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Elizabeth leaned against the balcony’s support pillar, trying to wedge herself into a non-existent patch of shade so she could linger outside a little longer. It had been a long morning at her desk and the fresh sea air was heaven. After the chill of the city’s cooling system, the warmth had been refreshing too, at first, but now, though she was trying to pretend otherwise, it was starting to get uncomfortable.
Elizabeth suddenly wondered how the Ancients had dealt with seasonal shifts. The city, of course, was a ship capable of interstellar flight, but did it have any methods of marine navigation? Thrusters or something to move it into cooler or warmer waters as the seasons dictated? Maybe the spot the Ancients had chosen had been consistently temperate ten-thousand years ago, negating any need to move the city. Or perhaps, most probably, they had all been so devoted to their scientific studies that they never bothered to set foot outside in the first place. It was one of the things that she felt dumb for never having thought of before, and was doubtless one of many such tiny, practical mysteries of Atlantis that got lost in the shuffle of the grander discoveries and yet was exactly the sort of historical detail she’d hoped to learn when she’d begun planning the expedition. She made a mental note to get Zelenka’s team to look into it, for the sake of history—she plucked at her shirt to circulate some air—and their own comfort.
She was just convincing herself she’d felt a whisper of breeze when Chuck’s voice buzzed in her ear. “Ma’am, we have an incoming wormhole.”
The familiar whine and thunk of the activating stargate was just audible through the feed, but none of the four teams currently off-world were due back yet. Her stomach gave a familiar swoop of mixed curiosity and alarm, though over the years the latter emotion had come to dominate the mixture. She tapped her radio, the balmy breeze forgotten, and stepped back inside. “Who is it?”
“Colonel Sheppard’s IDC.”
A second, equally familiar swoop—this one nearly unadulterated alarm, shot through with a patina-green wire of exasperation. “Of course it is,” she muttered, stepping more swiftly as she beelined to Chuck’s station. “Any emergency transmission?”
The sandy-haired technician replied in the negative and she gave the command to lower the shield. Crossing to the small jut of balcony overlooking the gate room, she counted down the moments until the sequence completed. The glistening turquoise puddle snapped into life and one, two, three… four figures stepped through. All ambulatory. All accounted for. The perpetual knot within her loosened a bit as she noticed no signs of any distress or danger. If anything, their step seemed unusually cheerful.
“Everything all right, Colonel?” she called down to them. Looking closer, she amended her initial observation: Rodney’s smile was actually a grimace, while Ronon and Teyla seemed mildly bewildered, if affable. John, however, was practically bouncing with enthusiasm. What in the Pegasus Galaxy had he done now?
He looked up at her, a grin on his face that, despite her suspicions, Elizabeth couldn’t help but return. Instead of answering her query, he pointed towards her office with an eager nod. His team waved to her in acknowledgment and disappeared towards the ready room. Elizabeth’s smile faded into a questioning look, but John merely repeated the gesture and, as he bounded up the stairs, she noticed for the first time the large bag slung over his shoulder. Now flamingly curious as well as thoroughly mystified, Elizabeth obeyed the non-verbal request and was standing ready behind her desk as he strode across the walkway towards her, wearing the smile that usually meant he was about to propose something dangerous.
“Okay, John, what is this about? What happened out there?”
He slung the bag off his shoulder and dropped it onto her desk with a solid sounding thud. He grinned. “Guess who just saved Christmas.”
The answer came so entirely out of left field that Elizabeth could only stare at him, unable to process the non-sequitur. “I’m sorry?”
John waved his hand at the bag. “Go on, open it!”
Giving him a puzzled frown, Elizabeth reached for the bag, which she now recognized as an insulated cooler, and unzipped it. A burst of cold air swirled around her hand as she lifted the flap. It took a moment for her brain to compute what she was seeing. Not a ZPM or treasure or even a new type of produce, but... “Snow?” She skimmed her fingertips across the gleaming white crystals, the chill shock against her skin confirming it. She looked up at John, her expression pleading for an explanation.
She had long suspected the strength of the inner child lurking inside John Sheppard—had even seen glimpses of him on occasion—and that suspicion was now confirmed beyond all doubt as he stood and beamed at her like a hyper ten-year-old. “Yep!” he affirmed, jabbing a finger at the cooler. “That is real, honest-to-goodness snow. Could give any powder on Earth a run for its money.”
“Okay... So what?”
“I told you. I just saved Christmas.”
“John...” Elizabeth shut her eyes.
“Look, it’s December on Earth, right?”
Elizabeth had to stop and think for a moment. All the data-bursts they sent to and received from the SGC were time-stamped with the Earth calendar, but she realized it had been quite a while since the line of text had held much beyond a purely technical meaning. Living in another galaxy would do that.
“Yes, it is,” she replied. “But I don’t see what a cooler-full of snow has to do with—”
“This is just a preview. Elizabeth, it’s eighty-eight degrees outside and blazing here, and”—he jerked his thumb towards the gate—“this place is straight out of a Christmas card. Where would you rather spend the holidays?”
With her mother, in the Federal-style brick house she’d grown up in, curled up in her father's old chair by the fireplace, snug against the DC chill. The thought was instant, startling, and the longing as sudden and intense, but she pushed them both away. That wasn’t going to happen this year.
“What exactly are you asking for?”
“Just make sure everyone who’s interested has off-world leave and a few hours off say… three days from now?”
She sighed, brain already straining under the weight of the logistical nightmare, the potential security risks. “I admit, I’d forgotten about the date. And you’re right; we should organize something. But doesn’t Carson usually take the lead on this?”
“Don’t worry about Carson; I’ll talk to him.”
“Then there’s the scale of what you’re proposing…”
He shrugged. “It’s an off-site office party. Companies do it all the time.”
Her mouth gave a wry twist. “I don’t think they extend their venue search to other planets. Are we even sure this one is safe?”
He gave a dismissive, almost Rodney-esque wave of his hand. “Our initial survey was clear. Look, I thought about it on the way back. Not everyone would even want to go, and I’ll arrange the security teams, on 8296 and here. Atlantis won’t be empty, just… slightly less full than normal.” His voice and his stance were confident, but she could tell he was about to break out the full puppy-dog pleading eyes. The expression that, though she’d never admit it to herself or anyone else, she’d always had trouble resisting.
Her hand rested on the rim of the cooler; the snow had already brought down the surrounding temperature by several degrees, conjuring visions of frost-gilded trees and an untouched white landscape. Christmas card-perfect, eh? She made the deliberate mistake of meeting John’s eyes. Drat. There it was. She fought the battle with a smile and lost. “I just hope you didn’t have any ideas about skiing, because I know for a fact that no one’s requisitioned any.”
His grin was immediate, the energy palpable, infectious. “Leave for anyone who wants it, three days,” he repeated, already backing away from the desk. He brandished a finger at her. “And that includes you.”
She chuckled, reaching for her tablet. “I’ll think about it.” She’d try and put in an appearance, maybe deliver her holiday well-wishes in the gate room as the revelers departed. Her workload likely wouldn’t allow for much more.
“No. You have to come.” John stopped in the doorframe, arm still suspended. “Promise.”
The sudden gravity in his tone made her pause. She lifted an eyebrow. “What are you up to?”
“Just promise, Elizabeth.”
He held her gaze, serious. Another face of his she couldn’t ignore. “Okay.” She dipped her head. “I will be there.”
The grin was back. “Good.” He turned to go.
“Wait, John...”
“Yeah?”
She circled her stylus at the cooler on her desk.
“Oh.” With a sheepish look, he collected it and left. Elizabeth sat down and settled back into work, a subtle anticipation lurking brightly in the back of her mind, content, for the moment, to leave him to his schemes.
Happy chatter greeted Elizabeth as she stepped into the control room. In the gate room below, imminent merry-makers were already gathering for the trip to John’s postcard planet, and as she peered down at them she counted no fewer than eight tacky sweaters and even a pair of flashing reindeer antlers. She shook her head; the nigh-black-market procurement abilities of the expedition personnel never ceased to amaze her.
“Are we ready?”
Chuck Campbell looked up from where he’d been peering over his substitute’s shoulder. “Yes, ma’am! Whenever you give the word.” The technician smiled at her as he tugged a striped beanie over his sandy hair, his green-paneled uniform swapped out for a thick green sweater and a winter coat.
Elizabeth nodded. “Okay, then. Consider it given.”
Chuck looked mildly disappointed.
She crossed her arms. “‘On Dasher, on Dancer?’ Is that better?”
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.” He tapped the on-duty tech on the shoulder and the sub’s hands darted over the crystal keys as he dialed the gate address. Chuck gestured her chivalrously towards the stairs and together they walked down to join the crowd filing cheerily through the active wormhole. She caught him giving several pointed nods and a few people grabbed him, whispering in his ear and surreptitiously pressing something into his palm.
“So what’s on the books for today?” Elizabeth asked, hiding her smile. “Who can build the biggest snowman?”
“Snowball fight,” Chuck answered, scribbling in a small notebook he pulled from his pocket. “Marines vs Air Force.”
“Ooo. Tough call. Who’s the favorite?”
“Marines, 5-1.”
She gave a hmm. “You know, being on Colonel Sheppard’s team, Ronon could be considered honorary Air Force. Anyway, I’m sure that’s how the colonel’s going to spin it.”
Chuck’s footsteps stalled, and the last thing Elizabeth saw before she turned to step through the glowing puddle was his frown of furious recalculation.
The temperature difference was drastic, and sudden. Elizabeth gasped, the wall of cold air taking her breath away as she cleared the event horizon, arms automatically wrapping around her torso. And she wasn’t the only one. Around her, a chorus of shivers and joking complaints rippled through the crowd. But it only took a moment for her eyes to take over the sensory controls and she stood gaping, careless of the cold. John had been right.
The landscape was, cliche as it was to think it, a winter wonderland. Trees stood tall and dark against a starry sky, their branches dusted with snow and dripping with ice crystals. In the clearing where the gate stood, huge drifts of pristine snow glistened in the moonlight. Elizabeth half expected to hear strains of Tchaikovsky at any minute, or see a parade of white-tutu-ed figures dancing out from the shadows beneath the trees. Perhaps they would have, but the jolly, excited noise from the Atlantean visitors had scared them off.
Traffic flowed smoothly away from the gate, and as the crowd parted, Elizabeth saw why: a pair of Marines—as John’s security plans had promised—stood guard, surveying the stream of arrivals. But they hadn’t been left to stand in the cold; they flanked a flickering brazier, whose flames cast a merry orange light onto a cardboard sign taped to a stick stuck in the snow. She smiled as she got closer and made out the words ‘X-MAS PARTY THIS WAY’ in John’s handwriting above a large black arrow. Following the arrow, a line of torches formed a golden path leading deeper into the woods.
As she moved away from the brazier’s circle of warmth, Elizabeth zipped up her winter coat, both it and the plush red pullover beneath it holdovers from her days in the Antarctic outpost. Gloves waited in her pockets, but as she followed along with the others down the packed-snow path, she suspected she’d be envying Chuck his hat before too long.
The trail wound through the trees and about five minutes elapsed before Elizabeth and the rest entered a large clearing that was obviously party central. A bonfire snapped and crackled in the center of the space, instantly inviting, though other braziers were scattered around providing light and extra warmth. Several long tables stretched out between the fires, laden with food and at least two steaming ceramic punch bowls that were already drawing a line. Music drifted from portable speakers and, in another feat of requisition prowess, someone had strung several strands of colored Christmas lights (presumably battery powered) between the trees and wrapped them around a towering pine tree at the clearing’s head, the glowing red and green an unexpected piece of home that pricked at Elizabeth’s heart.
Several festive greetings were aimed her way and she returned them with a smile as her eyes scanned the crowd of familiar faces. There was Carson, talking to Cadman and Heightmeyer. Parks and Miko from the engineering team. Ah! Teyla, Ronon, Rodney and—peering around the clearing with a half-anxious look on his face—John. His searching gaze landed on her and his expression cleared, growing into a smile. She took a step towards them.
“Merry Christmas, Doctor Weir!” One of the medical staff, wearing tinsel on her head, popped out of nowhere and handed her a lollipop. “Sorry it’s not a candy cane, but I picked through our supply and got all the red and green ones out.”
“Oh, thank you. Merry Christmas.” She stuck the candy in her pocket and when she looked up, Rodney, Teyla and Ronon were headed her way but John was nowhere to be seen.
“Elizabeth!” Rodney rubbed his gloved hands together before tucking them under his armpits. “So you decided to brave the frigidity after all. If I were you, I’d have stayed at home in my nice cozy office, but some of us didn’t get a choice in the matter.”
Rodney’s glare was target-less and Elizabeth guessed that John’s sudden absence might’ve been strategic in nature. “Well, it’s Christmas, Rodney. Try to embrace the atmosphere.”
“Yes, as it embraces me in the tender arms of hypothermia and frostbite.”
“Would it actually kill you to be a little festive?”
“Didn’t I just answer that?”
“It’s just snow,” said Ronon. Other than a pair of fingerless gloves and his long leather coat, he was hardly bundled up any more than usual. “And there’s a fire ten feet away.”
“Look, I’m Canadian. We don’t enjoy winter, we endure it as a feature of character building.”
Teyla gave him an incredulous look. “But did your country not invent that winter sport you are so fond of mentioning? Hockey?”
“That sounds like enjoying it to me,” said Ronon.
“Okay, fine. There is a certain segment of the population that ekes out some amusement from the cold. But the smart ones know better.”
“I thought Jeannie mentioned that she loved to go skiing every year,” said Elizabeth.
“Can’t get much smarter than her,” said Ronon with a grin.
Rodney floundered for a bit before grumbling, “Just point me to the hot chocolate.”
Elizabeth gladly joined them and in a few minutes—Rodney had tried to get her to use her position to cut in line, but she’d refused—she had a steaming cup of rich, sugary goodness in hand, set to melt away her worries like the marshmallows that were already dissolving inside. While she waited for the team to get theirs, she found a seat where she could get a good view of the whole space and settled in to sip and watch her people enjoy themselves. Her scientists and technicians, medical staff and military ate and drank and danced and mingled. At the edge of the clearing, two snowmen already stood, watching the party with placid pebble smiles, with two more currently under construction by a group from the engineering department. Others were plopping themselves into snow banks to make angels while a group of off-duty Marines ranged into the edges of the forest, pointing and consulting amongst themselves. Elizabeth guessed they were scouting out the best location to build a snow fort for the upcoming battle. She laughed to herself. Let the kids loose and they will play, even if they happened to be fully grown adults.
“Veselé Vánoce, Doctor Weir.”
“Děkuju, Radek. Veselé Vánoce i tobě.” She clocked the bespectacled scientist’s Santa hat and large bag. “Did you get roped into playing Secret Santa?”
“No, thank goodness. Dr. Beckett asked me to help him distribute these.” He reached into his bag and pulled out an emerald-foiled Christmas cracker, waving it towards Carson, who was cheerily handing out the paper packets on the other side of the clearing. Apparently John’s change of venue hadn’t dampened any of the good doctor’s plans or his holiday spirit. Carson was wearing a Santa hat too, though his was tartan-patterned, as was the scarf looped around his neck.
“Don’t forget to try some of the fish on the buffet,” said Radek as he handed her the gift. “It’s not quite the same as carp, but maybe it will still do the trick, eh?”
It took Elizabeth a moment to recall the Czech tradition. “I’ll be sure and do that,” she said. “We definitely need all the luck we can get.”
“Ano, opravdu,” agreed Radek with a nod. “But ah, excuse me”—he tapped his bag—“I must go and be a good elf, as ordered.”
Elizabeth just smiled and shook her head as Radek moved away. She turned the green cracker over in her hands, the smooth, shiny paper crinkling as she ran her thumb over it. It took her back almost three years ago, to that first year in Atlantis, that first holiday season in another galaxy, when they’d been cut off from Earth. With one crisis and another, there had been a lot of things on their collective minds, but even so, they’d done their best to mark the occasion, keep up the morale. Carson hadn’t been able to get his hands on any foil at the time for the crackers themselves, but he’d wrangled some other supplies from the Athosian trade network and made the paper crowns that were meant to go inside. Hers had been red, of course; crumpled and slightly torn, it was still folded away inside a notebook in her dresser.
“Please tell me I didn’t hear the words ‘Secret Santa.’” Rodney plopped down onto the bench next to her, his hot chocolate sloshing dangerously.
“Relax, there isn’t one,” said Elizabeth, subtly scooting further away.
“Good. I’ve always hated those things. How are you supposed to know what to get people?”
“You could just ask them what they like,” said Ronon, straddling the bench across from her.
“Ah, but then it’s not much of a secret, is it?” said Elizabeth with a smile.
“See?” said Rodney, pointing a finger at her. “It’s like it’s deliberately designed to be as awkward and confusing as possible. Or like it’s some kind of test on how well you know the person. I know people! Just because I may not know what kind of scented candle they might like doesn’t mean I don’t—”
“So what would you get me?” asked Ronon.
Put on the spot, Rodney gaped for a minute, then shrugged. “Well, you’re easy. Some kind of knife, I guess.”
Ronon angled his head to one side, as if to say ‘yeah, ok.’ “Teyla?”
“Should I be concerned?” Teyla joined them at the table.
“McKay’s telling what he’d get you for Christmas.”
Rodney squirmed a bit. “New fighting sticks?”
“Sheppard?” said Ronon, not letting up.
“Come on… I don’t know. Industrial strength hair gel?”
Elizabeth nearly snorted into her hot chocolate and, catching Teyla’s laughing eyes, had to set down the mug to keep from spilling.
“And what about me?” said Elizabeth, when she could speak through the laughter in her throat. “We have worked together a long time now.” She smirked as she watched a kind of panic set in.
Rodney floundered. “I uh… a um… scented candle?” His voice squeaked as he made the suggestion.
Elizabeth caught Ronon’s amused eyes and gave a copy of his earlier ‘well, you got me’ gesture. “I’d say he passed, wouldn’t you?”
“I think I agree with McKay on this one. Seems like a weird tradition.”
“Thank you! Wait, then why did you put me through all— Okay, so what would you get me? No, you have to tell me. It’s only fair…”
Elizabeth was relieved when she was called away to take the first honorary whack at the homemade Christmas piñata that Drs. Lopez and Ramirez had put together. Afterwards, she mingled through the crowd on her duty rounds, offering holiday greetings and gratitude for all of the work her people had done over the past year. That done, she snagged a cup from one of the steaming, almost-certainly-spiked punch bowls and drifted towards the edge of the clearing to catch her breath.
Sipping the definitely-spiked brew, she watched the nearby sculptors as they added to the rapidly growing family of snowmen and other creations, including one that she thought at first was a giant snowflake before she realized it was a model of Atlantis. The artists’ faces were red, their clothes damp and dusted with snow, but their faces were bright and their laughter was loud. She got so engrossed in watching them that she didn’t notice anyone approaching until she felt the nudge on her shoulder.
“Having a good time?”
Whirling, she found John at her side. She gave a startled laugh. “Where have you been?” she demanded softly, a kind of relief melting away the background flicker of tension—not quite worry—that she only just realized had been there.
“Pretty good crowd, isn’t it?” He nodded towards the party, loosening his blue scarf as if he were too warm. A black turtleneck shirt peeked from under it, but that and a heavy-duty flight jacket were his only other concessions to the weather. His breath was a little fast too. Had he been running?
“It is. I don’t know how you pulled it off so quickly, but I admit… you were right. We needed this. And this place is beautiful. Although…” She nodded across the clearing towards the line of torches that led to the stargate. “I am a little disappointed in the lack of horse-drawn carriages.”
“Well, this was kinda a last minute thing and, you know, the boss is really stingy about the budget…”
She laughed and he grinned.
“On that note though,” he said, “there is one little detail that could use your approval before anybody else sees it.”
“Is that so?” Seemed a bit late for that, given that the party was already in full swing, but she was feeling too festive to quibble. “I should’ve known you were up to something. Even you couldn’t have been hiding from Rodney all this time.”
John smirked and then his gaze turned suddenly furtive, mysterious, as he glanced around as if to make sure no one was watching. Subtly, he jerked his head towards the forest behind them. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
The mystery—and the playful glow in his eyes—was irresistible, and, giving her own secretive glance around, Elizabeth set her cup on a nearby rock and followed him without further inquiry or protest. They slipped through the trees, the light and sound of the clearing with its amber glow and merriment soon fading into a cool blue silence as they went deeper into the woods. This particular planet boasted several moons and they shone down through the night, throwing soft shadows around tree trunks that stood bold as strokes of ink against the blue-tinted blanket of snow.
Neither Elizabeth nor John spoke as they walked. The path of John’s previous footsteps was easy to spot in moonlight that bright, no need for extra concentration, but the powder-gilded trees soaring above them were as grand and as reverent as any cathedral and the deeper into the forest they went, the more the quiet stillness of the snow became itself almost a tangible presence, broken only by the whispering crunch of their footsteps. Yet even so, the silence between them was a comfortable one, easy and warm, tinged with the excitement of Elizabeth’s curiosity and John’s smug secrecy. Their shoulders would occasionally brush as they walked and as the light through the branches cast another tracery of shadow lace across their path, Elizabeth was struck by the impulse, so strong that it startled her, to reach out and take John’s hand.
Abruptly, she stepped wide, putting more distance between them at the same moment that John stuck his hands in his coat pockets. He glanced at her and then the ground, as if checking to see if she’d stumbled over anything. “You okay?”
His voice broke the spell. “Yes, fine,” she said, glad for the blue gloom that hid the blush she could feel rising in her cheeks. Ridiculous. “So what was it you wanted to show me?” she asked quickly. “If this is for the party, aren’t we getting a little far away?”
He simply smiled. “Almost there.”
They continued down the path, towards a stretch of wood where the tall trees were more sparse and the undergrowth thicker with short pines and bare-branched saplings. Elizabeth squinted, peering through the gloom. Was it her imagination, or was it brighter up ahead?
Light, faint but warm, seemed to halo around the silhouettes of a cluster of juvenile pine trees. Elizabeth shot John a questioning glance but received only another eager smile in return. Dying of curiosity now, she let her stride quicken as they rounded the bend in the path.
Elizabeth froze, gasping as she half wondered if those few steps had taken her across lightyears and time itself, for in the center of a clearing stood a Christmas tree straight out of her fondest memories. For a moment, she could almost hear the low rumble of her father’s voice—‘and all through the house, not a Lizzie was stirring. Well, except for the mouse…’—smell the sulfur as he fumbled with the matches, feel the press of his arms as he wrapped that scratchy plaid blanket around her shoulders… She stepped closer to the tree, letting out a laugh that was part delight, part shock. This was a dream. The tree had no ornaments or tinsel, but its feathery limbs were dusted with icy garlands of snow and glittered with the light of dozens of small candles, their flickering flames casting a pool of living gold against the settled darkness. In the hush, she could just hear the gentle snap and crackle of the flames.
The crunch of footsteps behind her recalled her to the present, and she turned to John with quiet wonder in her voice. “You did this?”
She expected to see that endearing boyish pride on his face, but instead found an unexpected tenderness. It was gone in a moment though, hidden by a shrug and the more familiar lopsided smile. “I think the Athosian candle maker thought I was crazy when I told him what I wanted them for. Apparently, trees are flammable. Who knew?”
She laughed, hugging her arms against her torso to combat a sudden shiver, her eyes drawn back to the glow. “But how did you—?” This had to be a coincidence; John couldn’t possibly have known what it would mean to her, yet… She shut her eyes as the memory hit her. “The paper chains.”
Last year, for Atlantis’s second Christmas, Carson had been determined to make up for the dearth of cheer from the year before and had bullied one of the Marines into cutting down a tree from the mainland and setting it up in the mess. He’d also press-ganged a few volunteers, Elizabeth and John included, into making decorations; however their mutual lack of artistic skill had quickly gotten them assigned to paper chain duty. The network of requisition wizardry hadn’t managed to conjure any proper lights yet, and as the two of them had sat looping and stapling strips of paper, John had jokingly offered to stick a few flares on the tree’s branches. She’d told him then about her father’s tradition.
How the forward-thinking professor had had an oddly traditionalist streak, especially when it came to Christmas, and how his wife held a firm devotion to the white-tinsel aesthetic she’d first cultivated in the sixties and refused to have one of those messy, weak-limbed fire hazards—aka a live tree—in the house. As a form of compromise, or perhaps in protest, Elizabeth’s father had bought a living pine tree, planted it in the backyard and covered it in as many real candles as he could. And every year after, the night after candle day, he would drag the pair of worn-out Adirondack chairs across the yard, and Elizabeth and her father would sit around the blazing tree, just the two of them, wrapped in blankets and drinking hot chocolate. They’d sing songs, recite poems and every year he would take a big breath of pine-scented air, nod at his handiwork and say, ‘Now this, Lizzie… this is really Christmas.’
She looked at John in amazement as he moved to stand by her side. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”
He shrugged again, not meeting her eyes. “So, how did I do? Would it have met the Mr. Weir seal of approval?”
Elizabeth’s throat went tight—it seemed so long since she’d heard her father’s name spoken out loud— even as a rush of warmth spread to her chilled fingers. She took in John’s snow-dusted boots, the tracks circling endlessly around the tree. The path through the woods had been too well-trod to reveal how many trips it had taken to haul everything here and set it up, but it must’ve been quite a few. His hands were still hidden in his coat pockets, but from her memories she could well imagine what shape they might be in after battling needle and branch, hot wax and flame. Then there was his insistence that she attend the party, maybe (though she hesitated to go that far) even this whole off-world excursion itself… He’d done this for her.
All to give her back a piece of home that had been gone long before she’d ever left Earth. Elizabeth blinked against suddenly stinging eyes, her gaze drifting from John's profile back to the tree. The slightest whisper of breeze sent the candles flames dancing, scattering patterns of glittering light over the snow. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “Perfect.” Her father would have loved it. “Mom and I didn’t carry on the tradition after he passed away. I don’t think I realized how much I missed it.”
“I get that,” said John. “My, uh—my mom was the big Christmas one in our family.” Startled, Elizabeth froze, wanting to stare but afraid that if she moved he would stop speaking; she didn’t think she’d ever heard him mention his mother before, in the entire time she’d known him. “It was never the same after…” He didn’t have to finish the sentence; she had seen the note in his personnel file: cancer, before he’d graduated high school. Elizabeth’s heart ached and she risked a glance. His gaze was fixed on the tree, a slightly faraway look in his eyes. “She agreed with your dad: live trees all the way. We usually got them delivered pre-cut, but there was one year”—one corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile—“I managed to talk her into getting my dad to take us out and cut down our own tree.”
“Sounds fun.”
He gave a wry—but not bitter—laugh. “Actually, it was terrible. My dad and Dave both hated it; neither of them really wanted to be there, but Mom had made them. Dave kept complaining about walking so far, none of us could agree on which tree we wanted, and eventually Dad got so fed up that he just cut the nearest tree to hand—this scrawny, pathetic thing—and dragged us back to the car. Cue a miserable ride home. But when we got there, Mom had laid out this incredible, corny-Christmas-movie spread: hot chocolate, cookies, the works. Then she got out every ornament in the house and we spent all afternoon decorating that sorry-ass excuse for a tree till you could hardly see a branch.”
“Very Charlie Brown,” Elizabeth said softly, smiling.
He nodded. “Her favorite. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had planned the whole thing that way. Probably told my dad to get the worst tree possible just for that.” He chuckled, and watching the way the candlelight played across his face, a lightness in his features that had nothing to do with the ambience, Elizabeth felt like she’d been given another gift.
She let herself sway, nudging his shoulder with hers. “Sounds like thoughtful, elaborate schemes run in the family.”
Another laugh, a real one this time, and as he turned to look at her there was that tenderness again, enough to almost snatch her breath away.
“Merry Christmas, Elizabeth,” he said softly.
She smiled back. “Merry Christmas, John.”
She held his gaze for as long as she dared before making herself look away, but she didn’t move. They stood, shoulder pressed to shoulder in the snow, watching the candles burn, flickering their message of light and life, light and life.
Part of Elizabeth wanted to stay there forever, but she was gradually forced to admit that beauty, no matter how tranquil and timeless, couldn’t warm her increasingly numb feet. “Shouldn’t we be getting back?" Besides, she now had a request to make of their makeshift DJ, a certain jazzy piano tune from a cartoon special. "I hear there are some pretty high odds riding on an Air Force victory in that snowball fight, and I’d hate to be responsible for the loss.”
A gleam entered his eyes and she guessed he was imagining how sweet it would be to rub the win in the Marines’ faces. "Yeah, you’re probably right.” But still neither of them moved for several long seconds. “I should…” He gestured at the tree. “I should probably blow these out before we start a forest fire; they’re burning kinda low.”
As he went to bend towards the first candle, she turned her back. She knew she should offer to help, but she selfishly wanted to preserve the scene in her memory, leave the candles burning forever perfect in her mind. And even if she been willing to give up the company, she also knew that John wouldn’t like the idea of her walking back alone, no matter how much she promised to stay on the path and not to talk to any nightcap-sporting wolves. Behind her, John’s feet shuffle-crunched through the snow and Elizabeth watched as, bit by bit, the splash of golden light along the snowy branches in front of her shrank until cool night-blue regained its icy sway.
An approaching crunch of boot-steps and John reappeared at her side, a box of spent candles on his hip and a fresh dusting of tree-shed snow moonlight bright against his dark hair. His breath was a plume in the frigid air. “Ready?” He stuck out his free elbow in a show of affected gallantry. Elizabeth hesitated for a moment then smiled as she looped her arm through his; she’d be sure to drop it before they reached the party and besides… it was cold.
“So,” she said as they retread their earlier steps, “after the snowball fight, would you care to join me for some of Radek’s Christmas fish?”
“The lucky kind?”
“Yes. I recommend you eat an entire plateful.”
Their laughter melted into the surrounding snow.