Five Days Of Christmas (PG)
Warnings: PG for strong language and general bleakness.
A traditionally grim Christmas tale for you… in that it's grim to start with, but may get cheerier by the end. There are 5 stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. There are five Christmases in Farscape. Go figure.
This was written in a hurry to complete my Farscapeland Big Bang entry on Livejournal, and being a Christmas fic, is somewhat time sensitive. Hence no beta and also hence why I am posting it now before the Challenge has closed in FSL.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit.
Words: 4300
Dedication: Dedicated to my betas and feedbackers. Without you, I wouldn't be writing this stuff.
Denial:
Jack had to admit it: Suzy and Frank had pulled out all the stops this Christmas. They had asked both him and Olivia over to their place for Christmas and had not taken "no" for an answer when either he or Olivia had tried to find excuses not to go. The house, bedecked with flashing lights and with the normal decor hidden beneath a swathe of red, green and tinsel was a veritable Winter Wonderland. And, of course, they had laid on a fine spread of food and drink, everything you could possibly imagine and way more than four adults and one small child could ever hope to consume even if they got snowed in till February.
It didn't look like Suzy planned to allow any of them time or space to think about John's accident, earlier that year. To be honest, Jack was sort of grateful. He'd never been good at Christmas, it was always Leslie and the kids that ran Christmas in his family.
Leslie. Hmm, Jack mulled on her memory for a second too long. He'd never been good with grief, either, for that matter. Just like John, neither had coped well with her death, at least neither had coped in the manner expected of them by others. And now there was John, bringing the contrasts in the way he and the girls coped into sharp relief once again. Not that he could really believe John was gone. Sure, he wasn't here for Christmas, but it wasn't the first time and it sure wouldn't be the last.
Jack took a stiff drink and helped Bobby with making some sort of Lego contraption. Making stuff always made things better.
As they neared the end of one particular Lego project Jack looked up at a sudden commotion. Not that he didn't already know the source: Suzy blustered around her house like a Dervish, spraying out jollity and demands intended to keep everyone busy. It was as though she were trying to amuse them all to death.
Death. Such a bleak, final word, Jack mused once Suzy had busied herself through the room and back out to the kitchen. The word didn't suit John, not at all. It therefore followed that John could not be dead.
Another clatter of pans sounded from the kitchen, the sound cutting through the Christmasy music pouring, treacle-like, from the TV: Miracle on 34th Street was on again. At least Suzy seemed to be coping well, Jack thought as he spared a glance at Livvy, who was curled into a ball on the couch. Livvy's feet and hands were all tucked in tightly, as though she were protecting them. Or using them for protection. She was neither watching the TV nor truly engaged in the family festivities. Her puffy, red-rimmed eyes, unkempt hair and blotchy complexion spelled out, even to Jack, that she was not having a Jolly Old Time. She was obviously missing John, or at least showing it more than the rest of them. Jack was worried for her.
"You OK, Livvy?" Jack asked her, concern for his youngest etched on his furrowed brow.
Livvy wiped an eye and seemed to startle. "Oh… yeah, dad. I'm fine." She paused for a few moments and leaned forward, seemingly making a vast effort to engage with what Jack and Bobby were doing. A smile, forced and unnatural, made an appearance, struggling for ascendancy against watery eyes. "What are you two up to?"
"Making a spaceship, Auntie Liv," little Bobby answered with innocent enthusiasm. Father and daughter exchanged meaningful glances. Better that than voice words out loud. Jack was worried for a moment that she might break down completely, but she seemed to pull herself together.
Little Bobby wooshed the toy through the air in front of them, feigning preposterous acrobatics. Livvy bit her lip and seemed to shrink a little back into the sofa. "It's a spacefighter, Aunty." Bobby explained, making another pass with the shiny toy. It was black, red and gray, angular and as menacing as a few bits of Lego could be.
Livvy struggled to shake herself out of her mood a little. Suddenly, Bobby accidentally knocked the toy against a piece of furniture and it fragmented. A small, black Lego pilot tumbled out onto the carpet. For a moment Livvy and Jack exchanged a shocked look, but soon established that all was well, apart from one damaged space fighter.
"Trust John not to be here the one time he'd really be able to make himself useful," Livvy said with forced humour, running the backs of her hands across her nose and eyes, wiping away some of the tears that were forming there as she forced a happy smile onto her slightly blotchy features.
"Hm," Jack snorted in reply.
"OK everyone, all hands to serving stations!" Suzy called with exaggerated seasonal cheer from the kitchen doorway, oblivious to what had just happened. Livvy stood and offered a hand to help Jack up to his feet. As he stood Jack took one last look at the now-discarded toy.
"He'da really loved to have gotten his hands on a ship like that," he said quietly. "He'd be kicking himself if he knew what he was missing."
Anger:
Jack Crichton sat alone in his living room and stared at the TV. He wasn't really interested in the movie, he had put the cursed thing on merely as a distraction from his own tormented thoughts. But now he toyed with the idea of turning it off again, as the programming only threatened to upset him.
His brain had registered that the film he had been half watching was Miracle on 34th Street, but his heart didn't really care. It would take more than a miracle to brighten this Christmas.
A man really shouldn't outlive his kids. How the heck could John have done this to him, especially when John had known how hard Leslie's death had affected him?
This would be the second year that he and John had not sat down to watch this damn stupid movie whilst Christmas dinner over-cooked. Correction, this was the second year that they could not sit down together to watch it. They had thrown away plenty of opportunities for them to watch it together over the years, but this year, the fact was that the opportunity was lost, lost for good. It was out of both of their hands.
Maybe he should go out to the kitchen and give Livvy a hand? He knew that she had sent him in here to get out from under her feet while she did the cooking, but it didn't seem fair to leave her on her own in there. He knew she was only here with her old man because she had nowhere better to be this Christmas. Another boyfriend had left her just a few weeks ago. Or she'd left him, Jack wasn't entirely sure yet, but hoped to get it out of her later, over a drink or three. She was always cagey about talking about such things to him. Talking about relationships was Livvy and John's job in the Crichton family. Damn, why couldn't John be here? He'd have known what to say to her, known what she needed. He'd always been close to Livvy. Jack, on the other hand, was well aware that he rarely had a clue as to what he ought to do at a time like this.
The fact of the matter was that none of Livvy's boyfriends seemed to last these days. Either they couldn't live up to being in the shadow of Livvy's big brother or they gave up trying to.
Bastards.
A clatter of something dropping in the kitchen roused him from his angry reverie.
"Liv! You OK in there!" Jack shouted, already up from the couch and making for the door as fast as his old frame would carry him.
Livvy was standing, her back to him, in front of the open oven. Something large, brown and greasy lay on the floor in front of her and she was staring down at it. Her shoulders were shaking slightly but otherwise she seemed imobile.
"I dropped the stupid turkey…" Livvy sobbed as Jack came up behind her. "It just slipped…" Jack reached out an uncertain hand, then two, before easing her round into a hug.
"I miss him…" Livvy whispered after maybe half a minute had passed. "Why'd he have to…?" Her words trailed off as the absurdity of blaming John for something he had not intended caught up with her.
"Come sit down… you're in no state," Jack tried to soothe. Pausing only long enough to push the oven door shut he led her from the kitchen. At the door to the lounge he paused and turned his head, casting a brief glance backwards to the turkey, cooling on the floor. He shrugged and continued with Livvy into the next room. Turkey for two was a stupid idea anyway.
Bargaining:
Jack was on his own this Christmas: Suzy and her family were off in Europe, making out like their lives were some stupid Christmas comedy movie, he imagined. Liv, on the other hand, had been caught in the bad weather up North and had been unable to get home. Another trashy movie cliché, but this one was without the expected schmaltzy ending.
If only there was some way they could have John back, then things wouldn't be like this. But Jack knew it was never going to happen, of course.
It was over two years since John's accident now, and daily life for the Crichton family had largely returned to normal. Except at times like Christmas, of course. It was at these sort of family-focussed times that the loss and emptiness of losing both a wife and a son came home to Jack with a vengeance.
The enquiry into John's death had finally reported its findings in early December. It was a nice, thoughtful present from the IASA bureaucrats: a Happy Christmas to you, too, you bastards, he thought angrily.
He had had plenty of time to digest the report's findings. The enquiry had found that everyone and nobody was to blame, of course – which was just about the only thing Jack would have comfortably predicted from day one. That didn't mean that there hadn't been endless politicking and positioning by just about everyone involved, all of them trying to shift the subtle nuances of who had made which mistakes from one party to another. It was like a game of pass-the-nasty-parcel. John, as the only party not able to defend himself in person, had of course ended up with more censure than most, despite the attempts of some to defend him. Blame the dead: It was more convenient for everyone that way.
Not that Jack really cared what all of those damned desk-jockeys thought: John was still regarded by most, both by the public and by the people in the Administration that Jack regarded as worthy of respect, as having died some sort of hero. And when it came down to it, he'd happily trade anyone and everyone's positive views of John just to have his son back. After all, what anyone thought didn't really matter when it came right down to it. John was dead.
No amount of bargaining with bureaucrats or God could change that fact.
Jack flicked the TV on – maybe there would be something on to watch, to take his mind off John. Miracle On 34th Street… AGAIN! He flicked through the channels, pleading to God that there would be something on which he could lose himself in.
After an hour or so of grazing the TV channels he got up, went to the kitchen and grazed the fridge for a while instead.
There was no Christmas dinner cooking this year.
It just didn't seem worth going to the trouble just for himself.
Depression:
Jack had felt at a total loss to know what to do, think or feel since he had watched John climb into D'Argo's ship and fly up into the crisp, winter sky. He could scarcely believe it was still even Christmas day, far less that it was less than 24 hours since he had been happy and smiling in his own home, offering his family and visitors egg nog to get the festivities rolling.
Some festivities, he snorted to himself. At least one of his visitors had shown no interest at all in the egg nog.
Instead, they had brought the gift of death, destruction and causing his son to decide to leave Earth before the next day was out. John had been so upset about the whole thing he wouldn't even wait till after Christmas, never mind New Year.
Yep, the Grinch had well and truly stolen his Christmas this year. So much so that Jack and Livvy didn't even have a home left to go to once he she or it had been through.
John had tried to explain why he thought he had to leave Earth, and Jack had understood the points he had made. Understood, but not truly believed. Shortly after the dawn of a sleepless Christmas night, John had walked away from them all – family, friends, country and planet.
Jack just could not understand how all these things meant so little to John now that he could just walk away from them all without a backwards glance.
Jack could at least be grateful that one of the secret service agents had shown them a little sympathy, and taken him and Livvy round to stay at the Alien Mansion, rather than simply driven them to a motel. At first Jack had been grateful, but now, as the pair of them walked amongst the detritus left by the untimely departure of John's friends, he was not so sure. Almost everything he saw served to remind him that he had lost John once again.
Jack reverted to his military training: He and his daughter needed to identify their immediate needs and deal with those things first.
Jack was tired, cold, hungry and shaken…. He knew that Livvy must be the same. And yet he also knew neither of them were likely to be in the mood to sleep. They needed coffee, something to fill their stomachs and a long talk.
As the coffee brewed Jack took the opportunity to look around the kitchen. Now that the aliens had gone it was his first real chance to look at things more closely. Their visitors' sudden departure had left the kitchen well stocked with food. Even Rygel had been unable to carry everything comestible away. Jack sorted through a few items – mince pies – potato chips – a packet of cookies – and set them on a plate. Some Christmas dinner, he snorted to himself. If I get known for serving this up, no-one will ever come visiting again.
He finished making the coffee, setting the spoon down with a harsh clank on the now stark and empty counter. Lifting the two steaming mugs, he placed them on a tray with the food and carried it through to the living area. Livvy was waiting there, slumped on a sofa, picking through the items strewn across the coffee table: magazines, half-finished meals, a TV remote. The remote fell on the floor: No great loss if it stayed there. Jack could already guess what movie would be on TV. A glossy magazine with a picture of John and Aeryn on the front, along with a lurid, questioning headline. If he knew his daughter, and he did know his daughter, she was half-tidying as a displacement activity to try to forget, half-exploring trying to find something linked to John to help her remember. She stopped at the magazine and stared at it in obvious horror.
"You shouldn't go reading that junk," Jack remarked, desperate to more Livvy on from the magazine. He sighed with relief as his ploy seemed to work and she tossed it slightly away from her.
Jack set down the tray and silently offered his youngest daughter the plate of snacks. She put a minced pie on a plate, but did not eat it. She set the plate down as Jack blew on his coffee. She picked up her coffee and cradled it in her shaking hands whilst Jack nibbled on a cookie. She set the coffee down and stared at him with panda eyes.
"He'll be OK…" Jack began. The magazine made him think of Aeryn and the feelings she so obviously had for his son. That and the way that they had worked so well together to fight the Grinch. She'd be good for John – Jack only prayed that John would let her be good for him.
Jack set down his own coffee beside the tray. It was as well that he did, because a second later Livvy had scooted across to where he sat, thrown her arms round him and her head onto his chest and began to sob. Stiffly and slightly uncomfortably, but with as much tenderness as he could muster, he returned his grown-up daughter's embrace as she cried her eyes out on his lap.
"He'll be OK…" Jack repeated. It was all that he could think of to say right then.
Merry Frelling Christmas, Jack thought as he held Livvy, remembering that the alien woman, Aeryn Sun had remarked as much just after the Grinch had attacked, less than 24 hours previously.
Acceptance:
Jack had to admit it, the house was looking good this Christmas. The last of the builders had left six months ago, the press had been gone for even longer. Just like its two remaining occupants, the house had settled back into a nice, comfortable routine. The Christmas decorations just added to the homely feel.
Surprisingly, they'd managed to salvage quite a selection of the families Christmas memorabilia. It struck Jack as somewhat ironic that home-made trinkets seemed to have survived assault by alien monster and ray-guns better than much of the expensive fabric and furnishings. When they'd been dressing the tree this year Jack had joked about it endlessly, saying things like "They don't make things the way they used to," whilst Livvy indulged him with silent, weary smiles. It was a game he liked to imagine that they both liked to play.
Part of Jack felt sad that Livvy still didn't seem to have a steady enough boyfriend to merit her spending Christmas elsewhere, but another part of him was grateful for the company, especially seeing as Suzy and Frank seemed to be avoiding them this Christmas. He guessed that they still felt uncomfortable about the whole Alien Visitation TV show thing, although Jack couldn't really think why. They had all agreed to share the videotapes with the media, and so it was hardly Bobby, Suzy or Frank's fault if the media had then chosen to use those tapes in the way that they had. Jack had tried to smooth things over with Suzy a dozen times, but his message that it was not their fault didn't seem to stick. He'd have to call her again later, try a new tack. Maybe he should not even mention John, Aliens or video tapes? Yes, Jack thought, that was probably the best approach now. Let old wounds heal over in their own good time, stop picking at them.
Putting down the vegetable knife, Jack made a last inventory of the vegetables, which sat waiting patiently in pans of cold water on the hob, before checking on the contents of the oven. The turkey was coming along nicely, another hour and a half should do it. Potatoes, bacon, everything else, all looked under control. As he shut the oven door the sound of the TV from the next room seemed to go up a dozen decibels: What on Earth was Livvy watching, he wondered? Sounded like a soap opera. Something overly dramatic and overly emotional, that was for sure, from the muffled sounds filtering through to the kitchen.
He smiled at the thought that his daughters still thought him incapable of cooking a decent meal, despite all of the evidence to the contrary. Well, at least he could be grateful that Livvy had agreed to give him the benefit of the doubt today.
As Jack poured a couple of glasses of something fortifying, he found his thoughts turning to John. That was another thing to be grateful for: Even if he could not know for sure what John was up to now, at least he had good reason to believe that he was alive and well. And even if there was trouble out there, in the shape of the coming war John had talked about during his call from the moon, at least Jack didn't believe that John was dead. And, perhaps, things had turned out well for his son? He thought of Aeryn Sun and smiled as he put the top back on the bottle and set it down. He hoped that they had sorted out their problems and gotten together. There was no doubt in Jack's mind that she'd be good for him, alien or not. Hell, he hardly even thought of her as an alien.
He picked up the glasses and stepped towards the living room.
Jack stopped dead in his tracks two steps inside the lounge. His mind floundered, totally unable to compute what he was seeing. Livvy was sitting on the couch opposite the door, her face beaming as she bounced a toddler on her lap. In the blink of an eye a host of questions flooded Jack's brain: That kid hadn't been there when he'd gone out to the kitchen, had they? Was he losing his faculties, and had Livvy had a kid without him remembering? When had that happened? Maybe his eyesight was going? He was getting old, after all.
"Hey dad, say hello to little Dee," Olivia crowed, waving the child's hand for him.
Another hand appeared, an adult's, seemingly out of nowhere, from slightly behind him and snagged one of the glasses.
"Egg nog!" A familiar and jolly voice sounded from the direction the glass was being taken. "D'you want some, hon? You didn't get to try it last time."
A head of long, dark hair popped up from behind the other couch, next to the tree. It turned towards him and the egg nog thief. A familiar, female face split in a radiant, but slightly nervous, smile.
"I wouldn't Aeryn, it's foul," Livvy cackled without pausing in jiggling the toddler on her lap. By now John had walked far enough around for him also to be in Jack's line of sight. John lifted the glass and scowled at his sister. "If it was any good, we wouldn't just have it at Christmas." Livvy gave an exaggerated knowing wink and a chuckle. Aeryn cocked her head to one side as though trying to compute why humans would do something as strange as drink something at a feast if they didn't like the taste of it.
"Hey!" John protested. He nudged Jack with his elbow, and spared a momentary grin at the old man, but his attention was otherwise firmly on Livvy, Dee, and the woman now making her way round to join Livvy and the child on the sofa. "I happen to like it!"
"I don't know why we insist on having it every year," Livvy persisted as Aeryn settled beside her and joined in playing with the toddler. The child reached out his hands towards Aeryn and whooped with excitement as he clambered into the dark haired woman's arms. John slipped onto the sofa behind Aeryn, slipping an arm around her with easy familiarity, his hand coming to rest on her knee and his face half buried, nuzzling into her long, black hair, maybe making for her neck or ear.
"Family tradition?" suggested Jack, trying to ignore John's public display of affection and finally finding control over his vocal chords as his mind finally finished processing all of this new information.
"Well," Livvy replied as. "Maybe it's time we started some new family traditions. Aeryn…?"
"Hmm?" The Sebacean smiled uneasily as her name was called, apparently still not entirely comfortable that she was a member of the extended Crichton family.
"Do you want to watch a Christmas movie later, after we've eaten?" Livvy asked with a warm, welcoming chuckle. Jack groaned inwardly. He was not at all sure if he could sit through Miracle on 34th Street. "It's A Wonderful Life is on Channel 10 this afternoon."
"That'd be perfect," John replied happily.
"Fine," Aeryn acceded with a shrug and an arched eyebrow.
"And until dinner's ready, you can tell us all about what you've been up to this last year," Livvy suggested, nodding meaningfully at the wriggling child on Aeryn's lap. "As if we can't guess on our own."
John gave an embarrassed cough whilst Jack heaved a sigh of relief over the planned movie and how things had turned out in general. Without thinking about it Jack had already moved closer in order to kiss and embrace Aeryn and Little Dee.
As he settled back down on the other sofa with his egg nog, still unable to take his eyes off of Aeryn and Dee, Jack Crichton didn't see an alien woman anymore: all he saw was his daughter-in-law and his grandchild. And Jack Crichton was full to overflowing with the joys of Christmas.
The end, and a very Merry Christmas to all.