“Teacher says, every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings....”

The old movie is hackneyed, cheesy, and an absolute Christmas classic. Dad had it on VHS tape, DVD, and now Blu-Ray, complete with the promotional ornament for the Christmas tree.

So far, despite Mom and Dad trying their best, it's been the worst Christmas of my life. Still, I know there's nothing that I can do about it, and crying isn't going to change anything, so I lay on my back on the couch, just watching.

Mom however understands, and reaches forward, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and hitting the stop button. “I think that's enough Jimmy Stewart for one night,” she says, ejecting the disc. “I know it's early, but how about some chocolate cheesecake?”

That's Mom, always making things better with food. Some Moms clean to get rid of stress, some shop, some pour themselves into a career. Katherine Carlyle has always coped with stress by putting together some seriously awesome food.

“Mom, if I eat any more, I'm going to burst,” I wave off. “The twins are pushing on my stomach so much, one bite and I'm full. So lots of little, tiny bites is probably best for me. You go ahead though.”

Mom gives me a questioning look, then sits back down. “No, I think I don't need any myself. Don't want to get fat, you know.”

I smile and look Mom over. She's hardly fat. Perhaps a little bigger than she was when she was in her thirties, but she's hardly fat. “Mom, you're still pretty hot. I know Dad still thinks you're a foxy lady. Go ahead, have some if you want it.”

Mom thinks, then shakes her head. “No, I don't need it. I know it's just the nerves making me want to eat. It's hard knowing that my baby isn't happy, but also knowing there's nothing I can do about it.”

“I know, Mom. But you've been great this whole vacation. Really. Christmas Day was as good as it could have been, and I'll be honest, I don't think my laundry's smelled so fresh and clean since high school. That's a long time between dryer sheets, you know.”

“You really should look at starting to use them. I know that the rules with your ACUs are that you can't use starch, but there can't be anything wrong with using a little fabric softener, is there? Even for your dainties and your PT clothes?”

“Nah, I got used to Army laundry I guess.”

Mom groans, shaking her head. “You're just like your brothers. I never could get them to learn how to do laundry either. At least you learned some basics about real life before the Academy got its hooks into you.”

I struggle, but sit up, looking at Mom. “Mom, I never really asked over the past four years, but were you okay with me going to USMA? Me being in the Army?”

Mom gives me that sort of head-shrug that means 'it doesn't matter,' and then half smiles. “When Gavin had his accident, I thought to myself, 'okay, that'll get that madness out of the family.' Julius wasn't interested at that age, and you were still in your Mommy's girl stage. Then Julius... well, that hurt. When you said you were applying to transfer, I'd come to the realization that I couldn't control you, and that you have to be you. Yes, I've worried about it, especially knowing what the Academy is like, and knowing it'd be doubly hard for you. But now, seeing the woman you've become, I couldn't be prouder. You're my daughter, Ashley, and I love you. And I know, you're going to be a great mother.”

Her words make my throat grow tight, and I smile. “Mom, you gave me a childhood that, if I am a good mother, is the whole reason why I can be. But to hear you say that... thank you.”

Mom's about to say something when Dad comes in the room, beaming, tears streaming down his face. “Ashley... it's Korea.”

“What is it Dad?” I ask, nervous but at the same time hopeful. If Dad wasn't smiling, I'd be worried, but he's smiling. “Simon?”

Dad nods. “He was found a quarter mile inside the DMZ by a patrol of South Koreans, who were responding to activity on the North's side. He's unconscious, he was bitten by a snake and is getting treatment. They said he'll be in the hospital for a few days, but the people I talked to wanted to know when you might want to talk to him. I told them ASAP, would you like to confirm that?”

I'm trying to answer, but I'm crying too hard, but I wave for the phone anyway. Dad hands it over, and I clear my throat, trying hard to speak. “Hello?”

“Lieutenant Ashley Carlyle?” the voice on the other end asks, gravely and deep, a total military voice. “This is Colonel Keith Hunt.”

“Yes sir, I'm Ashley Carlyle. My father said something about Simon? Is he...?”

Colonel Hunt's smile is audible even through the phone line, and he laughs. “He's fine, Lieutenant. I just got done talking with his doctors at the hospital in Seoul. They're keeping him sedated for another twenty four hours to let the anti-venom work and to let his body rest and recover. He's lost a lot of weight, and he's got a long recovery ahead of him.”

“In Korea, sir?” I ask, the first thought in my mind is that I need Simon home. “Sir, if it's possible, I'm nearly eight months pregnant with Simon's twins.”

Colonel Hunt hums in appreciation. “Well, normally we wouldn't do a recovery here in Korea, it's months long. It's normally done in Japan, but I think in this case... I'll get you an answer soon, but I'm quite sure that we can have him rehabilitate inside the United States. In the mean time, we can set up a video call. Would you like to do it at home or though the Fort Lee MWR station?”

“I'm on the last two days of Christmas leave, sir, think we can do it through my home?”

“I'm sure we can get something set up. I'll call you tomorrow, Lieutenant. I just wanted you to know before it hits the news wire. Happy New Year, Lieutenant.”

“Happy New Year, sir. And sir?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. It's a week late, but you just gave me the best Christmas gift ever.”

* * *

The video flares at first, and I realize the camera is adjusting to the lighting in the hospital room where Simon is. He's in a robe, but even with it closed all the way to his throat, I can see that he's lost an enormous amount of weight. He stares at the screen for a moment, then blinks, a smile spreading across his face when he sees me, and we just stare at each other for a moment, taking it in. Finally, he clears his throat and speaks. “Ashley.”

It's just my name, but it sets off a crying jag, and we're both weeping, no shame at all in it as we babble and blubber. I don't even know what I'm saying, except that I love him and that he loves me. Finally, after a few minutes, we both seem to calm down, but I'm leaking from my eyes, I can't seem to stop the tears from flowing.

“It's good to see you,” I finally get out intelligibly, and Simon nods.

“It's good to see you too. I'm still kinda adjusting, I almost think this is like some sort of grand trick or something. But... it's you.”

“It is me,” I say, adjusting the camera to show my belly. “Say hello to your son and daughter.”

“You mean it?” Simon asks when I raise the camera again, his face full of wonder. “A boy and a girl? I dreamed that we had a boy and a girl.”

I nod, and I'm smiling and crying at the same time. “Me too. Hurry up getting out of that hospital, and you can still get here to help me name them. I didn't want to do that without your help.”

Simon nods, then grows somber. “You saved me, Ashley. Your letter... I was so close to breaking. There was a Major Song, she was trying to get me to be her slave... to say things... to betray you. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry....”

I shake my head, and touch his face on the screen. “Simon, it doesn't matter. You were under the influence of things that nobody can ever expect you to handle. You survived for nearly six months in there.”

“Still... I nearly betrayed you,” Simon whispers, his eyes haunted. “You gave me the strength, and I nearly betrayed you. How could you ever forgive that?”

I shake my head again, the tears flowing harder. “Simon, you didn't betray me. Ever. Even in the hard moments, you never, ever betrayed me. I love you, and there's nothing to forgive. I want you to focus on a few things for me, please?”

“What?” he asks, looking up, his eyes clearer, but still haunted. Just what kind of hell did he go through?

“Get stronger. Get out of that hospital, and come home. I already talked to someone named Colonel Hunt yesterday, he said that they'll try to have you do your rehab and recovery back here. If that's what you want.”

I know I can't pressure him, Dad talked with me about it before the video call, that right now nobody can order Simon to do anything. He's just come from a hell where orders were given by the enemy, and demanding things now would make him associate me with that pain. I just need him so badly, and seeing him like this, it hurts. I want to hold him, to let him know that he's loved, and needed.

Simon though smiles and wipes at his eyes, nodding. “Gimmie five days. I already talked with the docs, they said I'll be able to fly in five days. Get this, I'm some sort of hero they say, and they said when I'm ready, they'll fly me first class back to the States.”

“You are a hero,” I tell him, smiling. “I don't know about the rest of the country, but you're my hero. You were taken away, and you came back. More than anything else... you came back.”

We talk for another fifteen minutes, mostly trivialities, Dad told me that for a long time, conversations like this will dominate Simon's mind. He's not quite ready to confront the horrors of what he went through, and when he gets back he's going to have to talk with a lot of people. That's enough stress for him, and he's going to need a way to just reconnect and to relax. Trivial stuff is going to be the way he does that for a lot of people.

“Hey, today the docs said I might be allowed to have some French fries,” Simon says, grinning. “From McDonald's even.”

“Sounds good, babe. As you can tell, I've been indulging too. But you're going to be proud of me, you've got the healthiest set of babies in the world inside my tummy,” I reply, rubbing. “I promise you that.”

“Five days,” Simon says, smiling. “I promise you, five days. Maybe six if we count the flight time and all that crap.”

After we hang up, I can't hold back my emotions any more, and I break down, sobbing in happiness and horror at what Simon's been through, and relief that he's back. “Daddy's coming home,” I whisper to my twins, rubbing my stomach. “Pretty soon, Daddy's coming home. You just hang in there a little while longer.”