Christmas Dreams
Summary: Max is forced to think about the meaning of Christmas.
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: As I think you all know, I don't own 'em, nor do I claim to…Though anyone looking to give me a Christmas present can always slip a Logan clone under my tree, I won't mind! ;-)
Author's notes: Blame this piece of pure fluff on the fact that I've basically spent the past two full days cleaning house, cooking, and generally getting ready for the relatives invasion tomorrow! ;-) Needless to say, I'm in the Christmas spirit…And I apologize for the fact that this is far from my best piece of work, I'm feeling the need to get this little story hammered out before I get dragged into more chores and cooking by the Christmas Nazi (my mom), or have to get dressed for tonight's party. :-)
Also, I apologize for the fact that this hasn't been beta read yet, I decided to forgo that before posting, in an effort to actually get this story up before Christmas. :-)
Merry Christmas everyone! Happy Holidays!
*****
It was after 11 PM on Christmas Eve. Max wandered the almost-deserted streets of Seattle, wondering where she should go. About a half hour ago she had stormed out of Logan's penthouse, leaving him staring after her in befuddlement as she roared off on her motorcycle. Soon after she had ditched her bike and resorted to walking in an attempt to work out some of her anger.
As she walked, she contemplated the events of the evening.
It had all started out so simply. A few days ago, Logan had casually invited her to spend Christmas Eve with him. She had agreed; after all, it's not like she had anything else to do. Kendra was holed up with her newest boyfriend for the weekend, and Original Cindy and all of her other friends from Jam Pony were spending the holiday with their family and loved ones.
After getting off work early- Jam Pony had closed at three that afternoon to give its workers the evening off- Max had gone home to clean up a bit. She was unsure of what to wear, but wanted to dress a little more formally for the simple reason that she hardly ever had an excuse to dress up. After showering she finally came to a decision and slid into a pair of black leather pants and a red silk camisole.
Logan had told her to be at his place around six, so after dressing Max found herself with over an hour of time to waste. She killed another fifteen minutes by playing around with some new eye makeup that Kendra had gotten her, until she was satisfied with the results she saw in the mirror. After adding a touch of sheer red lip-gloss, and fluffing her hair, she looked at the clock.
Damn, still have another hour to kill…
She wasted the next hour puttering around the apartment, tidying up a little bit, and wrapping the soft black sweater she'd bought for Logan. It had been a little more expensive than she'd liked, but when she'd seen it she couldn't resist, it practically shouted "Logan!" at her.
Finally it was time for her to leave, so she hopped on her bike and sped over to his building.
She let herself into his penthouse, not bothering to knock. He hardly ever answered the door, anyway. Entering the dining room, she found the table set- with his best dishes, too!- and candles lit. Wine glasses were set out, and a bottle of something sat in a silver bucket of ice on the table, chilling. She didn't bother to check what vintage it was; instead she followed the noises that led into the kitchen.
She found him there, cleaning up a bit and putting the finishing touches on the meal. He had heard her approach, and as she entered the kitchen he turned to her with an adorable smile of welcome on his face.
Dinner had gone well, they had spent most of it idly talking about whatever struck their fancy, often resorting to jokes and good-humored teasing. It wasn't until she was helping him clear away the dishes, in preparation for dessert, that things started to go downhill.
He started by asking her what plans she had for the next day. Of course, when she said she didn't really have any plans, that she usually spent Christmas day alone, he had invited her to spend the day with him.
"No one should be alone on Christmas." His words still echoed in her head as she walked.
She had turned him down, saying that Christmas really wasn't her deal, and that she'd probably spoil his good mood, anyway. She had expected him to leave it at that, but had he? No, of course not.
He had kept trying to convince her, saying that since Kendra wasn't home, and therefore wouldn't be upset if Max didn't come home that night, she was welcome to spend the night in his guestroom so she wouldn't have to make the trip to and from her apartment more than necessary.
He used every weapon he had, from that pleading little smile he *knows* I usually can't resist, to comments on how he didn't want to be alone. He just wouldn't give up!
Finally, resenting the pressure he was putting on her, and resenting the fact that she really did want to say yes, she had stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door as she went.
So now she wandered the streets, once again alone.
Why was he so set on this idea of spending Christmas together? Wasn't Christmas Eve enough? He knows I'm not into the whole God thing, after all, it's kinda hard to believe in a divine being when I was made by another human. Which basically means that Christmas has no real meaning to me, no real significance. Honestly, I usually spend the day brooding; I'd just spoil his holiday if I had agreed to spend it with him.
Crossing a silent street, she spotted an old rocking chair sitting out in front of a small house. She smiled slightly, imagining a mother or grandmother rocking in the chair during the day, watching children playing out in the snow. Dusting a few flakes of snow off of the seat, she sat down, pulling her jacket tighter around her. She wasn't really cold; thanks to her Manticore background it took extreme temperatures for her to be affected either way. But still, the comforting warmth of her jacket was welcome as she stared off into space, thinking.
Besides, if I had spent Christmas with him, it would seem entirely too much like a…commitment, and he knows I can't afford to care that much about anyone.
A small voice in the back of her head warned her that it was too late; she already cared too much about a certain spiky-haired, blue-eyed man.
She continued to sit there, thinking about whatever flitted into her mind, until she finally dozed off, worn out by the range of emotions she'd gone through that day.
***
Some time later, Max realized that she was not alone. At her elbow stood an old woman, dressed in a warm gray cloak.
Realizing she finally had Max's attention, the old woman smiled. "Hello, Dear. Are you ready to go then?"
Max was confused. "Who are you? Go where? Did I miss something?" She sat up, brushing a soft dusting of snow off of her, and then stood up to stretch.
"You're dreaming, Dearie. I'm the Ghost of Christmas Past, I've come to show you what you've been missing over the years."
Still confused, Max struggled to be polite. This has gotta be the weirdest dream I've ever had, that's for sure! "I'm sorry, but I don't believe in God and Jesus and all of that."
"Honey, while that belief is the root of Christmas, that isn't all it signifies. Throughout the ages, Christmas has been a time to spend with your friends and family, with those you love. It's a time to be together and share, to enjoy good company. You've allowed your doubt of God to cloud your ability to enjoy the simpler pleasures of the holiday. Just because you don't believe, doesn't mean you can't spend a pleasant day with those you love." The woman took a step forward, taking hold of Max's hand. "Come, Dear, let us go, we don't have much time." So saying, she started to lead Max away.
Max stopped her, still slightly unsure of what was going on. "Are you sure this is a dream? I never dream, it's part of the Manticore training."
The old woman merely smiled, gesturing back towards the chair where Max had been sitting a moment before. Max turned, looking at the chair…and saw herself, still curled up in the comforting arms of the rocker, fast asleep. With a shrug and a mental "what the hell," Max allowed herself to be led away.
The woman walked down the street a ways, finally stopping in front of a wide window of a house. She passed her hand in front of it, then gestured for Max to look.
She did so, and instead of seeing the sleeping family or silent family room she expected, Max saw a scene from her own past. She was jolted back in time, to a memory long forgotten…
The small house was filled with bright colors and lights, with the happy sound of laughter and singing. A large tree sat in the middle of the room, presents heaped under it. The family, happy for one day out of the year, sat around the tree, talking and laughing as they unwrapped presents. A young Max sat huddled in one corner, refusing to join in the celebration with her foster family.
The picture in the window faded. Max turned to the woman, grief at the memory lingering on her face.
"I remember that day…I was so confused, I couldn't understand how Lucy could forgive or forget all of the stuff her father did to her…yet for one day, they were like any normal family, happy to be together." Her face darkened as she remembered another part of that long-ago day. "Of course, her father caught hold of me later that night and tried to beat me for not 'having any Christmas spirit.'" With a sigh, she shrugged off the memory. "Ok, so what. I had a rough childhood. What's the point of remembering all of this?"
"You'll understand soon enough, Dear. Now I must go. Please stay here, in a few minutes he will be here." Before Max could ask who "he" was, the old woman simply disappeared.
She debated for a few minutes, finally deciding that she might as well see this kooky dream through to the end.
After a few moments she felt a breeze pick up, blowing flurries of snow down the street. Suddenly a middle-aged man appeared at her side, startling her. He was going slightly gray at the temples, and wore a conservative suit and tie.
"Hello Max. I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present. Please look in the window again." He was all business as he repeated the old woman's gesture in front of the window, and then nodded for her to look in.
Max did as she was told, and saw…
Logan sat in his wheelchair in front of one of his wide windows, staring out into the night. His expression was sad as he sat silently, thinking about what had happened earlier in the evening.
She felt the stab of guilt for the grief she'd obviously caused him, and turned away from the window. "All right, so I owe him an apology. I'll get around to it, I promise." She didn't bother to hide her resentment towards the man, she hated feeling guilty, no matter how deserved it was.
The man shook his head. "That's not all. Look closer."
With a disgruntled sigh, Max stared back into the window. It took her a moment to get past the sad image of Logan, but finally she managed to.
A large Christmas tree stood in one corner, bright ornaments scattered over the nearby tables and floor. He'd even put a few on the branches, before becoming so upset that he'd given up. The box she'd wrapped earlier that evening, containing his sweater, sat on a small table, and next to it was a small box wrapped in shiny silver paper.
Sensing her attention on the presents, the man zoomed in, giving her a good look at the gift tag on the smaller one.
"Merry Christmas, Max.
Love, Logan"
Desperately, Max found herself fighting tears. What the hell is this? I *never* cry! She looked back to the man.
He smiled kindly at her. "Why do you fight it? What harm could there be in spending a day with a friend who obviously cares about you, in creating a special memory to be treasured by both of you?" A slightly puzzled look crossed his face as he became frustrated by her silence. "Max, it's not like he's asking for your pledge of undying love, or for you to be the mother of his children. For God's sake, all he's asking is for you to share Christmas day with him!"
She brushed away the single tear that had managed to escape her control, and nodded. "I know. I acted unfairly. I'll go back now, talk to him, explain the way I acted." She stepped away, ready to head off into the night, but was stopped by his hand on her arm.
"Not yet, we're not done. Stay here; the final ghost will be with you shortly." With those parting words, the Ghost of Christmas Present disappeared.
A few moments, and another burst of wind later, and the Ghost of Christmas Future appeared next to her. This ghost took the form of a handsome young man, about Max's age. He had sun-streaked blond hair and green eyes, and was dressed in faded jeans, a worn green T-shirt, battered leather jacket, and scuffed work boots.
He surveyed her from head to foot, before meeting her slightly amused gaze. At her raised eyebrow, he shot her a charming grin, and shrugged. "What, it's not every day I get to escort such a beautiful young woman through the future! Most of the people I help are old people who have given up hope; bitter with the suffering they've had to endure over the years." He gestured towards the window. "C'mon, let's get this show on the road so you can get home and patch things up with your man."
"He's not 'my man,' he's just a good friend." Her face flushed slightly at what he was implying.
"Me thinks the lady doth protest too much!" He grinned and shot her a wink. "Anyway, look in the window again."
For the final time, she did as she was told…and saw her own grave.
The grave was fresh, the dirt still a mound over the coffin contained within. A simple stone marker stood at the head of the grave, stating plainly, "Max Guevara." Nothing else was inscribed on the tombstone. No flowers or mementos adorned the grave. The scene sped through the changing seasons of a full year, and not once did a single person come to visit the lone grave.
Max was jolted back to reality as the scene finally faded. "It looks so…lonely."
The handsome ghost nodded in agreement. "That's what your life is destined to be- lonely. Unless you learn to open up to your friends. You've got a wonderful man who greatly cares about you, and who wants to share the holiday with you. Yet you continue to push him away, reject his advances of a deeper friendship. Do you really want to be alone?"
She shook her head. "No."
The ghost smiled, pleased with her response. "Then go, apologize and explain why you acted the way you did."
Max turned away, about to head of to Logan's, when his next comment stopped her.
"Max…Merry Christmas."
She smiled. "Thank you."
She turned away again and started walking…
***
Max woke with a start. She rubbed her eyes, trying to clear away the haziness of sleep. "What the…" In a rush, the details of her dream came back to her, and she sat for a minute, absorbing them all.
After a few moments she stood up, again dusting the snow off her, and headed off towards Logan's.
***
Max hesitated in front of the door to Logan's penthouse, gathering her courage for what was to come. She hated apologizing. With a mental sigh, she pushed open the door and slipped inside.
She walked down the hall, following the only source of light found in the apartment. She paused in the doorway, seeing Logan still sitting in his wheelchair, staring unseeingly out the window.
"Logan." Her voice was soft, slightly unsure.
After a moment he turned to face her, saying nothing.
"Logan, I'm…I'm sorry. I overreacted earlier." She took a few steps closer, then stopped, off balance from his lack of response. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "I was confused by the conflicting emotions inside me, and I vented that confusion out at you. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."
He remained silent, and Max started to prowl around the room. "When you asked me to spend Christmas with you, a part of me was saying, 'no, don't, you don't believe in Christmas, remember?' But another part of me wanted to say yes." She turned back to face him. Her voice was hesitant as she finally continued. "If your offer of spending Christmas together is still open, I'd love to…"
Her doubt was erased as Logan smiled warmly at her, and held out his hand. She approached, taking his offered hand…only to find herself being pulled down in a brief, but tight, hug.
"Merry Christmas, Max."
She returned the hug before straightening. "Merry Christmas, Logan."
He grinned again, and began wheeling himself towards the kitchen. "I need fudge. Want some?"
Max found herself laughing at his friendly offer, as she eagerly followed him into the kitchen.
All was forgiven, and that Christmas was one they both remembered for a long time to come.