A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry it's taken so much longer than usual to update. If I'm being honest, I've been under the weather for the last few weeks, but it mostly comes down to me being very stressed about going back to school and just being very down in the dumps. I've worn myself out because of it and made myself physically sick. Which...boooooo. That's all I have to say about that. But also, if you're in the same boat, know that you're not alone. Take a minute to breathe and remember it'll get better.

It's been hard to write a sweet chapter like this. If you notice, I've added two one shots to my account, but those are just little drabbles that I didn't have to think much about. Which is what I love about writing...sometimes you can take your mind off things by writing drabbles like that, sometimes you can take your mind off things by writing in detail what hurts the most. Art is beautiful.

Hope you enjoy this chapter.

December 23, 1988 | Elizabeth

It isn't a far drive to Charlottesville Airport, but today it seems extra long. The line of cars strung down the highway for miles. Although the line seems to have no end, Elizabeth knows exactly where the holdup is: the airport. The ice on the road in this brisk, dark, early morning is playing one role in the string of cars, and the other role is that Christmas is only in two days. Many will be jetting off to visit their families in other states or go build sand-snowmen on the warm Florida beaches, but many are like her, too, picking family and friends up from the airport to link families back together for the holiday season. Some will be turning around the day after Christmas to take the traveler back to the airport, and some will be waiting until after the New Year.

Her elbow is leaned on the door, wedging it between the window and the plastic as her fingers are threaded in her hair, trying to will herself to stay awake. It's never easy to wake up at three-thirty in the morning, but it's much harder to stay awake when it's still pitch-black outside. And cold—so cold. She shudders as she feels the cold seep through her long sleeve shirt and into her skin, desperately wishing Will would've chosen a later flight. He didn't, though, and she's just glad he even agreed to come at all. He'd been so distant after finding out about their parents that she was afraid he'd make up some excuse about school, even though all the schools were obviously on break.

As she inches her foot off the brake, letting her car roll forward a little, she sighs and thinks back to when Will was young—when Elizabeth had just learned the secret of Christmas.

"Just because you know, now," her mother told her softly, "Doesn't mean you're allowed to tell Will. Would you have wanted the secret ruined for you?" she asked as she drove along.

Elizabeth looked down at the homework in her lap, sighing a little, "No." she said, just barely audible.

She felt like she'd just had the weight of the world put on her shoulders for her little brother. But also, she wished it was still her secret, too. She wished the kids at school never made her doubt. She wanted to feel the magic like she always had, but this year, she knew, it would be different.

When Christmas rolled around, Will did his usual routine of running to her room, then to their parents' room to wake everyone up around 5:30. "It's Christmas! Santa came!" He half-yelled, trying to not scare anyone but too excited to really be able to contain it in his seven-year-old body. Elizabeth groaned and rolled out of bed, but when she saw Will's face after walking downstairs, she decided then that there was no way she would ever ruin his excitement. Even at her ripe, young age of ten, she knew she'd been entrusted with something sacred to his childhood.

Now she smiles a little when she thinks about that year, knowing Will had been so excited because he had gotten some game he had been begging for. He even wrote to Santa five times, describing how good he'd been. She remembers that he had been good most of the year; however, not including the beginning of the year whenever he was playing with a baseball in the house even though he knew he wasn't supposed to.

She checks her watch when she sees the glow of the airport sign, finally coming into a good view of it all. His flight is supposed to land at four-thirty, and she just hopes that she can make it there and inside in fifteen minutes as to not cause a session of bickering with her little brother during this cheery season.

Hearing "Here Comes Santa Claus" come on the radio for the second time during this trip, she fumbles with the buttons on her radio to find another channel, trying to not flame over the fact that there are hundreds of Christmas songs and this is the one they all choose to play on repeat. She flips through the channels that are playing commercials or genres she doesn't listen to until she finally lands on another station, one that isn't playing Christmas songs, surprisingly, and she sticks with that one. "Straight Up" by Paula Abdul is playing, and she looks at the radio and squints, "What is this crap?" She mumbles, listening only a little longer before going back to the Christmas station. She's definitely more of a Guns N Roses gal than whatever that was.

When she finally pulls into a parking spot in the airport, she has about two minutes to spare until his flight is supposed to land. She looks up at the tiny, black computer screen with the white writing on it. Scanning through the various flights, she finds Will's and reads on to the right, seeing "ARRIVED" on the side. "Shit," she mumbles under her breath, rushing to his gate as quickly as possible.

"There's my big sister," Will says sarcastically, grabbing his suitcase and coat as he stands up.

She's catching her breath and shaking her head, her own coat draped over her arm as she stretches them out, "I'm not too late, am I?" She asks sheepishly, trying to not match his sarcasm.

He looks at the watch on his wrist, "Well, I've been to baggage claim, been sitting here for a while, listened to some guy tell me all about how he's here to visit his family. Claims that his Uncle Teddy is a senator. I've never heard of a 'Teddy.'" He says, using air quotes before going in for an awkward hug.

She takes a deep breath when he leans in, squeezing him tight and tucking her head into his neck. She wants to say I missed you, or I'm sorry for all the chaos last time you were here about Mom and Dad, or What the hell are our lives, even? But something he said finally sinks in, "Uncle Teddy?" She asks, forgetting to even follow up on his claim that he's been here for a while. Apparently his flight must have left earlier than expected—something rare in this holiday rush.

Will points over to someone who was sitting in the smoking section, "That's him." He says.

"Like, Ted Kennedy?"

Will shrugs, "How am I supposed to know?" He asks, "Who even is Ted Kennedy? Didn't he get shot?"

"William Adams," Elizabeth murmurs, trying to not take on the mom role of scolding him like she always has. He's almost an adult now. "You don't know who—you know what? Never mind. We're going to enjoy this Christmas. We're not going to fight."

"Right," Will says, and that sarcasm makes her grit her teeth. He rolls his suitcase along behind him as he goes to the exit, and she smirks behind him.

"Wrong way," she says, "I'm parked over here."

Will barely stops and just shifts his direction, not ever saying anything back to her. She sighs a little, "This'll be fun," she thinks to herself, trying to not roll her eyes as she watches him march along in front of her.

December 23, 1988 | Henry

"There you two are," he says as they come in the door, immediately going over to help Will with his stuff.

"Henry," Will says happily, giving him a hug.

Henry smiles and looks over at Elizabeth who is eyeing him from behind Will, giving him a look like she's going to cut his throat. Henry squints at her, looking confused, he's sure, but she just flails her arms in their direction. He shrugs and pats Will on the back, "You hungry?" He asks, "I was just about to make some pancakes."

"At this hour?" Will asks, looking at his watch.

Henry laughs a little, "Elizabeth always thinks she's stealthy when she leaves the house." He teases.

"I am!" Elizabeth cries out behind him, putting her keys in the dish by the door.

Henry smirks a little and raises his eyebrows at Will, "Sure she is." He says, "Go ahead and put your stuff in the garage—Mark and I have done some renovations in there to make it into a nice little second bedroom." He says. "Now you don't have to sleep on the couch anymore."

Will gives a sarcastic thumbs up, "So glad that I don't have to try to sleep on that thing anymore." He says, rolling his stuff in the garage.

"I'll make you some pancakes," Henry calls out as he shuts the door behind him to the garage.

Elizabeth looks at Henry and hits his chest, "What the hell?"

"What?" Henry asks, looking at her like she's a bomb that might explode soon. At this rate, the way she's been flailing and giving him the "look," she might actually explode soon. He has the feeling she might.

Her flailing arms finally stop and her hands land on her hips, hunching forward and sticking one foot out in front of her as she continues to stare into Henry, "The whole car ride here, I get the sarcastic, borderline-asshole remarks and he gets here and gives you a hug without even one prompt? A nice little 'Henry' when he walks in? What the hell?"

"Babe," Henry says, trying to stifle his laughs, "I'm not his sibling."

She lets out an ughhh noise and lets her head fall back, angrily pulling her hands from her hips and folding her arms underneath her chest, "I gave up the rest of my childhood for that boy and he can't even give me a decent hug," she mumbles.

Henry walks over and hugs her, kissing her on the neck, knowing the place it tickles so that she pulls her head upright. One more kiss to her forehead now that he has easy access, and then he smiles at her while he runs his hair through her hair and pushes it back from her face, "I didn't want to completely gross Will out, but," he bites his lip for a moment, waiting for her complete attention, "I wake up every time you leave our bed. And it's not just because you move it or anything, or that you're loud. It's nothing you physically do." He assures quietly, "My magnet is gone when you leave."

She narrows her eyes at him, scooting her arms from the folded position between his and her body and looping her thumbs in his belt loop, "What do you mean?" She asks softly.

"My magnet?" He asks and waits a beat before continuing, "It's what keeps me going, I think. What keeps me able to move and function. It's like…it's like I only have half of my heart when you're not there." He explains. "And when you leave, when that little magnetic wave is no longer there, I wake up because I feel like half of my heart is gone from my body."

She looks up at him and leans into his chest a little more, then finally gives in and lays her head above his heart, "You sure know how to make me feel better," she says, then stifles a giggle, "And feel a little horn—"

"Are those pancakes chocolate chip?" Will is saying as he walks in through the garage door.

Elizabeth pulls away from Henry like they'd just been caught having sex, and Henry thinks about that for a moment, laughing on the inside. He knows that she was thinking of sex, or at least he's got a pretty good idea that's what she was thinking of before Will interrupted. He looks over at Will, "I have some chocolate chips I can add in," he answers, "I always put them in Elizabeth's."

Will looks over at his sister and smiles, "Yeah, chocolate chips are good." He says.

"Did you guys always put them in your pancakes growing up?" Henry asks, walking into the kitchen and getting the pancake mix ingredients together.

The other two follow him in there and lean against the counter. As they start talking, he realizes that they're standing the exact same way—leaned over on their elbows, left hand folded into their right, and both of them are standing with most of their weight on their right leg. He notices that their left legs are just draped over the right one when he goes to the fridge, the bottom of their foot resting on the top of the other.

"I always did," Elizabeth answers Henry, then looks over at Will, "I guess Mom always did that for us, right?"

"Yeah," Will says and cracks a small smile, "Sometimes she'd put blueberries in too, but I really just liked the chocolate chips."

"Why ruin a good pancake with blueberries?" Elizabeth teases him.

"Something about us not getting enough fruits and vegetables in…" Will just shrugs, leaving it at that.

Henry smiles as he listens to the two of them, knowing this must be good for Elizabeth to have him here. He knows she's struggled with finding out about her parents and who they really were, and it must be good to have someone who feels the exact same betrayal—even if it was a secret that had to be kept in order to keep the two of them safely out of the web.

When Henry finishes making the pancakes, they all sit down and eat together at the table—now completely furnished with actual dining furniture since Elizabeth came into the money. At first, Henry had protested, but then he saw how happy it was making her to refurnish the things in their house, and it made him happier. It still hurt him sometimes that he couldn't do it for her, couldn't provide the money for her, but one day he'd be able to support her to the extent he wants. He hopes he will be able to, at least.

They'd finished their breakfasts just mere minutes ago, but Will had yawned approximately ten times since then. "Listen, guys, I hate to do this…" he starts.

Before he can finish his thought, Elizabeth cuts him off, "You look exhausted, Will," she says, and Henry picks up a motherly tone in there. It made his chest feel a little tight to think about how many years she's had to play mother to him. She's right, she did give up the rest of her childhood to try to give him some sort of mother figure, some sort of stability in the parental world. Did it work? Henry's not sure—Will seems to have turned out alright. He's still young, but he has big plans of becoming a doctor, and Henry thinks he'll set his mind to it and actually get it done. So maybe the sacrifice Elizabeth gave paid off for Will, and maybe he would've been like that even Elizabeth would've just stayed in her role as big sister. Who really can ever know?

"I am," Will admits, and Henry watches as Elizabeth's hand comes out from under the table and instinctively rubs his arm a little.

"Go get some sleep. Henry and I have some shopping to do anyway. Henry will have his pager on him," she instructs, standing up to grab a pen and paper and writing the code out, "Just beep us if you need anything, or if you want to go do anything after you get some rest, okay?"

Will smiles a little and leans over, giving his sister a kiss just above her ear, "Thanks sis," he says, taking the piece of paper with him as he stands and walks to his makeshift bedroom.

Henry watches as Elizabeth's gaze follows him all the way until Will shuts the door, and then she lets out a sigh, "Moments like that make the heartache worth it," she whispers.

He looks over at her and takes her hand in both of his, scooping one under and one over as he looks into her eyes, "What do you mean by that?" He asks, wanting just a little clarification.

She pulls her gaze from the closed garage door to Henry's eyes, cracking a tired smile herself. Henry wants to tell her just how much she looked like Will in that moment, too, but he decides to keep that secret for himself. She'd probably disagree anyway. "All the normal-teenager stuff I could have done as a kid instead of going home and making sure Will had dinner and had his homework finished and was in bed at a decent hour until we went to boarding school, and then the calling and checking in on him and making sure he was okay…" She shrugs, contorting her lips a little as she drops her eyes to their hands, "The moments I wanted to be big sister instead of mom, like the time he wanted me to help him with his math homework and I made him do the actual problems. I wouldn't really help him like he was wanting—it really wasn't 'help' per say, he wanted me to do it for him. And sometimes, before Mom and Dad died, I would've. But I felt like I had to teach him something then, so I made him do it. He got mad at me." She says softly, taking a deep breath as she still stares at their hands tangled together, "He yelled at me and told me I would never be Mom and I needed to stop acting like I was her."

"Babe…" Henry says, accidentally just blurting it out. That felt like a stab in his own heart to hear the pain in her voice when she spoke.

"I know," she says, looking up at him with glassy eyes filled with tears that won't fall, "But look at him. Top of his class, even though he thinks I don't know." She says, referring to the reports that she still gets from his school, "And accepted into John Hopkins…" She smiles a little and pulls her other hand out from under the table, laying it on top of his, "He worked hard, but I'm glad I pushed him to work hard like that."

Henry just stays quiet, giving her a little nod to acknowledge he was listening and there for her, but he truly didn't know what to say. He leans in and kisses her forehead, "You did amazing, Elizabeth," he whispers, "Being a mom figure at that age is hard, but you're right, he's going to go far." He says, "You should be proud, not just of him, but of you for being able to be there for him."

She nods a little and looks back down, pulling her hands out of his and resting both of them individually on his, "Let's go get some rest, yeah?" She asks.

December 23, 1988 | Elizabeth

"Will is literally just in the other room," Henry is saying to her, looking as though he's fighting back a bear.

Maybe she is a bear, she feels like one—maybe she's something more carnal right now. They'd been shopping all day and they were both worn out, but the eggnog lit her back up. "It's your fault," she mumbles, "It was the eggnog. I knew I shouldn't have drank any." She slurs, toppling over a little as she tries to grab at Henry's pants again.

He's laughing and sitting down on the bed behind him, steadying her by holding her sides and helping her down to the bed. "Henry," she breathes out, drunkenly straddling his hips, "I need you, and I need you right now. If you don't—"

"Shhh…" Henry hisses, and she wants to whine and stick her tongue out at him.

Deciding that she's drunk enough to not care, she sticks her tongue out anyway, "You're no fun," she pouts, but continues to roll her hips.

"Elizabeth…" Henry says uncomfortably.

"Do you not want to have sex with me? Christmas Eve sex? Drunken Christmas Eve sex?" She just keeps saying the same thing but changing it up little by little, "I feel like being a…" She pauses to giggle, her face getting hot as her hair falls in front of her vision.

"Don't say it…" Henry says, but he's laughing, too.

"…a hoe hoe hoe." She says, trying to use her deepest, best Santa voice that she can. She laughs a little more and almost uncontrollably smashes her lips down on his, causing him to groan and fall backwards. When he's down, he brings his hands to her waist, filling her hunger for his touch.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

Even in her drunkenness, she realizes that he's pretty sloshed, too. She wonders how much rum he put in the nog, but then happens to remember Will rummaging through the cabinet where they keep things like that. She squints a moment, knowing he probably spiked it way more than Henry ever would have, but she just shrugs it off. She can't stop herself now unless Henry absolutely told her no.

"I'm sure," Elizabeth says, still rolling her hips against his and creating a friction that she really didn't need created—there was enough tension as is.

Henry's hands are fumbling at the back of her bra, and finally he just takes her shirt off and rips the whole bra over her head. She laughs uncontrollably and then, embarrassed, puts a hand over her mouth before hiccupping. "That's a new way to do it," she says and looks over at the bra that he threw on their pillow.

He scoots them up the bed and rolls her to her back, his hands ravaging her entire body from the not-so-fired-up places to the very-fired-up places. She looks up at him and raises a brow seductively, or at least she thinks it's seductive (in truth, she just looks drunk). "You going to give me my Christmas wish and treat me like your hoe hoe hoe?" She asks and smirks, then her smirk turns to a giggle, and a giggle into another uncontrollable laugh.

She gets her answer, and her wish, all in one movement.

December 24, 1988 | Elizabeth

Her eyelids fly open and she looks at the ceiling briefly, but it feels like someone lit a flashlight in her eyes when she does. She closes them even quicker than she'd opened them, clenching them shut and groaning quietly. She decides to barely peek one open as she rolls over toward the clock on her nightstand, seeing that it was already 9:30. "Henry," she breathes, "Oh God, we have to leave to get to your mom's house."

"What?" Henry asks, trying to get his eyes to peel open, but he's obviously having trouble, too.

"It's 9:30," she says, but her head is throbbing so bad she's not even sure she got those few words out correctly. She raises her hand to her forehead, wondering briefly if the room is spinning or if that is just one of the world's worst hangovers.

She hears shuffling over there and rolls to look at him, just barely opening her eyes to see him still trying to open his own. "What the hell did we do last night?" He asks. "And are you sticky?"

"We drank eggnog." Elizabeth reminds, feeling as though she were going to hurl whenever she says that. She feels down her body and realizes that is a little sticky, but she can't bring herself to really think about that right now either—she's focusing on not hurling.

"No," Henry answers, looking at the Santa Claus hat on the bed. "That's what I'm talking about," he says and points.

She frowns, then is suddenly aware of something cutting into her legs. She raises the blankets to look down at her legs, finding her knee-high red and white striped socks. She'd worn these for a fundraiser for soccer one year, but she definitely had clothes on with them. Now, she's completely nude except those knee-high socks. "What the…" she mumbles, pulling her leg out from underneath the blanket to show Henry. When she lifts it, she gets a terrible pain in her leg, "Oh my God," she groans, hissing when a pain shoots through her lower back, "What did we do?"

He tries to roll on his side but makes a face that was similar to her own, "Ouch…" he breathes, grabbing his abdomen. "Whatever it was, it must've been amazing." He murmurs.

She rubs her head again and shuts her eyes, "Will…" she thinks out loud, "Will spiked the eggnog even more than you did, I bet you anything."

"You think?" Henry asks.

"I bet the little punk is laughing at us right now."

"Would he really do that?"

Elizabeth looks over at him and glares, "He's still my little brother, and he's still only seventeen years old. That's like asking if Shane would do that." She says, then Henry's face shapes into a look of "oh, you're right," and she just laughs a little, "Yeah, exactly." She says, laying her head back down and groaning a little too loudly.

"Glad to see you two are finally up and at 'em." Will says sarcastically from the couch, reading a book on something to do with sutures.

Elizabeth glares at him, maybe even snarls, and stops in her tracks, "You spiked it, didn't you?"

He smirks and turns back to his book, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Before she can move too far, Henry's grabbing her fists that are all balled up, readying herself to punch her brother at least in the shoulder. She looks back at her fiancé, also now wanting to hit him just a little, but then finally relaxes and takes a deep breath, deciding that it hurt her head to move that quickly anyway.

"My bag is packed and I'm all ready to go," Will says, "But you two, you might have some cleaning up to do."

Elizabeth looks down at her body, trying to see what he's talking about. She looks over at Henry who's doing the same thing, but she sees nothing wrong with him other than that he looks like he's massively hungover. "What are you talking about?" Elizabeth finally sputters.

Will tucks his bookmark into his book and sighs, but it turns into a laugh before he can even get it all the way out, "Come see," he says, walking into the kitchen.

Elizabeth looks at Henry as he walks up to her side, leery of what they're about to walk into. Will flips the kitchen light on and exposes a kitchen counter full of what she thinks is flour at first, but then sees the empty bag of what was once powdered sugar on the floor and realizes that is why they were both sticky. "Oh no," she says, not even wanting to look for further damning evidence.

"Oh yes," Will says smugly, walking over to the scene of the crime. He smiles, doing his best Vanna White impression from Wheel of Fortune as he gestures to a spot on the counter that was clearly where one of them have sat. "And here, we have—"

"Do not finish that sentence, William Adams." She seethes, her head throbbing once more.

He just snickers and shrugs, "I'll be in the other room while you two lovebirds clean up." He says, "Or should I say, Mr. and Mrs. Claus?" He asks, gesturing to the other side of the counter as he walks by and into the living room.

Elizabeth cautiously walks over to that side and immediately brings her hands up to her head, her palms hitting so hard that it actually made a smacking noise, "Oh my God, Henry, I'm never drinking again." She cries out, and then hears a laugh from Will in the other room.

He walks over beside her and when he gasps, she looks at him, "Why did we need to make a diagram, Henry?" She asks pitifully, her hands still on her head. She looks back, "At least we know now why Mrs. Claus is so sore in her lower back." She adds, contorting her face as if it pains her to say those words.

He's trying to not laugh, she can tell, but her head hurts too bad to want to yell at him for it. "I…I have no idea." He says, putting his hand over his own mouth to keep from letting a laugh spill out.

December 24, 1988 | Henry

Elaine had been so ecstatic to meet Elizabeth's brother that she actually had made a whole, separate desert just for him. Elizabeth had been asked what her brother's favorite pie was, and when she relayed back to Elaine that it was apple, she immediately went to work on finding the best apples that she could in the Pittsburgh area. Henry had a slice, though, and it was truly delicious.

Shane and Erin had gone to bed, but they had joined everyone—Maureen, Gene, Will, Elizabeth, Henry, and Elaine—for some grueling rounds of Gin Rummy. Maureen had tucked Amanda into her bed hours ago, not long after dinner. There were no small children in the house this year, but next year, Amanda would be old enough to kind of grasp the idea of Santa Claus, and Henry was looking forward to that exciting time already. He missed the days of baking cookies for Santa with Erin and Shane, and then getting to eat them after they'd gone to bed, being sure to leave only a few crumbs each time.

The game shifted from Gin Rummy to something a little more adult, Texas Hold 'Em. It was a McCord family tradition, and even Patrick would join in for that. He was about to explain the rules to Elizabeth and Will, but both of them just looked at each other and laughed, "Yeah," Will says, trying to not come off too sarcastic, "Me and Liz went to boarding school, remember?"

Elizabeth piped in after she got a little laugh in, "Gambling with rich kids is how I bought my first car." She says, making the entire table—even Patrick, who undoubtedly was a little extra jolly with spirits, and Maureen who was just genuinely in a rare, good mood—erupt in laughter.

After Will absolutely smoked all of them, Maureen and Gene announced they were going to bed, and the rest of the table followed suit. Normally, Henry slept in his bedroom and Elizabeth slept in Maureen's old one, but following McCord Family tradition, all the adults made their beds in the living room, either on the couches or the recliners or the floor. Elizabeth got first choice per Elaine, but she quickly chose the floor—she hadn't wanted to burden anyone, Henry could tell that much. Henry decided to take the floor, too, and Will as well. Elaine told Maureen she should have the couch, Patrick to the recliner, and everyone was settling into their respective "beds" by one in the morning. Henry had gone upstairs to brush his teeth, though, and he hears footsteps coming down the hall to him.

After a little knock on the door and him calling out "just a minute," the doorknob opens and he sees Elizabeth peeking around. His eyes widen, his mouth full of toothpaste as he says, "Did anyone see you?"

"No," she whispers, laughing a little bit. "I just wanted to let you know how ridiculously sore I am." She says.

"Me too," he agrees, rubbing his lower abdomen.

"No," she says, "I can barely walk, Henry."

When her eyes widen, he realizes she's not talking about the soreness that he's talking about, and he spits his toothpaste out of his mouth and bites his lip as he looks at her in the mirror, "Oh," he says sheepishly, and they both try to not laugh.

"Little pieces of last night keep coming back to me," she admits, "But one thing that just keeps sticking out to me is how happy I was to be your Mrs."

She wraps her arms around his neck and he smiles, putting his palms on her hips, "My Mrs. Claus…" he points out.

She snorts, "Yeah, well…" she shrugs a little and rolls her eyes, "We were drunk."

"So drunk."

"But I was happy."

"I was too." He admits, kissing her on the tip of her nose, "Think next year we'll be Mr. and Mrs.?"

She shrugs again, looking extra innocent, "We're already Mr. and Mrs. in every way except by the law." She reminds quietly, giving him a little kiss on the lips that was a little hotter than it should've been, making him raise his brows as if he were in a drunken stupor once more.

"Mmmph." He moans quietly, looking at her as she gives him a grin, "I love you, soon-to-be Mrs. McCord."

"I love the way that sounds," she whispers, looking into his eyes. He's pretty sure he sees an actual sparkle in her eye, but he's not sure that's physically possible. He tries to play it off that maybe the light caught it just right, but when he looks closer, he sees it happen again—that's nothing the light can do. That's happiness. "And I love you, Mr. McCord."

He smiles as he pulls her body to his, giving her a kiss on the lips, "Merry Christmas, my love."

"Merry Christmas." She whispers back.

December 25, 1988 | Elizabeth

It was just the wee hours of Christmas morning, of course—nobody had been asleep yet except the ones who were under the age of sixteen. But she still somehow felt the extra Christmas spirit, somehow she felt like the air was lighter when she breathed in.

After sneaking out of the bathroom from her little tryst with Henry, she walked downstairs again to the living room where everyone was settling into their beds, just about to be comfortable enough to fall asleep. Will had already dozed off, Patrick was snoring, and Gene was helping Maureen with her blanket. She stopped at the bottom of the staircase for a moment, just taking the scene in. This is family, she thinks to herself, feeling her eyes start to water a little. She blinks quickly to not make a scene out of herself, because surely Elaine will catch her. That woman notices everything, it seems. This is what I've wanted for so long, she continues thinking, watching as Will was sleeping peacefully on a makeshift mattress with all Henry's family. After all these years of living with just the two of them and their aunt and uncle, she's finally able to give him something—family.

She feels a strong arm wrap around her waist and a stubbly face against hers, Henry's lips leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. "You alright?" He asks.

Looking over at him, peeling her gaze away from the happy sight in the living room, she nods and smiles, "Yeah," she whispers, feeling one drip of water release from her eye, "This is just…this is what I've always wanted. You gave that to me." She says quietly, trying to keep her voice down, "You gave that to me and to him," she adds, looking over to Will as she quickly swipes underneath her eye.

He pulls her body into him, her head falling over on his shoulder, "It's because this is your true Christmas wish," he says, referring playfully to her Christmas wish last night.

She smirks and quietly chuckles, "Yes," she says, "This is my true Christmas wish. Family."