Chapter Text
The smell of turkey filled the house. Liara could hear the crackling of the fire – a real, honest-to-god, wood-burning blaze that she was petrified Lana would fall into – from the living room, where the tree stood tall and proud. She remembered Lana decorating it; lifted in her father’s arms, reaching as far as her own would allow, placing a shining star on the highest bough…
Gifts, of all sizes and shapes, garishly wrapped and piled in every corner. Almost all of them bearing Lana's name. From Santa; from Gramma and Grandpa; from Mommy and Daddy.
One special one, labeled:
From: Daddio
To: Cuttlefish.
Her song inside, framed like her mother's. Wouldn't appreciate it now, not really, but would someday.
Someday when I'm long gone and she's got her own cuttlefish, Shepard had thought – not without regret - whilst elbow deep in wrapping and toys -both dolls and toy guns, they had a real complicated little girl- and little pink shirts and biotiball equipment and new strings and rosin and about a hundred books and- the list went on.
Flashing red and green lights illuminating the front steps and wreaths hung from every lamp along the drive. Garland filled with glittering things hung on every doorframe. Holiday Scotch, expensive and rare, shared late at night in the den; filthy jokes and torrid stories spilling off ‘the boy’s’ lips.
“You know, Shep, this weird ass human holiday is growing on me.”
Lana standing in the middle of the foyer, where the sound was the best, playing her violin as her family clapped and cheered.
Playing along with her Dad at the piano; Christmas carols of course, but also songs from her latest pop culture crush that made Jane grit her teeth. Had learned them anyway.
For her.
Flour-covered faces and matching aprons, all thumbs in the kitchen like her mother, making cookies and squares and eating weird chocolate things imported from Earth that Shepard called Turtles for some reason; Daddy’s holiday becoming their holiday.
And eggnog. Of course.
Jane chasing her around the tree trying to kiss her with the sticky, sweet smell still on her breath. Collapsing into a fit of giggles when she caught her.
Benezia softly reading ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, Lana hanging off her every word, cuddled up in front of that fire in pyjamas with the feet built in, and a cup of hot chocolate in tiny hands. Sat between both her grandparents, with Aethyta’s arm around her slender shoulders; all baby giraffe limbs and height not caught up to her yet.
“The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;”
“Who?”
“Santa,” Jane filled in…
“Now, DASHER! Now, DANCER! Now, PRANCER and VIXEN! On, COMET! On CUPID! On, Donder and Blitzen! To the top of the portch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
Lana yelled out the names of the reindeer, Benezia pausing to let her. Kissing her softly on the cheek before resuming. Liara squeezed Shepard’s leg where she sat on the edge of her armchair.
“What about Rudolph?”
“Uh, he’s there too. Santa just forgot to call his name, you know, cause he’s already in the lead…”
“Why?”
I dunno, kid
“Who the hell is Rudolph?”
“The!”…
“He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, Happy Christmas to all! And to all a good-night!”
“Goodnight!” She had yawned and Liara carried her up the stairs on one hip after she had hugged them all and kissed them twice, and hugged them again.
“Don’t forget to leave my cookies out for Santa, Daddy,” a sleepy voice had mumbled from Liara’s neck.
“Best thing you ever did, kid. Makes up for the bullshit you put us through.”
“Merry Christmas, Aethyta.”
How the Grinch Stole Christmas and Blasto Saves Christmas and Christmas-Christmas-Christmas-
The Christmases Liara had craved since she had met Jane.
Winter nights warm, together.
***
Liara checked the oven and basted the turkey; stood at the window where spider webs of ice were cracking up the pane.
The Christmas Day sun was leaving long, harsh shafts of light that looked like birch trees. Icicles dangled off the hands of the garden statues; Shepard had placed a red hat on the head of one she thought looked suspiciously like Aethyta. The kind of weather that froze your nose closed and burnt your eyes.
Unless you were a–
-“how old are you now, Lana?”-
-“Four-almost-five!”
-year-old girl.
A lopsided and ugly snowman without any features, toiled over for hours;
Jane’s nose reddening, Lana’s cheeks flushed a deep purple; both freckled and covered in snow. Shepard gathered a drift in both hands and threw her arms up to the sky; it cascaded over her daughter’s head, where it ran down the back of her crest. Liara could almost hear the hearty gales of belly laughter.
So much like her father. So human.
“You will teach her to laugh quickly, love quickly; see the beauty in everything around you.”
Watched as Lana did the same: Shepard ducking and letting herself be doused in the frozen enchantment that snow was to a child. Watched Shepard falling into the powder with a small version of herself piling on top.
So different from the Christmas spent without those little feet padding up and down the hallways. The same hallways Liara had taken her first steps in. The same hallways she had haunted like a specter, grey and tormented, during those lonely Christmases after Vasir had almost killed her but before Azuke had brought them back together. The Christmases when neither her nor Aria held her in their arms, neither of them knew where she was. The Christmases she had spent here, alone…
…her parents pointedly avoiding the word; staring out into the falling snow, and frozen lake, daydreaming; watching the flakes but thinking of her.
Where she was, what she was doing out there with the Alliance; was there someone else with her under that strange plant - mistletoe?
Wanting to hold her in her arms on those cold nights; so strange that she wasn’t there amidst the howling wind and pine tree tops painted white with winter’s brush.
There are reminders of you everywhere I go…
The time of year when Shepard was so near.
So far away.
Imagined her at the bow so some great starship; maybe thinking of her as well at this time of year...
Imagined her at the piano that had lain dormant since her hands had danced over the keys – so silent; like her nights. Too hard for her to remember.
Couldn’t forget.
Could hear her music in her head; in her soul.
Imagined her laughing and smiling, here, with them, love and happiness surrounding her. Her love. Her family.
Imagined her back home, with another woman pressed close; exchanging gifts and sighing “Merry Christmas.” Loving her.
She turned her amber necklace around in her fingers, absently. Fingered her bare ring finger, so bleak and barren, the plain ring Jane had left at the hospital back in Serrice, buried in a drawer, yet to have its place on her hand.
Tried to recall how her body had felt beside her.
Oh, how I miss you, my love…
Had almost tried her old contact.
A thousand times.
“I’m just calling to say Merry Christmas, Jane...”
Jane caught her peering – spying – and she smiled at her; winked. Liara let the melancholic memories disappear; swirl and twirl into the wind, like the gusts of wind blowing the snow around her wife and daughter. Shepard tapped Lana’s shoulder and pointed to where she stood; could see her saying ‘Say hi to Mommy.’ Watched twin pairs of mittens wave; twin pairs of emerald eyes gazing up at her in the window.
Didn’t know why she was imagining those lonely, long-gone days when she should have sought her out on Akuze. Not when everything was so perfect now. Now that everything had become so right.
This is how she had seen her; imagined her in the snow on Christmas morning: joyful. With her. With their children.
She waved back and wrapped her arms around herself; around their baby, brand new and barely formed; unbeknownst to her father as of yet. Their upcoming second-in-command; a deputy to Lana’s sheriff. Liara’s little secret.
Shepard came in with the chief herself bundled in powerful arms, blue snowsuit to match blue skin covered in winter’s coldest hand-me-down. “Hi Mom;” dripped puddles all over Benezia’s back hall as she shed soaked, ice-covered clothing with every step. “Gramma Nezzy, Grandpa! Come see my snowman!”
Shepard blew out a weary breath, shaking out the long red hair that fell in her face, “she did what the Alliance could not do: she wore me out.” She grinned, watching her daughter’s tiny form - Liara in miniature - the small child she had dreamt of in a long forgotten meadow so many years ago - disappear.
Liara gathered the fallen soldiers and hung them up to dry; handed Jane a mug of coffee, the steam melting the snow in her hair. “Aria and Thea will be here by New Year’s Eve, perhaps Liselle will tire her out for a change.” She took another look at the snow-Asari decorating the lawn and hid a smile behind her hand. Hadn’t changed much from the young maiden Jane had caught in the rain.
“I tried to give it a proper crest and some boobs, but it’s not packing snow,” Shepard shrugged. Liara laughed and swatted at her; took her hand and pointed up to where she had hung mistletoe over the sink.
They kissed, soft and slow, and familiar. Her lips were cold but her breath was warm; tasted like coffee. Tasted like home. Like her past and her future and everything in between.
A gentle, winsome smile spread over Jane’s features, as slow as the arrival of spring; it was a ridiculous grin, but infectious. She watched it multiply in those green eyes she had fallen in love with.
The eyes she had indeed passed onto their eldest.
“I have something to tell you.”
Stood on tiptoes – brushing autumn hair away and tucking it behind freezing ears - cobalt lips pressed close; whispering words that left her speechless and stammering and staggered.
I love you. I made you, and I loved you, both of you.
All three of you: my daughters and my love.
“No?” Hushed; astounded. She placed her hands on Liara’s stomach.
A thousand years.
“Yes.”
Would keep this moment in her heart forever.
Till the day I die.
“Merry Christmas, Shepard.”