It's a new story! Jeremy misses Miles during the holidays.
Un-beta'ed, so quibble away.
- o – o -
It's Not Christmas Without You
One
Jeremy holds Bass as the man sobs into his coat, trying hard not to remember walking into Miles' office to see the man trying to kill his best friend. He tries hard not to remember that Miles tried to kill him too.
It's Christmas. Miles left two days ago. It's… It's not Christmas without Miles.
Bass clings to him, sobbing. Jeremy lets him, pretends that he doesn't see the package Miles had left for Bass burning to ashes in the fire. He pretends that he didn't help Bass shred the tiny Christmas tree Miles had put on the breakfast table in the spirit of the season.
He lets himself focus on the idea that something must have scared Miles. Because Miles would never have done something like this at Christmas without a serious push. Valentine's, maybe. April Fool's… Yeah, definitely. But at Christmas?
Bass cries himself to sleep in Jeremy's arms. Jeremy cradles him for the rest of the night.
It's not Christmas without Miles.
Two
Jeremy spends the second Christmas without Miles at the bottom of a bottle of moonshine. He doesn't really know where he is. He's still in Philadelphia. There are…lots of people to celebrate the season with. Jeremy takes another pull on his bottle, letting the alcohol burn a trail down his throat.
He knows, for a fact, that Bass is sitting in his office in Independence Hall, being a miserable bastard and not enjoying anything related to Christmas. Well, that's his schtick. Jeremy's going to enjoy himself. And then there's a young man sitting on his lap, giggling drunkenly and stealing his moonshine. Jeremy smiles, because the kid looks like a younger version of Miles, right down to the short brown hair and the wicked smile.
Jeremy presses a few coins into the kid's hand and lets himself forget, just for a few hours, that Miles isn't the one giving him a blowjob, or the one he's got on his hands and knees. He lets himself forget that he isn't kissing Miles on the temple and wishing him a Merry Christmas Eve.
It's not Christmas without Miles.
Three
Jeremy hates spending Christmas without Miles and Bass close by. He tries very hard not to be bitter as he sits in his tent somewhere in the northern reaches of the Republic, with only a bottle of hard liquor and the one picture of Miles and Bass that had survived Bass' enraged, alcohol fueled purge. The two men are in their dress uniforms—the ones from their days in the Marine Corps. They look happy. Bass has two smiling girls with braces and ponytails on his arms, and Miles has a little girl in his. Jeremy knows that the two girls with Bass are his sisters. Miles is holding his niece, Charlie, who's about two. It was probably the last time either man was truly happy…
He drinks more of the bottle and puts the picture on the small folding table next to his cot, propped up against the glass he's neglected to use. He falls asleep clutching the bottle by the neck, doing his best not to cry because it's Christmas, and he doesn't even have a Miles-lookalike to give him a guilty conscience in the morning.
Christmas without Miles just…isn't.
Four
Jeremy Baker has, for the first time in four years, a tiny glimmer of hope in his heart. He's seen Miles twice this year. The second time was in Philadelphia, and god did that hurt. He knows Bass will never understand, but he goes out in the dead of night on Christmas Eve with a handsaw. He has something he needs to do…
The tree is a bit scraggly, and there are no decorations on it, but it fits on the breakfast table. Jeremy wraps a blanket around the base of the tree where it's resting in a pot of water. And, because he's apparently lost all sense and self-preservation instincts, puts a package under the first Christmas tree this room has seen in three years. The package is something Miles had been saving back for Christmas morning the year he left. Jeremy thinks it's high time he finally brought it out.
It's not Christmas without Miles, but Jeremy's got hope for the first time in four years.
Five
It's just not Christmas without Miles. Jeremy knows that, once again, he'll just make do. He's in Independence Hall, sitting in front of the fireplace and staring drowsily into the flames. There's a scraggly Christmas tree—just like the ones Miles likes…liked—on the breakfast table. For once, there are a few packages that Jeremy hasn't had to hide for months in his saddlebags under the tree. Bass is laying on the floor, reading reports from the latest successful campaign. The Georgia Federation rolled over after the helicopters shot their capital all to hell a few months ago. It's been quiet on that front ever since. The Plains Nations have backed down, and Jeremy's pretty sure they'll be suing for peace soon. The Rebels are the only problem, and they're getting smaller every day.
Jeremy pulls a bottle out of his pocket and stares at it, before sighing. This is one Christmas where he's not going to get drunk. He and Bass are—even if it kills him, and it probably will—going to spend Christmas together.
He slides off the sofa and sits next to Bass. He doesn't let his commanding officer complain when he takes the reports away and begins kissing his neck. It's Christmas Eve, and he will distract Bass by any means necessary. Bass responds, then stops. Jeremy hums in annoyance against Bass' neck, mentally planning how he'll have to dispose of the bodies if someone's interrupted.
"Merry Christmas," someone says. Jeremy can practically see the sardonic smirk in the man's voice. He looks around, eyes going wide.
Miles is standing in the doorway, dressed in layers. Snow is dusted on his shoulders. He has no weapons on—and Jeremy can detect concealed weapons after years of practice, even under layers.
"Truce?" Miles asks, hands up. Jeremy and Bass separate and look expectantly at Miles. He walks over to them, stripping layers off until he's in his pants and undershirt on the floor next to Bass and Jeremy. Jeremy thinks that maybe, this is the year things are going to go right again.
It's not Christmas without Miles, after all.
- o – o -
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