Christmas in Richmond - (HFD Bonus Chapter)

December 24th, 1862
9 days after the victory at Fredericksburg

	The first thing you noticed about Richmond was the damn freezing wind. The snow had stopped that morning, but now you were under fire from gust after biting gust that proved your greatcoat useless. On a lighter note, the second thing you observed were the beautifully lit buildings that were swarming with customers, most of which were soldiers on furlough buying new clothes to replace their soiled rags. Were you not in the city to meet a specific person, you would have certainly joined them to purchase a new pair of boots. However, this visit was far more important than shopping.
	The cramped carriage finally came to a stop in front of a white three-story building. Aside from the giant pillars you saw supporting the porch on the rear side, the place didn't look like much of a "White House" in the way Washington's did. The only clue that important people were inside was the number of gray-suited guards posted near the front door. At your arrival, the one closest to the street shouldered his musket and approached the carriage.
	"Welcome, sir!" he loudly greeted while shakily opening the door, "We've been expecting you both for some time!" The blonde guard looked several years younger than you, based on his round and hairless face. His bright red cheeks stuck out against his pale skin, and he was heavily shivering from the cold evening wind. As you stepped out into the night air, you turned slightly back and offered a hand to your companion still inside. It was quickly accepted by a familiar wooden palm poking out of an even more familiar brown sleeve.
	It was only when the street light shined on Dixie's face that the guard thought to give a salute to you both. You mirrored the action out of impulse, but she only chuckled and tapped his shoulder.
	"Heh heh! No need to tremble in front of me, son!" she said with a smile, "I won't hurt ya!"
	"S-sorry ma'am!" the young guard blurted out, "It's very cold out, and I'm only shivering, not trembling!"
	She gave him one last smirk before strolling up the front steps, still proud of her joke.
	"...She's only kidding, son" you quietly told him, but he didn't appear any less worried. Almost immediately, you decided it wasn't worth staying out in this weather to calm this confused kid, so you walked past him towards the front door.

	Once inside and out of the freezing cold, an aging staff colonel led you both up a staircase and seated you on a hard wooden bench near the end of a short hallway, opposite a chestnut colored door. What felt like ten minutes passed by in silence, though occasionally broken up by questions and short answers. Thanks to the bench, which was far less comfortable than a church pew, your rear was starting to ache. At least the smell of pine throughout the building was a pleasant distraction.
	"...So what do you think he'll tell us?"
	You shifted your gaze from the frosted window at the end of the hall to her, noting how she tightly held onto her gray kepi with both hands on her lap. There was a clear glimmer of anxiety in her eyes, as if she had been court martialed and was waiting for her trial.
	"Oh, he'll probably just thank you for inspiring the nation or something of that sort," you replied. "...You're not nervous, are you?"
	"No, it's just... it's a whole different thang goin' from meetin' people like Longstreet and Lee to meetin'-"
	Suddenly, the chestnut door opened and in stepped a black suited man with a short dark beard hanging from his jaw. There was a very brief moment of panic as you realized you were staring at the face of President Jefferson Davis.
	At once you both stood up and saluted, though Dixie half a second behind you. Unlike the two soldiers facing him, he was completely relaxed as he touched the side of his forehead; a very laid-back salute in return. He quickly glanced at Dixie and peered down the hall, glaring at the colonel.
	"My sincere apologies," he spoke with a dignified and softly accented voice, offering his hand to her first, "My aide was SUPPOSED to inform me of your arrival." She didn't say anything as she took his hand, still in a state of somewhat shock. You figured you would do the talking for now.
	"Don't worry, we didn't wait too long, sir," you said while expressionless. You chose to play it safe with the grinning, not knowing how he'd react even with your rank and her popularity.
	"Well, that's good to hear, Captain." It took him a moment, but he did reach out for your hand as well. While his grip was very firm, he soon let go and pointed his arm towards the open door. "May we continue this conversation in my office?"

	Nine months ago, you were just a librarian that had no interest in participating in the war. Now, you were an infantry captain, standing in the personal office of the president of the CSA. It wasn't as large a room as you envisioned, but it certainly gave off an aura of great importance when you set foot inside, regardless of who worked there. A large reddish desk sat near the opposite wall with a white window directly to its right. Decorated across the walls were paintings of famous Virginians and former US presidents, with a small yet fully decorated Christmas tree placed in the far corner of the room. Right near the center, however, were two small sofas facing each other with a short table between them. Dixie finally broke her silence by saying exactly what you were thinking.
	"My God, I never thought I'd find myself standin' in our White House, let alone your office!"
	Davis exhaled and smirked at her statement, putting you slightly at ease. "Yes, not many non-staff officers get the opportunity to privately speak with me," he said. "Why don't you two have a seat? I have a feeling you both might be a bit weary after last week's battle."
	You and her gently sat down on one sofa while he positioned himself on the other. His eyes then locked with yours as he leaned slightly forward.
	"May I get you anything to eat or drink, Captain?" he politely asked, ready to call on one of his servants down the hall. You respectfully declined his offer, and an awkward silence filled the room for several seconds.
	"I've read all the reports from my top generals, but I've yet to hear anyone tell me in person what Fredericksburg was like. Would one of you care to, for my sake?"
	Instead of talking right away, you turned and looked at Dixie, signaling for her to be the storyteller. She stammered for a moment while squeezing her kepi, but she forced herself to calm down and speak.
	"...Of all the battles I've been in yet, sir," she half-whispered, "Fredericksburg was one of the bloodiest ones I've seen. Not that I mind that sort of thang anymore, but... it was less of a battle and more of a slaughter. It's not somethin' you can easily describe, sir, but I'll try my best... On the 13th, they briefly broke through our line along the railroad tracks, but we pushed 'em back with great ferocity, Mr. President." Her voice became less shaky as she relaxed, taking on a tone you'd often hear as she informally chatted with privates. "They call our area where Jackson's Corps was the "slaughter pen," she continued, getting more excited with each word, "but I think Longstreet's position along the heights is more deservin' of that name! I heard the federals kept comin' up in wave after wave toward the stone wall and gettin' cut down like grass! The next night, the northern lights were shinin' down on all of us, like the Lord himself was blessin' our victory! I killed so many Yankees that-"
	"I get the idea, Sergeant Major, thank you," Davis said, cutting her story short as respectfully as possible. "I've seen my share of bloodshed in the Mexican War, so I have no trouble imagining what you both witnessed. However... the only thing I wish I saw were those beautiful lights."
	You decided to add, "They were a really wonderful sight, sir."
	"Anyway," he began, "I invited you both here to tell you how proud I am of your actions this past year. From what General Jackson has told me, you both have displayed great courage in the face of the enemy countless times, and are an ever-continuing source of inspiration for the troops in our eastern army!"
	It was clear he was just saying "you both" out of courtesy, because you were fully aware "Dixie" was the name the whole Confederacy knew and not "Ardwick". You held nothing against Davis, but by this point, you were wondering why you were even invited if she was the important one.
	"...If only we had a Dixie in the west as well," you mumbled aloud, gazing at the low tabletop. It was no secret that the Confederate army in the Western Theater was suffering defeat after defeat, but you didn't know enough about their command to even consider placing blame.
	"If only, Captain," Davis responded somberly. He cleared his throat and stood up as a way to signify the end of the meeting. "Well, Captain, Sergeant Major, I would like to conclude this visit by being the one to salute first, as a way of expressing my sincere gratitude to you both."
	A little unusual, you thought, but he DOES outrank you. You and Dixie swiftly joined him in the standing position and watched as he gave a far more careful salute than earlier. With a mimic of the motion and a "thank you, sir", your private meeting with the president of the Confederate States of America was over.

	"Well, that was brief," Dixie said on the way down the staircase. "We waited for longer than the meetin' was!"
	"Yes, but I didn't mind. Davis was far less stern than I expected."
	"Eh, he's okay," she murmured, "but I definitely went in more scared than I shoulda been."
	As you both were feet away from the front door, a man's voice called out from behind: "Captain Ardwick! Miss Dixie! Wait one damn second, please!"
	You spun around and saw the staff colonel from before, holding a large paper-wrapped item in his boney hands. He was breathing heavily, likely in a hurry to find you both.
	"I apologize, but I... *huff* forgot to give you this!" he said while thrusting the gift in your hands. It wasn't as light as you thought, but there was also an envelope pasted on the top that you didn't see a moment ago. "Stonewall Jackson was here a few days ago to meet the president... and he came up with some gift ideas for you both... I was tasked with purchasing them on Davis' behalf. Merry Christmas... you two!"
	"Same to you, Colonel, and thank you!" Dixie cheerfully replied with yet another salute.

	The next morning, you opened the package in the comfort of your heated room at an inn downtown. Inside were a pair of shiny black boots with a Remington revolver, and in the envelope were fifty Confederate dollars. Right away, you knew the boots were for you, because you made an offhand comment to Jackson last week about the small holes opening up under the heels. Engraved on the pistol's barrel were "Dixie" on one side and "A Deadly Southern Belle'' on the other, giving away who it was for. The money paid for a very fancy dinner on the night of the 28th, but you decided to save the rest. Overall, it wasn't a bad batch of gifts that Christmas.
	You wore those boots for the remainder of the war and many years after, staying completely intact the whole time. Unfortunately, Dixie lost her beautiful Remington about six months later on the Gettysburg battlefield, but she didn't grieve for long. As long as you were with her, she once told you, she'd be content with just "throwin' rocks" at the Yankees.