Chapter 15
Alexia
The pediatric wing falls silent as night descends, tiny patients tucked into their beds. For the first time since I started working at this hospital, I've welcomed the New Year from the rooftop. What was meant to be a romantic date with Selene transformed into an impromptu gathering — our intimate moment crashed by the folks who'd come to help with the elf situation. Even the staff from the New Year's party two blocks away ditched Times Square to join us up here.
“Ready to head home, Doctor?” Selene's lips brush against my forehead as we rest in one of the on-call room beds.
“Perfect night,” I yawn, stretching my arms with a smile playing on my lips.
“It really was. Who knew celebrating New Year's at a hospital could be this romantic?”
The snow-covered streets feel different tonight as we walk home. The city sleeps, and holding Selene's hand feels like pure magic.
“Stop!” My heart leaps into my throat as I turn the key in the lock.
“What's wrong?”
“There's a light on in the living room. Someone's been inside.”
“Don't be silly, you probably left it on by accident.”
“No way,” I protest. “We should call the police.”
Selene's cheeks flush pink as she rolls her eyes. “Shit, I'm such an idiot. It was supposed to be a surprise,” she mutters.
“A surprise?”
“Just go in,” she nudges me with her chin toward the doorway.
And there it is — a small plastic Christmas tree, decorated in obvious haste, with poorly wrapped presents scattered beneath it.
“Did you do this?” I ask, amazed.
“I might have conspired with Miguel to get your spare key,” she admits with a shrug. “Don't worry, it was for a good cause. I hated seeing your place without any decorations.”
“You broke into my apartment to put up Christmas decorations?”
I should be angry, or at least annoyed, but instead, I bite back a laugh.
“Well, 'decorations' might be stretching it. Just a tiny tree, some garland, and presents. And technically, I didn't break in since I used your spare key — without permission, sure, but then it wouldn't have been a surprise.”
“I can't decide whether to kill you or kiss you,” I tease, pressing my hand to my forehead.
“I vote for the second option.”
“Jesus, you scared me half to death,” I complain, my hand over my racing heart. “I was convinced we had burglars.”
“Let me make you coffee to make up for it,” she winks, guiding me to the couch. “Later, we can open presents and watch a Christmas movie. No schedules, no medical protocols, no checking your phone every thirty seconds. Just us. Relaxed, okay?”
While she bustles in the kitchen, I study the presents under the tree with amusement. Gift-wrapping clearly isn't her strong suit — she's made quite a mess of it. One package, obviously a book, has paper too short on one side, the title visible along the spine. Another smaller gift is wrapped in cartoon paper, all crinkled and secured with blue electrical tape.
“Good thing I'm not dating you for your gift-wrapping skills,” I call out as she returns with two steaming mugs.
“I know January first isn't the usual gift-giving day, but it seemed silly to wait until next Christmas,” she says apologetically. “Just… don't expect anything fancy or expensive.”
“One's definitely a book — I can see the title,” I point out.
“Hope you like that author at least.”
“I do. I'll start with the small one and pretend to be surprised about the book,” I suggest.
But when I open the small package, there's no need to fake surprise — my jaw drops like something out of a cartoon. Inside is a pen. Not just any pen, but one identical to my lucky pen, the one Laura gave me before she died.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, turning it between my fingers. “It's the same model, except this one's…”
“New,” Selene finishes my sentence. “I even tested it to make sure it works.”
I'm speechless, just staring at the pen, rotating it over and over in my hands.
“Please say something,” Selene sighs. “You don't like it?”
“I love it,” I confess. “How did you find it? They stopped making this model twenty years ago.”
“Let's just say I have connections,” she smiles. “A friend owns some antique shops, and I sneaked a photo of your lucky pen one day. Wasn't easy to track down, but there it is. Now you can write prescriptions with it like you wanted and keep the original safe in your pocket. It's not about the object itself, or what it's worth — it's about what it represents.”
Wrapped around the old pen is a handwritten note: “To help you keep saving lives, while remembering it's okay to hold onto a little magic.”
“I love it,” I whisper.
“Arya told me once that medicine is equal parts science and magic, so that's where the message came from. It's okay to keep your little quirks,” she adds, leaning in to kiss me.
I melt into her embrace, resting my head on her shoulder. The new pen slides into my pocket next to the old one. Present and past. Loss and hope.
“Merry Christmas, Doctor Winters,” she murmurs into my hair.
“I have something for you too,” I admit, surprised by the emotion in my voice.
“Really? Damn, I thought I was being super original with the January first presents and… you had the same idea?”
“I wish I could say yes, but now I understand why Arya was so insistent about preparing something for today. She's such a little shit, as she'd say herself.”
I pull the envelope from my purse and hand it to her. My hands shake slightly, something that never happens. Selene looks at me curiously, her blue eyes sparkling with a childlike innocence that makes my knees weak.
“What is it?” she asks excitedly, turning the envelope in her hands without opening it, almost like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Open it and find out.”
Selene pulls out the contents: half a dozen letters, some handwritten, others typed. I watch as she unfolds the first one and holds her breath before reading aloud.
“Lieutenant Callahan: You might not remember me, but I'll never forget you. I'm James Cooper, from the 247th platoon. It's been almost eight years since that night in Kandahar, but the echo of your helicopter approaching remains the most beautiful sound I've ever heard…”
Her eyes fill with tears. She looks at me, unable to continue.
“How…?” she asks with a long sigh.
“Keep reading,” I whisper, moving closer to rub her lower back.
“…No one else dared to fly that night. The sandstorm was brutal, and the gunfire wouldn't stop. We had three critical casualties and communications were barely working. But you came. Again and again, we heard your Black Hawk roaring above us, like a guardian angel refusing to abandon us. Because of you, I got to meet my daughter Emma. Every time I look at her, I remember I'm alive because one crazy pilot dared to challenge hell itself to save us.”
Selene sobs, wiping away a tear with her palm before moving to the next letter.
“Some say the darkest moments bring out the best in people. You brought out the best in all of us. Not just through your extraordinary piloting skills, but through your humanity. For staying after rescues, holding the wounded's hands while telling them stories about New York. For making us doctors laugh when the weight of war became too much. For reminding us that kindness existed even in the worst places…”
Tears flow freely down her face as she reads letter after letter. There are grateful testimonials from soldiers, nurses, military doctors. They all speak of her courage, her compassion, specific moments where her presence meant the difference between life and death.
“Nicole Wright helped me contact them,” I explain. “When I mentioned your name, she went quiet for a moment, then told me you were a legend among the medical teams in Afghanistan. You never told me about your Silver Star for valor. Three consecutive flights to evacuate Bagram base while under attack. Wow. And you don't even brag about it.”
“Alexia…” her voice breaks as she hugs the letters tight against her chest. “This is… God, I can't…”
“You're incredible. I already admired you as a person, but learning this part of your life has been amazing. So many things make sense now. The way you get the hospital kids to smile with your stories, how Holly dreams of being like you someday. You show them that even in the darkest days, someone's always fighting for them.”
“I'm crying like an idiot,” she admits.
“You're still the bravest person I've ever met, even if we nearly killed ourselves in that snowstorm. Happy New Year, Selene Callahan,” I whisper against her lips, sealing the moment with a kiss.