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Last Year's Christmas

Guest Nicom

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Last Year’s Christmas

Type of story: One shot

Rating: G

Main Characters: Jack, Martha, Sam

Genre: Romance/Fluff/Angst?

Warnings: No warnings!

Is Story being proof read: No

Summary: A comparison between Jack’s first Christmas as Martha’s husband, and his first Christmas as Sam’s husband. (We’re pretending that JM actually had a happy married Christmas together.)

Okay, so JM never shared a happily married Christmas together. But what if they did? Well, I think it’d go like this… no wait, I don’t. The writers never write happy JM stuff that we want (well they haven’t for years) so it probably wouldn’t go like this. In fact, Jack’s arm would probably be shot off and Martha would lose an eye if it were their first Christmas together as a married couple. And they’d cheat on each other. And Jack would get drunk and go to Las Vegas and get married to a man, and then get done for bigamy. And Martha would scream at him, while taking up a new hobby of pole dancing. (No wait, she’s already done that!) And this would all happen in the space of 2 or 3 weeks. :)

ANYWAY, basically, IF I was a writer, and JM were happily married last Christmas then they’d spend it like this. Then a year later in the second part, Jack and Sam are married and sharing their first Christmas (This Christmas).

Sorry, I haven't had it proofed. It's not the best writing... but I was bored, and feeling rather Christmassy. Please reply. :D

Merry Christmas!


Martha was usually a patient and considerate person; especially when it came to Jack and his sleep. When Martha was scheduled to wake up earlier than Jack on his days off, she’d try extra hard to be as quiet as she could so he could have a lie in. She’d tiptoe around the room, gathering all of her items in one scoop and carrying out all her morning tasks in a different room. She’d try her best to avoid going in their bedroom at all cost, in case of accidentally waking him. She’d even go a morning without music or TV to ensure he wasn’t disturbed. Jack had told her on numerous occasions that he wouldn’t mind if she accidentally or purposely woke him up in the mornings, because she was his wife and the idea of having her their every morning was one of the many reasons why he’d married her, and a daily reminder wouldn’t hurt. However, when he said this both he and Martha knew there were some unwritten rules to this agreement – one of those was not to wake him up at obscenely early times if she could help it. And that was definitely why today, as Martha was dying to deliberately wake him up at 5am, she knew not to. So instead, Martha was accidentally-on-purpose trying to wake him up; and failing.

She had been moving around the bed heavily to produce wave movements to knock him out of his deep sleep, and had a series of increasingly loud coughs and fake sneezes near to his ear. However, although he had his back facing her, she could still see his eyes were closed and her attempts were in vain. He still lay silently, emitting a hush of a breath every few seconds.

It was when she was sat with her back against the headboard, her arms crossed over her chest as she silently cursed him that she saw the truth. In the corner of her eye she noticed his smirk. His lips were squirming in an effort conceal his playful grin which was so clearly showing that he was finding something really funny, and more importantly – that he was awake. But by the time he managed to control his lips it was too late. She had caught him out.

“Jack!” Martha exclaimed, outraged. “I knew you were awake!” She knelt beside him, sharply pushing at his shoulder.

Jack smirked again, rolling on his back. He opened an eye. “It’s kind of hard not to be awake with you playing bouncy castles and choking beside me;” His eyes cracked open. The early morning summer’s light was pouring in from the open window, spreading around the room and burning his eyes.

“What do you want, Martha?” He asked groggily.

Martha laughed out of frustration, “You know what I want, Holden!” She said angrily, rocking him by the shoulders. “It’s Christmas! I want you to get up so I can open my presents!” She cried out.

Jack groaned, “At 5 o’clock, MacKenzie?” He mocked her use of his surname, “You can go and open them yourself. I’ll join you in a bit.” He said, his eyes slowly shutting again.

Martha shook her head vigorously. “It’s not the same and you know it! You have to be there too, so we can open them together! Don’t you want to see my face when I open what you’ve got me?” She asked.

Jack wiggled his head in the pillow as he looked up to her, “Ooh, that’s a bit of an assumption isn’t it Martha? Who say’s I’ve gotten you anything?” He asked her teasingly.

“The present under the tree that is labelled ‘To Martha, Merry Christmas, Love Jack.’” She said smugly.

Jack smiled, putting his arm behind his head.

“Come on Jack!” Martha whined and nudged him again. She peeled off the covers in an effort to get him up, but as she did so he swatted her hand away and snatched the blankets from her grasp. He pulled them up to his chin quickly to hide his childish grin. And although Martha too had a wide smile shining from her lips, she wasn’t finding it quite as funny.

“Jack!” She scorned.

Jack stuck out his bottom lip as he faked a frown. “Don’t you want to just stay here for a bit?” He asked reaching up to grab her wrist. She fought off a laugh as he tugged her down with yet another of his cheeky grins, and although she competed against him, her strength was in no comparison to his and she soon found herself wrapped in his arms.

“Jack! Get off!” She struggled underneath his heavy arms. His body was pressing beside her, and he weaved his legs in between hers to pin her down. Her back was against his chest, and his cheek was against hers. He nuzzled his unshaven jaw-line against the curve of her neck. She giggled.

“Hey! That scratches!” She moaned, trying to be serious.

Jack’s hands were around her waist, lacing their fingers into a knot in front of her stomach. This position was both affectionate and controlling – from here, she was anchored to him and there was no way he was letting her get up for at least another 10 minutes. No matter how much she moaned.

“Don’t you want to see what Santa has left you?” Martha asked.

Jack tilted his head towards her ear. “Santa’s not real, Martha.” He whispered throatily as he began to sink into sleep again.

Martha gasped, “A fairy dies whenever someone says they don’t believe in Santa!”

A crease appeared between Jack’s eyebrows. “I thought a fairy dies whenever someone says they don’t believe in magic?” He questioned.

“Does it matter?” Martha sighed. “The point is, it’s Christmas and we’re in bed!”

Jack shrugged, “So what? Christmas will still be here in an hour or so. Jesus, Martha, what are you – five?”

Martha smirked, “You better hope not.”

Jack chuckled into her neck, his fingers playing with hers. “Mmmm… that would be a nasty surprise.” He said gruffly.

“Come on then, Jack, get up!” She said, wiggling her shoulders in an effort to break out of his hold. “I know you want to.”

“Then you’re greatly mistaken.”

“Jack…!” She begged.

With a loud groan, he let go of her, rolling onto his back and kicking the covers off of him. “Fine!” He gave in, standing out of their bed. “But you’re making me coffee.” He ordered, leaving the room in a pretend sulk.

Martha smiled, scurrying off the bed and following him into the lounge with a smile. As she did so, she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and clung onto him. His sulking persona broke as he raised a hand and put it over her arm, turning around as they walked to kiss her. They waddled through to the living room entangled in each other, laughing, smiling and kissing as they celebrated their first Christmas as a married couple.


Once Martha had sat Jack down with a cup of coffee in the festively decorated living room, they began to unwrap their presents from their friends and family in the bay with the sound of Christmas music singing in the background.

The room was decorated simply, with lines of fairy lights hung on and around various objects, and tinsel stuck on the kitchen bench. Of course the main attraction in any home at Christmas time is the Christmas tree; and Jack and Martha’s home was no exception. It sat tall and proud in the corner of the room, occupying the TV’s rightful place. The TV had now been discarded to the left, in a not so convenient place. Jack had jokingly moaned that now the room was all off and that CSI viewing wouldn’t feel the same; but Martha had ignored him. They both knew that Jack was just as excited and happy with the Christmas tree as she was. It was a real tree, not a fake plastic one with cheap looking branches. They didn’t care that it wasn’t exact or in proportion – to be honest it was a bit on the lanky side for a tree, but they thought it was more fitting. Anyway, this tree was pure and pine and made the room feel fresh on this hot summer’s morning. Twinkling lights and sparkling tinsel covered the luscious shade of green, and artistically placed baubles were dotted from high to low. The Christmas tree didn’t really have a colour theme as such… there had been no logical thinking behind the design at all. This was Martha and Jack’s first Christmas together so they were as of yet to form a collection of Christmas decorations. They’d borrowed items from Tony and Beth, and used Martha’s old decorations too. They’d bought a few of course, but Martha had found she liked the look of the random Christmas items coming together. She thought it gave a more personal touch. And truth be told Jack did too, though he didn’t admit it in fear of sounding like a girl. Unbeknownst to Martha he would often take a quiet moment to indulge in the warm and welcoming decorations set up in the living room, and would cast his mind back to that Saturday evening in early December when he and Martha blasted the Christmas tunes and put them up together.

After 15 minutes Martha had finished unwrapping all of her presents. Or perhaps ‘attacking all of her presents’ would be better suited. Jack on the other hand had paced himself, opening one every now and then. In fact, he hadn’t opened any in the last 10 minutes, so it was not surprising that he still had quite a few left.

She looked up from the bath set she was currently studying to see Jack sat on the sofa, a mug in one hand and a smile on his face.

“What are you doing? You’ve got loads left!” She said with a hint of envy.

Jack smiled, “I’m just watching.” He said.

Martha felt a blush creep up onto her cheeks, “Watching what?”

“You. I never knew how much you loved Christmas. I mean, I knew you were excited about it – I’d have to be blind, deaf and unconscious to not have noticed these past few weeks – but I didn’t know you were this excited. You’re such a nerd.”

Martha held her mouth open in pretend-offence as she laughed loudly. “Oh, is that so? Well, you’re boring.” She poked her tongue out.

“Ouch.” Jack smiled sarcastically, and then continued with his thoughts. “I guess I don’t know everything about you after all.” He said.

Martha smiled, putting her bath set down and standing up. She held his gaze as she walked toward the sofa and sat beside him.

“But you will, by the end of this lengthy prison sentence called marriage.”

“Oh, thanks Martha. We’re just in our first year of marriage and you’re calling it a prison sentence. That’s real nice.” He teased.

She smiled, leaning forward and kissing him gently. His hands covered her cheeks as he deepened the kiss, and he felt her fingertips curl around the back of his neck. A few moments later, he pulled away.

“Oh, I nearly forgot…” He said, signalling with his finger for her to bear with him. He let go of her as he stood up and lightly jogged through to their room. He returned to the bewildered Martha a few beats later with a hand behind his back. When he was sat beside her again, he pulled it out from behind, revealing yet another present.

“Merry Christmas,” He smiled.

Martha grinned, “I’ve already opened yours and I loved it! You didn’t need to get me anything else.” She said.

“Well… I wanted to. I can’t have just bought you a bag for Christmas. I am your husband.”

Martha smiled at the sound of the latter part of his sentence, and took the slim box-shaped present from him and begun to unwrap it with great care. She opened the jeweller’s box slowly, gasping with delight when she saw what lay inside.

“Oh, Jack, it’s beautiful!” She exclaimed happily, resting the box on her knee as she took out the bracelet and slipped it onto her wrist.

He smiled, “Are you sure, because I can take it back if you want? I still have the receipt... you can pick something else.” He offered.

Martha shook her head vigorously. “No, definitely not. It’s perfect.” She smiled up to him, before gazing back down and watching as the silver bracelet sparkled in the Christmas light.

“Thank you. I love it.” She leaned against him on the sofa, her tiredness taking over her again. They both sunk back, and Martha rested in his arms.

Jack smiled as he kissed the top of her head. “I love you.” He said, wrapping his arms around his sleepy wife.

She snuggled into his chest. “You too.”

And that’s where they stayed for the majority of the day- in each other’s arms in their festive little world of pyjama’s and wrapping paper. Just as they vowed they would the next year, the year after and the many, many years after that.


But sometimes things don’t go as planned.

He looked up again, reading the yellow glow for what must be the tenth time this morning. He rolled over and looked as she slept silently beside him.

“Sam,” He whispered, nudging her gently.

Her eyes fluttered open, darting about the room before resting on Jack.

“What’s wrong?” She asked hoarsely.

“Nothing. It’s just… it’s 7 o’clock and Rory’s not up yet. Should I wake him?” Jack asked.

Sam laughed, “No, are you mad? He’s just growing out of that ‘waking up at the crack of dawn’ stage and you want to bring it back?! No thanks Jack. I’ll stick with my lie in.” She smiled, sinking back into her pillow.

“He’s growing out of it? He’s only eleven!” Jack exclaimed, sounding appalled.

Sam shrugged, her eyes still shut as she nestled against the pillow. “He’s mature for his age, Jack.” She mumbled.

“Yea but 20-year-olds still wake up at 5 in the morning on Christmas day!” He argued, thinking of no one in particular…

Sam sighed, anger etching in her voice. “What do you want me to say, Jack?” She asked.

Jack felt the heat of stupidity inflame his cheeks. “Nothing… I…” He sighed inwardly; disappointment would be obvious in his features if it weren’t for the black-out curtains Sam had put in place. The room was still dark, and no one would have guessed it was morning or summer. There was no sunlight, and there was a fierce chill that filled the room from the new air-conditioning unit in the corner.

He sat up in his place, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m going to get dressed.” He said, standing up and walking toward their wardrobe. As he did so, he heard the ruffling of bed covers from behind. For a second or two he actually thought Sam was going to join him – but no, the noise was a result of her spreading out in the bed in his absence.

He left the room alone.


After he left, he quickly checked up on Rory. Part of him had actually hoped that the noise of the door creaking open would awake him; but it hadn’t. For the best, probably; Jack would only feel guilty for waking him, and Sam wouldn’t be happy either. So he left silently as to not wake Rory, and decided to wait in the living room.

As he waited he got dressed, had a cup of tea and some breakfast. At 7.30am, he was all out of things to do, and as a result was silently sat on the sofa, taking in the room around him.

The tree had been placed to the left of the TV, as to not move the TV from its perfect home in the corner. The tree was fake and plastic, and its dimensions were perfectly proportional. It was neatly lined in lights and silvery baubles, and there was no tinsel on the tree or in the room, nor was there lights dangled from wall to wall either. When Jack had suggested it, Sam had brushed him off, subtly covering the Christmas decoration box with a blanket while claiming there was no tinsel or spare lights to do it with. It was later on, when Jack was putting the trash outside, that he noticed the boxes of his and Martha’s old Christmas decorations discarded by the side entrance, when he discovered the 3 spare sets of lights and 5 streams of colourful tinsel.

But he had to hand it to Sam – she was good at decorating Christmas trees. It looked just like the type of tree that would be displayed in the windows of high street shops – perfectly symmetrical and stylishly colour themed. She’d bought 4 matching sets of silver baubles from the same shop as she bought the tree, and decorated it purely by herself to ensure there were no screw ups. Everything was very… perfect.

He thought this as he sat alone on the sofa in his jeans and uncomfortable new shirt, an empty cup in one hand and a heap full of neat and unopened presents stacked in front of him. He closed his eyes and sunk back and knew that he’d be here next year, the year after and many years after that.

As he snuggled back into the sofa and increased in comfort, he pretended he wasn’t dreaming of last Christmas when everything was so perfectly imperfect, when he had every Christmas to look forward to, with the pine smelling tree, the untidily festive walls and the exhausting early mornings.

And he pretended he hadn’t let it all go.


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