Holidays Under the Shadow
1300, December 24, 2046
Firmly knocking on the door with one hand and holding a shopping bag with the other, Connor Liang looked forward to seeing a special person again.
"Merry Christmas Eve, Arden," he said as the apartment door opened.
Arden hugged him fiercely, not even waiting for him to take off his jacket or put his bag down. "You need to be here more often," she said, pulling him inside.
"You know I do good out there." Arden looked like she was about to slap him before Liang hurriedly spoke again. "But this is better," he placated her, putting aside his boots.
Arden, satisfied, walked back to the kitchen. "I made noodles with eggs for you. Real eggs, mind you, not powdered."
"You're spoiling me. What's the catch?"
"Whatever's in the bag. I never waited for Christmas morning to open my presents and I'm not waiting now."
"What did your parents say about that?" Liang chuckled as he handed her the bag, a large gift-wrapped package inside.
"I blamed it on my brother and they never found out." Arden replied as she tore open the wrapping paper and unveiled a small urban-camouflage hiking backpack, stamped with the ZOCOM lightning eagle. She immediately pulled it on herself, getting a feel.
"It's great, but where did you get this from?" she said. "A surplus store?"
"I did, but you should check the pockets too."
She did, and found two sterling silver earrings, a broad smile coming to her face.
"Straight from the Red Zone," Liang explained. "We reclaimed a former silver mine."
"So this is how GDI will solve its budget issues?"
"Maybe. Why don't you try them?"
Arden reached for them, but then she frowned, and put them aside.
"You hate Tiberium," she stated.
"Yes?"
"Why make something from it? Does that bother you at all?"
"Not this time. Because I'll do anything for the special people in my life, you being first and foremost." Liang declined to mention that every other ZOCOM officer in his battalion had some jewelry made for various purposes with that batch of silver-rich Tiberium, and it would have been odd to be left out.
"Okay." Arden put on the earrings, and twirled her head to give Liang a good look. They fit her better than he imagined, but he remembered her statement of fact: "You hate Tiberium". Which was true, entirely true. It had caused him so much agony. His hometown. His parents. Matilda. But here he was, gifting a former shard to his girlfriend, and hopefully future wife. They'd had a few conversations about the prospect. They were both in their thirties, and with the world largely devoid of Nod or mutant activity, well-settled into their careers. If he was willing to tell the truth to himself, all that was left was to ask. Willingness for truth aside, he couldn't afford a diamond ring. But a Refinery could produce all the right materials, and any GDI military workshop could put them together.
Perhaps next time he visited Arden, he'd have something more substantial than silver. While he wouldn't shed a tear when the last crystal of Tiberium broke down, if it gave him a way to move on, then he would take that chance.
He had to.
2200, December 25, 2033
"Merry Christmas, kiddo." Robert Parnell closed the door to his son's bedroom and turned to his wife with a naughty grin on his face. Even though they had plenty to drink already, she waved the suggestion off.
"You give me another 'kiddo' and my hair will be whiter than Santa's, Rob." Abigail was holding onto him to keep her balance but she sounded more stringent than usual. Alcohol did odd things to people, but Parnell, drunk as he were, was pretty sure it was supposed to reduce one's inhibitions. Alas, Abby was an enigma even after five years of marriage.
"Don't you still want a girl?" he asked.
"And take a fifty-fifty chance with you? Hah." She tried to kiss him on the cheek but pecked his chin instead. It was still a happy feeling. "You gamble too much. It's time I reined it in."
"It's only poker, Abby."
"Only poker? Don't bet you dare bet the TV again. I wouldn't count on Johnsrud to be so generous next time. You'd definitely take his TV if given the chance. Or car. Or life."
"Without a doubt. But I have to say, Allen owes me fifty, and it'll be one hundred the next time we meet."
She leaned past him a bit, stepping away from their son's bedroom. "Why are you so confident all the time, Robert?"
"Well, what would I do without confidence?"
"Something stupid, I bet."
"True. Let's go to bed."
As they settled into their queen-size bed, Abigail fell asleep almost immediately, giving Parnell some time to reflect on their raucous Christmas. First, the typical trying to hide excitement for presents - toy Titan and Wolverine walkers, naturally - he had bought for Thomas. It was hard to fake the "Oh look what Santa brought you!" and "You must have been on the nice list!" platitudes, but Thomas was too young to notice his acting. Perhaps next year he would muster more enthusiasm for Santa, or if not, break the bad news.
God, to think he didn't know if Thomas - or any other human - would be alive come 2030. He and Abby were delighted by their child, then were immediately filled with regret - had they really brought a baby into a doomed world projected to collapse within a few years? There was a precipitous drop in birth rates worldwide from 2027-29, a canyon that would be visible in demographic charts for decades. What kind of parents - nay, what kind of humans were they to defy the inevitable?
Then came the miracles from Dr. Bordeau's lab following the Firestorm Crisis, and the first reclamation efforts, and suddenly, there was a future for everyone. Thomas saw his second Christmas, third, and now fourth, and hopefully many more to come as the rest of the world sighed in relief.
Then, lunch with some old colleagues from his unit in TW2. Like him, most of them had settled down and started families. Among that group, Thomas had no peers his age - the demographic canyon rearing its head again - but it wouldn't be an issue for too long, with the baby boom ongoing in the newly designated "Blue Zones", coastal California included. Parnell could imagine what was being done across their apartment complex.
He had spent the afternoon helping Abby make their Christmas dinner, ate more than his share, and enjoyed some drinks with his wife during a Christmas movie before tucking Thomas in. And now he was here. Parnell put an arm around Abby's shoulder and sighed, a little bit of vaporous beer settling on her too.
All in all, a perfect Christmas. Granted, there were many things he had left to do. His imminent deployment to Brazil, for one. The Nod splinter groups fighting there needed to be taught tough love via 120mm shellfire. Once that country was pacificed, ideally by summer, he guessed Australia to be next. For all the good GDI's victory in the Second Tiberium War achieved, there was an incredible number of bushfire wars left. But those were tomorrow's problems. For now, he could smile upon his last conversation, and sleep well.
What would I do without confidence?
Something stupid.
Author's Note: Hello dear readers, and Merry Christmas! Here's a seasonal special for Under the Shadow; for all the trouble I put my characters through, I figured they deserve a happy holiday season.