The One With The Truth About Santa
By: Jana~
Chapter Seven
*******
--Monica looked in awe at the large screen in front of her. It almost looked like a cross between a television set and a movie theater screen, though it was larger than any TV she'd ever seen, and smaller than any movie screen. Projected, were smaller squares, like picture-in-picture would be on a more expensive TV, but the whole screen was made up of pictures, all showing children at play, or doing chores, or other tasks or activities of the like.
"This is the Naughty or Nice Meter," Chandler told her. "Like a computer, it calculates the behaviors of those who believe in Santa Claus, and collates the names into each list – naughty or nice. If we need to, or want to, we can call up a specific child and check on them, or if the data is inconclusive, the computer will place them in a third list, 'To Decide', and I would then review that child's behavior, and decide which list to place them on."
"You sure wouldn't want to have a crash on this computer," Monica muttered, but Chandler just chuckled.
"It's not like a Pentium computer, Mon, it's part of the magic that runs all of this. It has never crashed since its existence, so I wouldn't worry too much about that as possible. But," he changed the subject, "Here is what is interesting…"
He brought the keyboard more to face him, then started typing names, narrowing the search with a click of the mouse. "I can see anyone I want to see," he explained, the little windows on the screen starting to call up specific images. "Here's Rachel," he announced, "And here's Ross. Phoebe," he said with a click, "And here's Joey."
"Now," he said with a grin, "Watch what happens when I click this."
The words at the top of the screen said: 'Belief', and when he clicked it, a gauge of sorts appeared beneath the images of their friends.
Monica scowled, and asked, "What is it I'm looking at?"
"This tells me who believes in Santa, and who doesn't. And to what percentage. Under Ross' name, it says 1%, under Rachel's, 7%, but, now, look under Joey's and Phoebe's names," he instructed.
With a smile, she whispered, "They believe."
He nodded happily. "They believe in Santa!" he exclaimed. "Isn't that awesome?"
"So, now, do they get presents? Because they believe?"
"Well, no," he explained. "Only children get gifts. It's rare, when we find adults who believe. It is those adults who usually end up joining us, here at the North Pole. I'm thinking of asking them to join me," he added as he pointed at their pictures on the screen. "Ask them to be elves."
"I could so see them doing this," she told him, and he nodded.
"And," he asked, "What about you?"
"What about me?" Her slight smirk told him exactly where she stood.
"Would you want to join me, in this amazing adventure and purpose?"
"Well, if I'm Mrs. Claus," she asked, "What would my duties be, exactly?"
"Well," he said with a smile that could not be contained, "Your number one job would be to make sure Santa is happy."
"I think I'm up for that challenge," she returned with a light kiss to his lips. "What else?"
"Well, usually, commonly, Mrs. Claus is in charge of the kitchen." He beamed when she did.
"I would be, like, head chef?"
A firm nod was his answer. "The elves have to eat sometime," he added. "And, you would have help, of course, cause during the busy time we can have upwards of two thousand elves here, on call."
"Wow," she gasped, "That many?"
"The show isn't run by just me, believe me."
She smiled, but a concerned expression soon took its place. "But wait," she asked, "What about Ross and Rachel?"
With a shrug, he said, "I can't make them believe, and as you can see," he added, gesturing to the large screen that displayed the images of their friends, and the meter that showed them to have no belief in Santa, "They don't."
"So, then, what, we just leave them behind each year? I mean, can't you just, poof in and show them, like you did me?"
Realizing how upset this was making her, he wrapped his arms around her consolingly. "I wish there was another way, Mon, believe me, but it's against the rules to try to convince non-believers of Santa's existence by magical means. I can tell them who I am, but they have to believe on their own."
"You," he added, "Showed just enough belief to make appearing to you possible."
She scowled slightly when asking, "Where does the percentage have to be? Where was mine?"
"For everyone who doesn't possess one of these pendants," he explained, pulling back and touching the gold snowflake that still hung around Monica's neck, "Your belief percentage must be at least 50%. Your percentage was 25%."
"There's more than one of these?" she asked, glancing down briefly at the necklace.
Nodding, he said, "There are five."
"Why so many?"
"For Santa to give to his family. Wife, kids, a sibling, perhaps."
After a momentary pause, Monica sighed deeply, looking around her. "This is all so incredible. Beyond anything I would've dreamed possible."
"I know." He smiled, kissing her temple.
"When will you ask Phoebe and Joey?" she asked, curious.
"Soon," he replied. "Christmas is less than two weeks away."
*****
JUST SHY OF ONE YEAR LATER
--"Ok," Rachel announced as she barged into Chandler and Monica's apartment, "I have to know, what's going on with you guys?"
Monica only paused slightly in her task of folding towels before asking, "What are you talking about?"
"You and Chandler! Joey and Phoebe! You guys are keeping something from me! From me and from Ross!"
Monica forced a laugh. "You're paranoid. No one is keeping anything from anyone."
"Monica," she countered, "I hear things, ok? I hear the ends of hushed conversations when I enter the room. I see the knowing glances you guys all share."
Shaking her head, she said, "Honestly, Rach, I have no idea what you are talking about."
Rachel took in a deep breath she seemed to hold before blurting out, "Chandler is Santa Claus, isn't he?"
Monica startled, her mouth dropping open, but before she could say anything in response, Chandler appeared before them both, an ear-to-ear grin taking over his face. The significance of her husband's actions wasn't lost on her.
Stepping back, not out of fear but out of surprise, Rachel asked him, "How did you do that?"
His smile never faltered. "You already know."
With a smile beginning to appear, Rachel announced, "I want in."
A nod was his answer as he reached his hand out. "Believe it's possible, and take my hand, and I will show you."
She glanced at Monica, seeing the genuine expression of happiness on her face before reaching out and grasping Chandler's hand. "I think I'm about to be amazed," she whispered, and he squeezed her hand a little tighter in response.
"Don't let go," he told her, then, before Monica's eyes, they disappeared.
*****
--"I had someone monitoring both her and Ross," Chandler explained as Monica buzzed about, getting ready for bed. "As soon as she hit 50%, I was at the ready. She was so excited."
"And in everyone's excitement," Monica asked as she slipped into bed, "Did we forget to ask-?"
"No," he said quickly, cutting her off. "I asked." His hand came to rest on her swollen belly as he snuggled up against her. "A lot of women have used the Silaer while pregnant, and no harm ever came to them, or their unborn children."
"So, then, it's safe?"
"Perfectly safe," he assured her, pulling her closer to him.
"Does Rachel know she'll be in charge of shopping?" she asked, changing the subject back.
He chuckled. "Yeah, I think she was more excited about that than anything."
"Yeah, well," she laughed, "The woman does love to shop."
"Phoebe was giving her the final tour before orientation when I left," he added.
"That's good," she mumbled around a yawn; they both fell into a comfortable silence before she muttered, "One down, Ross to go."
THE ENDOk, folks, that's it. I could have made it longer, but originally, I had only meant for this story to be about two or three chapters. Just a short little Christmas story, ya'know? But now with Christmas over, it's time to move on with other stories.
I liked how this turned out, and I hope you do as well. Please, leave a review and tell me your thoughts.
MTLBYAKY