Semper Fi Santa

Chapter One

Disclaimer- You know the deal, I don't own it, I'm just playing with Stephanie Meyer's toys. A Midsummer Night's Dream belongs to Shakespeare, also, not mine.

A/N: A very Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates. Lots of things going on in my RL world, but my DD dangled this prompt in front of me and Edward just wouldn't shut up. This one is short and sweet, drabble style chapters; not a ton of them, but I hope you enjoy. Not beta'd, so I'm owning it. Mistakes? My fault.

To my Impact readers… I write something every day. There have been some technical difficulties that must be sorted out, but know that I hope to have something for you soon. In the mean time, I bring you Semper Fi Santa

Edward Masen tugged at the collar of his dress blues. Trembling fingers fidgeted and fussed, pulling the hem of his sleeve down over the stark white glove, adjusting the smooth white belt. It seemed to take forever to get it just so. Ever the U.S. Marine, Masen stood tall and adjusted his cover.

This was his first "mission" since he'd set foot on American soil, and while his presence had only been summoned in hopes that people would open their hearts and their pocketbooks, ensuring that children who were less fortunate had gifts to open on Christmas morning, held as much importance as any objective on the battlefield.

It had been so long since he'd donned the uniform that signified his service to country. Hell, it had been a long time since he'd worn any sort of formal dress and the retired Staff Sergeant felt woefully out of his element.

Retired.

He scoffed when glanced at the reflection in the mirror. That was what they'd called it when they shipped him home in a wheelchair, the other members of his unit in caskets.

Permanent Disability—Retired.

It mattered not that he could take down a target at five-hundred yards, nor that he had been fully rehabilitated and was more physically fit than he'd been during his years of active service. Once the Physical Evaluation Board made their decision, a service man's fate was cast in stone. The VA Schedule for Rating Disabilities didn't make any exceptions in the absence of one's foot or any part thereof. Make it nearly an entire leg, you were pretty much fucked.

The hardest part of the whole thing was that they'd shipped his unit home without him. He'd lain in a military hospital in Germany being waited on hand and foot and they'd flown in a military cargo plane, each in a casket draped with Old Glory. He'd wanted nothing more in those early days than to join them wherever they'd gone. Musta been heaven, he figured, because he was certain he'd been thrust into Hell on earth.