City sidewalks, busy sidewalks
Dressed in holiday style
In the air there's a feeling of Christmas
Children laughing, people passing
Meeting smile after smile
And on every street corner you hear
I love this time of year. For as long as I can remember, I've loved Christmas, even before I found out what it was all about from Sister Helen. There's a buzz in the air that doesn't happen at any other time of year. Of course on the colonies, we didn't get snow and such, everything being perfectly regulated and all, but Christmas was still Christmas. You can tell just from all the smarmy carols that blast from speakers in every shop, not to mention the tinsel decorations.
It's most obvious in the towns and cities, but even in the most out-of-the-way places the lights and trees with stars on them are appearing. It's just unavoidable, and he's taking it really hard. It's been steadily getting worse, especially over the last couple of weeks. Every time I get my baby close to smiling, he'll see or hear something to remind him of Christmas and even the ghost of a smile vanishes. I have to find a way to get him through this before it undoes everything I've worked so hard for over the last six months. I have a plan and, Santa, you have to help me make this work.
Usually by now, I'm in a frenzy of shopping, decorating and getting the other guys to enjoy my favourite celebration. Now that I think about it, it's only been since the war that I've been able to go all out for Christmas. Of course, Mariemaia's little adventure spoiled my first big effort but I managed to get everyone together for the next two. I thought they all enjoyed themselves... shows how deluded I can be sometimes. Last year only Tro and Q-ball turned up, but it didn't stop my frantic preparations. I wonder if Heero ever found his present. I know Fei got his. I left it with Marie and got a 'thank you' card a couple of weeks later. Mr I-don't-need-anyone-else can leave a forwarding address with the brat and my boyfriend... at the time... leaves me in the dark. I should've known better, should've...
I haven't been near a shop this year. I don't have the heart to drag my sweetie into the middle of the seasonal whirl and I dare not leave him alone. He's hiding it from me but I know he's been getting the shakes again. He wants a drink so bad, I can taste it.
I think that's why I decided on this detour. It may seem self-defeating, to be riding through this nation's capital city with its holiday crowds on Christmas Eve, but I'm a man with a mission.
And there is Santa! Exactly where I asked him to be. Thank you, God, for Interflora.
"Thanks!" I shout to the courier in the Santa suit waiting for us under the vacancy sign of the motel.
I slip him a sizable tip as, with a cheerful, "Ho ho ho," he passes me big, square box tied with a bright red bow and wrapped in chrismassy paper. The man even used a private car like I requested. It's worth every penny I spent on this pretty package.
Balancing the present on the handlebars is a bit tricky but it's not far to a parking space. Oh! From the chin resting on my shoulder, I can tell that my passenger is curious. "Why don't you go and get the keys," I suggest as he dismounts. "The booking's..."
"... under Maxwell," he mutters, finishing my sentence. I always get a little tingle up my spine when he does that. He's getting quite good at it, too.
While he's busy with reception, I slip into the corner store across the road for some candles. They even have red and green ones! I love it when a plan comes together.
Silver bells, silver bells
It's Christmas time in the city
Ring-a-ling, hear them ring
Soon it will be Christmas day
"I didn't get you anything," he confesses in the restaurant, head bowed over his roast dinner.
Oops. I hadn't considered how he might feel about the lack of presents. The gift I'm planning for him isn't physical. Ahhhhh... I let my grin light up my face. "If you can give me a single, genuine smile tomorrow," I tell him as I lift his chin up to lock my gaze with his baby blues, "you'll make my Christmas."
He tries and fails, but that's okay. It's not tomorrow yet.
Strings of streetlights, even stop lights
Blink a bright red and green
As the shoppers rush home with their treasures
Hear the snow crunch, see the kids bunch
This is Santa's big scene
And above all the bustle you hear
Silver bells, silver bells
It's Christmas time in the city
Ring-a-ling, hear them ring
Soon it will be Christmas day
My babe's carrying the box while I have the pack with the supplies. He's confused but game... and distracted. This is good.
"I don't get it," he grumbles. "Explain to me why we're picnicking, in a cemetery, in the middle of the night?"
"It's Christmas Eve," I remind him, stopping myself from saying more so that he can puzzle it out for a little while longer.
"So?" he finally asks after we trudge a little farther up the hill. "Which grave are we visiting, anyway?"
"The one right on top of the hill," I say as I decide to give him another hint. "We're not picnicking."
He stops and turns to face me, heaving what I assume is an exasperated sigh. "I give up! What are we doing?" Hah! I was right. He's forgetting to be glum in his frustration.
I can't deny it. I'm a softie, especially when he's looking at me with just a touch of alarm on his face. Can't have my baby scared, not on Christmas Eve. "We're going caroling."
"In a deserted cemetery?" He looks so nonplussed at the suggestion that I can't resist slipping my arm around his waist and urging him onward again.
"I was the God of Death for a little while there. I have lots of friends in dead places," I say, using as light a tone as I can manage. "Besides, this isn't just any old cemetery. It has significance. And it's NOT deserted." Pointing to the guard standing at his post, I announce, "We're there!"
"Where?" he asks, looking around for the first time tonight.
"We're in the National War Memorial and that is the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier."
He looks at the box in his hands. "This isn't for me, is it?" Good. His brain is finally kicking into gear.
"No, but go ahead and open it," I say as I spread our blanket on the steps in front of the tomb.
He kneels to place the box on the blanket before lifting the lid. After several layers of tissue, he pulls out the wreath that I ordered two days ago. It's a simple circle of red roses, stems all twined together.
"Think he'll like it?" I ask.
He stares at the flowers in his hands and doesn't say a word.
"A lot of good soldiers died in space that day. This place... it's a place for soldiers to be remembered long after the war is over." Now, how the hell do I say the rest of this? "I thought you might be wanting to remember him, but today is Christmas, too, so it's not just about him, or at least it shouldn't be."
My baby's looking at me now. His eyes are bright in the subdued lighting around the tomb, and when he blinks his lashes retain a glisten that whispers to me of unshed tears. He climbs up the few remaining steps to put the roses on the tomb.
I reach for the flask in my pack and pour us a mug of steaming hot cocoa. Then I light the candles. Thankfully, the air is calm tonight. I'm still glad that I insisted we dress extra warm for this.
When he returns to the blanket, he settles down against me and sips the chocolate I hand him. In his quilted jacket, he feels like a huge, cuddly teddy bear in my arms. Since he's sitting on a lower step, he head fits right into the space between my shoulder and neck. Is that a contented sigh I'm hearing?
With my cheek against his hair, arms resting across his chest, and our fingers entwined, we spend the rest of the night singing carols to dead soldiers. The candles flicker cheerily, lasting the remainder of the night. I'd like to think that the guards who kept vigil over the tomb enjoyed our efforts.
Just as the sky lightens with the dawn, it starts to snow. Large, fluffy flakes drift to the ground around us, inspiring one last rendition of White Christmas.
Long after the last notes die away, he shifts around to look at me. My heart stops at the smile that lights his face. "Merry Christmas," he whispers.
"Thank you," I breathe as I lean down to claim my gift. It's made my Christmas indeed.
The End