T E R[/color] [color=green]M A R T I A N M A N H U N T E R[/color][/center] [/b][/h1][/sup] [color=darkorange]JOHN JONES' APARTMENT[/color] [color=green]Manhattan, New York City[/color] [color=darkred]Christmas Day[/color] In J'onn's defense, he did not get much sleep that night and it was a busy morning. He'd needed to rush to work to be on time for his shift, there were always new crimes even on Christmas, and the headache of the Toyman had to be dealt with. Fortunately (or unfortunately as a darker part of his mind bitterly thought), Toyman's mind hadn't been permanently shattered by the Manhunter's actions the night before. Some of J'onn's conscience could be eased on that score. However, it still took more time than it seemed like it should have for the arrest to be fully legitimized and for the man to be shipped off to the appropriate prison so he could stand trial at the appropriate court. It was no wonder then that it was only later that evening, after he'd finally trudged [s]home[/s] into his apartment and flopped down into his couch, that he noticed the package on his coffee table. Frowning, he tilted his head and peered more closely. It didn't feel like a bomb. Yet he knew the postman didn't work today...Perhaps Mrs. Higgins dropped it in. The wrapping paper seemed like the sort of thing she'd use for a Christmas gift. Still, one couldn't be too careful. Who knew how long it'd been here...He gingerly picked up the parcel and double checked the inside. Still no sign of a bomb, or an other sort of death-dealing mechanism. Just, another box? Oh there was a note on top. He really must have been tired if he didn't see this before. He then opened it up, finding a very elegant cursive hand. Yet, he still still parse out the message. [i]For J'onn, a long-overdue present. This isn't just a thank you for helping take down that rascal, though it is also that. This is also a belated welcome home Christmas present, one I should have gotten you that first Christmas but it took a while to figure out what would be the right gift for you and then to have it made. I know you were willing to let it slide because you assumed you would be getting coal, but that would [u]never[/u] have been my gift for you. Very little of the past you fear was of your own will, but when you had a choice, you would seek to do what good you could. And since you've come here, you've pushed yourself far in seeking to do good. Thank you for that, especially for all you've done for the little children you've come across. This then is a small token of my appreciation that I hope can bring some comfort to you. As an old man, I know more than most that memories are best comfort one can have as time goes by. When you're ready, the priest at St. Patrick's did mean it when he said he'd like to talk with you. No matter your past, you can always find your way home. Merry Christmas, St. Nicholas[/i] J'onn could only stare in stunned amazement for several moments. A gift...Santa Claus had really gotten him a [i]gift?![/i] Slowly and methodically, he turned to the package itself and started unwrapping, careful to not rip the paper nor harm the box as he peeled off the tape. Within the box, nestled safe and secure was a copper music box, with the two moons engraved on the lid and Martians dancing together around the sides, all carved with a skillful hand. [color=green]"It...It can't be..."[/color] It had been destroyed, lost in the fire! Hand trembling now, he opened it up and found himself hearing the tune to a nearly long forgotten melody once more as the couple within spun around and around, miniature replicas of he and M'yri'ah in their wedding clothes. His mother had worked relentlessly with the toymaker to make sure every detail was perfect. Even though it'd been for his son's first birthday, his mother had wanted it to become a family heirloom, something for his son to pass on to his son and on through the generations. And it had been his son's favorite gift, and one enjoyed much by the household especially when it came time to updating... He then felt underneath the box and tapped into the trigger, much newer and less worn. So this was a replica. But if Santa had managed to replicate the box... There they were! The couple let out a holographic projection from between them, revealing a slideshow of images from J'onn's own birth to his first days of school to the various family gatherings, graduating from secondary education, getting into college, winning the trophy as captain of the college team. Then his wedding, the birth of M'gann, the birth of J'onat'onn, the various firsts of both children, his acceptance into the psychology program only half a year before...And so many others in between, many just humorous every day things. He telepathically tapped into one of those. [i]Dad, would you please control your pest of a son?! I'm trying to learn my lines! What did I do? You keep poking me! I'm not poking you. See, I'm all the way on the other side of the room. You're tele-poking me! No I'm not! Yes you are! No I'm not! Yes you are! Children-[/i] And there she was...M'yri'ah, that soft smile hidden under a stern frown, her hair frizzled from cleaning around the house, some slight wrinkles to her forehead. But still as beautiful as the day he'd married her. J'onn looked on the still image of her then wept and hugged her and the box closer. He'd, he'd thought he lost it all... [color=green]"Santa...Thank, thank you."[/color] Then he allowed himself the moment to grieve, slipping into his Martian form and letting the box play on. [The song of the music box is something like this, though of course, in a Martian form. [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yLTf-R9gj_0]Once Upon a December-Russian Version[/url]