A little later than I had hoped, here is my fic offering for Christmas 2018. (So, belatedly, merry Christmas!) It's my first time writing Alicia and Ethan so I do hope it reads alright (it's not a particularly romantic fic for obvious reasons but it still seems odd for me to be writing different characters!) I hope you enjoy it, please leave me a review and let me know what you think x
It was Christmas Eve, although to Alicia it didn't feel like it. How The Grinch Stole Christmas was playing on Ethan's TV and she was trying so hard to concentrate on it. Her mind had other ideas though. While she tried to let herself be absorbed by the quaint goings-on of Whoville, and more importantly to let herself be caught up in the kindness that led her to be here at all, the fact of the matter was that she just couldn't. It didn't matter that Ethan's house was cosy, warm and safe, with twinkling lights and a real tree decorated to rival something from a catalogue. Christmas wasn't coming easily to her this year, even on December 24th.
One evening in early December, Ethan overheard a conversation between Connie and Alicia that changed his outlook on the festive season that he'd been dreading so much.
"Alicia, if you're not coping –"
"I am coping, I promise," the younger woman insisted.
"I'm just saying, there are other ways of dealing with this, than throwing yourself into the Christmas rota."
Connie was trying to be diplomatic, Ethan could hear as much from his position (backed against a wall around a corner from where Connie and Alicia stood) but he also detected an undercurrent of worry. And it was one that he shared. Anyone who didn't worry at all for Alicia at present had to be a monster, but Ethan would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he cared deeply about her.
"Mrs Beauchamp," Alicia said, lowering her voice so that Ethan had to strain his ears to keep up with the exchange. "I'll be alright. I just can't stand to be in that house all day, not at Christmas. Everyone's going home for Christmas and I'm not happy to play Home Alone, if all I'll be able to think of, is..." She stopped.
There was a pause, in which Ethan hoped that Connie had sighed sympathetically and reached out to put a nurturing hand on Alicia's arm. He himself had bowed his head at Alicia's words, weighed down with guilt that he hadn't done more at the time. The what ifs would kill you, he knew, but he couldn't stop himself wondering sometimes, how different things might have been.
"Alright," the Clinical Lead conceded. "Alright. But no matter what, my office door is always open to you. And over Christmas, if I'm not around, my phone will be on, hm? Please don't battle on and suffer in silence, if you need someone to talk to."
As Alicia tuned her mind in to tiny Cindy Lou Who singing her mournful song, she was powerless to the tears sliding down her cheeks.
Where are you Christmas? Why can't I find you? Why have you gone away? My world is changing, I'm re-arranging, does that mean Christmas changes too?
Where are you Christmas? Do you remember, the girl you used to know? You and I were so carefree, now nothing's easy, did Christmas change or just me?
It stung and pained her that the lyrics rang so true – Alicia's world had changed too and it was so difficult when everyone around her (well, nearly everyone) was rightfully wrapped up in Christmas cheer whereas she couldn't hold onto or even catch the usual joy of the season. And it still stirred anger within her, even now, that one man had been able to destroy everything so completely, even robbing her of her usual feelings towards her favourite time of year.
A painful lump formed in her throat and Alicia impulsively covered her mouth with one hand, to stifle her upset. Trying to hold it together for Ethan's sake was not going well: her shoulders trembled and it was no good trying to hide anyway. In an instant he was beside her, respectfully distant from where she sat but nonetheless caringly close.
"I'm s-sorry," she stammered, before he'd even had chance to open his mouth. "I know it's C-christmas eve and – and I should be happy –"
"Let me stop you there," Ethan said quietly. He reached out a hand to hold hers, hovering for a moment until she nodded to let him know that was okay, before gently squeezing her hand. "It's Christmas Eve, but that means exactly nothing in terms of how you should or shouldn't feel. Leesh, you've got to stop beating yourself up for what you perceive to be your failings but what are actually your greatest achievements. I know you don't see it but you've come so, so far in these last seven months. Granted, some truly awful things happened to you but you're still here, you're still fighting back every day – and you've still got it in you to give something back by working today and tomorrow when everyone would understand if you just wanted to give in to it all."
Alicia sniffed, and reluctantly pulled her hand free of Ethan's to wipe both eyes. Her cheeks were slippery from the tears, and she could hardly catch a breath to coherently express quite how much Ethan's words meant to her. When she couldn't believe in herself, he always managed to believe in her instead, and do his level best to make her believe too.
It was the most natural thing in the world for her to shuffle along the sofa a little and lean against him: she didn't know how much Ethan recognised this as a monumental change. He reflected even on the last fortnight, when she almost didn't trust him enough to consent to staying at his house for Christmas. In those terms, she was winning an awful lot of internal battles this Christmas Eve.
It hadn't been a surprise in the least, to see Alicia's name appear alongside his on the rota for Christmas shifts: finishing late in the afternoon on both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. It was the week before Christmas, however, when Ethan plucked up the courage to do anything about it, even though he'd known exactly what he planned to do, from the moment he'd overheard Connie and Alicia talking about the rota.
"Leesh?" They were alone in the staffroom, so he was not afraid to use the affectionate nickname that she'd slowly accepted his usage of.
"Yeah?" she said, looking up from her coffee with a degree of suspicion.
Ethan wished there was something he could do about that seemingly omnipresent fear in her eyes. She eyed everyone with a slight air of concern now, as though she was trying to work them out completely and entirely before entering any exchange with them at all. It was understandable of course, but nonetheless not easy to deal with. "You're working Christmas, aren't you? Same as me?" He knew her answer, of course.
Alicia's shoulders sagged, not wanting to have the same conversation with well-meaning Ethan that she'd had with Connie. "I am," she replied quietly.
Ethan nodded, hoping to seem more understanding than patronising. He knew first-hand how difficult this festive period could be, although for him it was for very different reasons. "I was just thinking… Come and stay with me for Christmas? I've just got an empty house, I mean I don't know about everyone you're sharing with –"
"– they're going home, properly home," Alicia said quickly, "but you don't have to do this, you don't want me around. I'm..."
It was hard to put into words. Her heart had flown at Ethan's kind offer, but she'd be no fun to have around at Christmas. She didn't know when she'd ever be able to trust a man so implicitly as to stay in the same house when there was no-one else around. Even Ethan, whom she knew could never be anything like that monster Eddie McAllister. At Christmastime, everyone was meant to be cheerful and merry. She just couldn't fit those descriptors, even if she tried.
"There's no pressure on you at all," Ethan went on. "I'm sure more than anyone you just need a quiet one, and… and I'd be happier if I knew you weren't struggling on by yourself. Just a quiet Christmas, us two between shifts and that'd be it."
"I'd be a wet blanket, Ethan. I'm – I'm not feeling very Christmassy, that's all." She frowned sadly, pursing her lips a little and looking away from him.
Ethan reached for her hand without thinking first and felt immediately guilty when she recoiled away from him. "Oops, I'm sorry, I didn't mean – look, I really do mean it. You wouldn't be a wet blanket, I promise you. I don't – Christmas hasn't been my favourite time of year either. I know it's nothing like what happened to you, but it's still not been easy, without Cal. He absolutely lived for all of this." He bit his lip, full of reproach for his actions. He hadn't wanted to overshadow Alicia's still-raw feelings, but it was difficult when it came to talking about his brother.
It was an enormous surprise when Alicia tentatively reached out and touched his arm in a gesture of comfort. "If neither of us are feeling Christmassy, let's just pull through it together, eh?" She gave him a tiny smile.
Ethan nodded, silently pleased at the outcome of the conversation while pulling himself back from the brink of being upset about Cal.
When the film stopped for an ad break, Ethan stood up and passed Alicia the box of tissues from the coffee table.
"I'm making hot chocolate, do you want one?" he asked.
Alicia rubbed her eyes before replying. "Um, yeah, go on then. Thank you," she added, smiling a little.
Ethan's heart lifted on seeing Alicia's eyes light up with innocent joy upon his return.
She couldn't help herself smiling, and even laughing a little at the sight of Ethan carrying two cups practically overflowing with hot chocolate topped with whipped cream, little marshmallows and chocolate sprinkles.
"Watch out there Ethan," she said with faint amusement, "Did you want hot chocolate with all that Christmas cheer?"
He shrugged, passing her a cup as he sat down and taking a long drink from his own.
A messy cream moustache was left on his top lip and Alicia rolled her eyes before sipping her own drink and delicately licking her lip afterwards.
There was a lull between the ending of The Grinch and choosing the next film – Alicia eventually insisted upon Miracle on 34th Street as it was a childhood favourite of hers – during which Ethan had a brief internal battle over what to do in this last couple of hours before bed that might ease some of his friend's anxieties while also helping her feel a little more in the Christmas spirit. The idea finally hit him and he made a beeline for the kitchen.
"What on earth are you up to now?" Alicia called out to him with a curious but genuine smile. There was no reply but after a few minutes she heard the unmistakeable sound of popcorn exploding in a saucepan. For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to relax, sinking back into the sofa cushions and concentrating on the film while not worrying about anything else. Her eyes closed for a few moments and despite the Christmas film in the background and the gentle sound of popcorn popping in the kitchen, she drifted off to sleep.
Her eyes opened slowly as she woke up. Embarrassed, Alicia yawned and stretched.
"Sorry," she mumbled, shaking her head and looking at the clock. "How long…?"
Ethan smiled warmly over the bowl of popcorn. "It's alright, you've only been asleep about twenty minutes. You've nothing to apologise for, honestly."
Alicia looked embarrassed. Her cheeks coloured slightly. She looked back to the film for a minute, working out what had happened while she hadn't been concentrating. Her lips turned gently upwards as the kindly department store Santa Claus took a deaf girl onto his lap and began conversing with her in fluent American Sign Language.
Her eyes were trained on the screen, but she could hear a strange crunching noise coming from Ethan and the popcorn – strange because it didn't sound anything like he was eating it. And when she finally looked, her eyes widened before crinkling with amusement. The popcorn was in three colours: plain, red and green. Ethan was carefully threading the popped kernels with a needle onto a long thread; although she'd never seen this done before, Alicia had to admit that it was very pretty, and very Christmassy. She watched on with great interest, until Ethan looked up again.
"You must think I'm mad," he said, mildly embarrassed, "making decorations on Christmas Eve. It's just… well, it's sort of a special thing for me to do, they've got a bit of a story behind them." He looked down and for a second he closed his eyes before sitting back up straight as if everything was normal.
"I don't think you're mad," Alicia replied. "I'm not sure I'm in any position to cast aspersions on your appreciation of Christmas, this year!" She let out a syllable of laughter, leaving unsaid that she wouldn't have really celebrated at all, left to her own devices. "What's the story, then?" she asked gently.
Ethan sighed. He ran his hand along the string of popcorn he'd already created, immaculate in its pattern and even threading. "When I was… eight, I think, I caught the flu, right before Christmas. I'd never been so poorly; I missed nearly three weeks of school, which included every single bit of festivity."
Alicia winced. "Ugh, that's harsh. So where does the popcorn fit in?"
"Cal," Ethan said simply, a wistful smile on his lips. "He was two years above me at school, and he took it upon himself to find out what my class had done in the run-up to Christmas. On Christmas Eve, I was finally feeling better, and I got up that morning to find that he'd badgered our mother into buying popcorn and preparing it exactly as my teacher had done, with the colours as well. We sat all afternoon, watching cartoons and threading up a mountain of popcorn, until we had enough strings to drape around the tree, along the mantelpiece and to wind up the bannister on the stairs as well. It became a normal Christmas thing to do in our house, and we did it a few times as adults too, just to keep it alive. I didn't do any last year, after… well, you know." He paused, looking meaningfully at Alicia, whose expression was solemn where it had previously been warm and hopeful. "But it feels right to do it this year again, and I thought you might like the distraction. It's not difficult, but it keeps your mind busy, and I thought that might be what you need. A quiet Christmas is all well and good, but not if you're still conquered by the darkness."
He pressed his lips together and held out the bowl to Alicia.
She took a deep breath through her nose and looked at the ceiling. She'd thought that Ethan's invitation not to spend Christmas alone was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her. But his thoughtful consideration of what she really needed from the peace and quiet had blown her away – not to mention his including her in what was obviously a very personal Christmas memory. She slid down from the sofa and sat cross-legged next to him on the floor, accepting a needle and cotton when it was passed her way.
The whole affair was wonderfully distracting: they sat until the end of the film making garlands to drape around the room, sometimes comfortably silent and at other times mindlessly chatting, which was healing in itself.
At bedtime, Alicia wanted to make sure she properly expressed how much the evening had meant to her. She and Ethan stood on the landing between their rooms for a moment, and her heart thudded in her chest. She was nervous, initiating contact like this. But this is Ethan, she told herself, you are safe. It was this silent internal talking-to that allowed her to hug him. It felt good to be hugged back and to truly recognise that things were alright here.
"Thank you so much, for tonight," she said gratefully when they'd stood apart again. "And thank you for… all of this, for having me here for Christmas. It's… it wasn't what I was expecting from this year at all, it's been so much better. You've made me feel better. Thank you," she repeated, hoping he understood that those two little words did not do justice to how he'd made her feel.
Ethan smiled. "You're welcome. I'm glad I could help even a little, that's all I wanted to do, just make it a bit easier on you. You deserve that much, and more."
Alicia clasped her hands in front of her. Her immediate impulse was to say that she didn't deserve anything like that. But she knew Ethan would contest her immediately, so she pushed the thought away. Maybe her wasn't an accurate thought, anyway. Just maybe. "Merry Christmas, Ethan. Good night."
"Good night yourself," he replied. He hoped he wouldn't be overstepping a mark, but he took a step forward and lightly kissed her forehead. "Merry Christmas."
Alicia smiled, a genuine one that had surfaced rarely over the last year. Maybe this Christmas wouldn't be so bad.
They both slept easily that night, neither one bothered by the shadows of traumas past. Christmas had come, at last. Not a moment too soon.