A New Beginning

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Christmas is a hard time of year for Mike Slattery but Maddie Rawlings has a surprise that she hopes will cheer him up. Set post-season 5. Written for the 2021 TLS Holiday Fest. Installment 8 of the Holiday Card Series.

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"I'm home!" Maddie called as she bustled into the kitchen, depositing the grocery bags that she was carrying on the table. Although there was another week until Christmas, Maddie was unwilling to wait until the last minute to begin her preparations given the constant supply issues that plagued the base. Rota might be back to normal operations, for the most part, but the world was still recovering from both the Red Rust and the war between the Americas and shortages of pretty much everything were common. "I found that port cheese you like. I got all three that were left."

There was no answer from the den, despite Mike having confirmed by text thirty minutes before that he was home for the night. Assuming he was in the bathroom, Maddie continued to put her purchases away and then flipped through the mail, taking time to study each of the holiday cards that arrived. This was the first year that Mike and Maddie sent out a joint card, having previously elected to keep their relationship as private as possible. But, as Mike pointed out when he broached the idea, it really was a pain in the ass to address two cards to the same person every year.

It wasn't until her stomach rumbled that Maddie realized almost twenty minutes had passed. She set down the magazine that she was perusing, wondering what in the world Mike was doing. She moved into the den but, other than the flickering white lights on the tabletop Christmas tree they set up last weekend, the room was devoid of life. Same with the dining room, the small study, and the master bedroom. It wasn't until she noticed a light in the guest room that Maddie even thought to look. Pushing open the door, she was greeted by an explosion of Christmas. Garland and tinsel and ornaments and wrapping paper covered almost every inch of the room. Mike stood at the window, his back to the gaiety that surrounded him.

Maddie moved forward, only noticing when she stepped over a stocking that there was a name embroidered across the top. Lucas. She touched Mike's arm. "You decided to go through the boxes?"

Mike shrugged. "It's ridiculous to have them pilled in here. When Joni comes to visit, she won't have anywhere to sleep."

Joni, Maddie's longtime co-pilot and best friend, would have had no issue sleeping on the couch but Maddie knew that wasn't the point. After selling his house in Norfolk, Mike had simply packed everything up and deposited it in a local storage unit. But when the invoice arrived this past summer, rather than pay for another year of storage, Mike asked for everything to be sent to Spain. Maddie had been completely unprepared the first time she came home to find boxes stacked from one side of the house to the other, but Mike was able to go through the bulk of them fairly quickly. When Mike told her that he simply packed up everything, Maddie hadn't realized he meant it literally until she opened a box full of eight-year-old cereal and spaghetti noodles. Disposing of that type of thing — as well as kitchen utensils and moth eaten linens — was relatively easy. Then there were the items that moved to a more permanent location, like the photo albums that now occupied two full shelves of the built-in bookcases in the office. But a number of boxes had remained, untouched, for the last several months stacked in the guest room.

Until tonight, apparently.

Maddie glanced around the room. The large, artificial Christmas tree was now more of a rust color and the popcorn strings had definitely seen better days, but some of the handmade items appeared salvageable. "Do you want to hang up some of the ornaments?"

"No." Mike's voice was low. "Most of it is trash at this point. Some of the lights are over twenty years old. And half the decorations are broken anyway. Christine used to pack them that way. She said there was no point fixing them when chances were that a bunch would get broken before we needed them again anyway. Thanksgiving night we would open up all the boxes and I would hot glue gun everything together so the kids could decorate the tree the next day."

There was something so despondent in his voice that Maddie took a closer look at the decorations, searching for something that they might be able to use. But everything was scattered randomly and Maddie wasn't sure what some of it was. Unlike Mike, prior to the Red Flu hitting, Maddie was single with no dependents. Ironically, volunteering for the "high risk" task of ferrying supplies from the base to the cruise ships off the California shoreline was what saved Maddie's life. Her team was in the process of delivering supplies to the USS Miteria when the base was exposed and placed in lockdown, stranding them on one of the few destroyers to safely ride out the virus.

Maddie was considering leaving, letting Mike have some time alone, when her stomach rumbled. Mike turned, wrapping his arms around her. "Sorry I didn't get dinner started. I didn't plan to start this tonight but then I walked by the door and..."

"You don't have to apologize, Mike," Maddie replied, tipping her head so she could look up at him. "I know how much you loved them. I'm not trying to erase that part of your life."

Mike's eyes closed. "I used to love celebrating Christmas. It didn't matter if I was shipping out a day later or if Christine and I had been fighting or if Lucas was driving us all crazy running around and breaking stuff, Christmas was always special."

Blinking away tears, Maddie leaned into his chest. "Sometimes, when you tell stories, I feel like I know them. I can picture it. The five of you sitting around a tree, surrounded by shredded wrapping paper, laughing at some silly gift. I wish that I could give you back those moments."

Mike frowned. "You know how happy I am with you, right? I miss them. Today maybe a little more than usual. But that doesn't mean I don't love you. Or that I'm not happy with our life."

Maddie forced a smile. Yes, there were times when it was hard knowing how much Mike missed his family. Realizing that, without the Red Flu, she and Mike would never have come to be. But over the past few years, Maddie had realized that such thoughts were pointless. The past was the past and nothing could change it. The only choice was to accept that and move forward.

"I know." Maddie hesitated and then caught Mike's hand, tugging him towards the door. "Actually, I have something to give you. I was going to wait until tomorrow but I've changed my mind. I want you to see this tonight."

Tugging Mike down the hallway, Maddie entered their bedroom. She dropped his hand, gesturing him towards the bed while she opened the closet. Finding the tampon box that she used to store things she didn't want Mike to find, Maddie removed the small box wrapped in dark blue paper. Ignoring Mike's puzzled look, she passed him the box and then leaned back against the dresser, watching as he carefully undid the paper. Mike lifted the lid, then froze.

Maddie waited, counting the seconds. She had just reached ninety-four when Mike glanced up, his eyes now red-rimmed. "Are you sure?"

"I'll be eight weeks tomorrow," Maddie replied. She crossed the space, sitting next to Mike on the bed, her hand moving to cover his. "I'm due August first."

"August," Mike repeated. He lifted the small black-and-white picture from the box carefully. "It kind of looks like shrimp at this stage, doesn't it?"

Laughing, Maddie leaned her head against his shoulder. Tonight wasn't the first time that she found Mike mourning for the family — the life — that he lost to the Red Flu and it wouldn't be the last. But she hoped that tonight also gave him a glimpse of the future. One for them, together, as a family. "Yeah, it kind of does."

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A/N — this one went a little side-ways and doesn't really fit the theme but I'm leaving it in the collection anyway. Nobody tell... I have a few more holiday stories to post but they aren't quite ready so Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and see you all next week to those who don't! xoxo — tmtcltb