Chapter Text
As the mother turned away, embarrassed with the attention she was receiving from Penelope, Yellow spotted a bright red flush covering her face. “Well, it is what Rose would have wanted to do.” The sad tone immediately made Yellow assume that whoever this Rose was that she was no longer around. So once more they trekked through the snow until surprisingly, they went down the beach.
Yellow had to hold back curses as her heels slipped slightly in the hell combination that was snow with sand. She also had to catch Yelena multiple times as she did slip a few times and she vowed to never come to this place again. This city was truly cursed and she was never stepping foot anywhere near here again.
She did however try to hold back her disdain at having to sleep on an inflatable of all things. All the money in the world and she had to sleep on an inflatable. Blue was going to owe her so much. So so much. She also knew that White was thinking the same thing as she recognized the similar look on her face.
Her complete disdain at the situation deflated when the house came into sight and she somehow began to understand what Blue was talking about when planning the trip. Seemingly hemmed out in the rocks was a wooden beach house. Each balustrade covered in sparkling Christmas lights and she spotted a wreath on the door. The house was absolutely lovely and when closer she could see that it was handcrafted. The imperfections betraying the build as handmade, but the carvings on the posts, the edged shells and the sleek decorations at the window frames painted the house with love.
This was obviously a someone’s dream house, made from hard work and affection. She gently ran her hand across one of the details and silently marvelled at the smoothness. Pink would have loved this and she quietly shook at the thought. Now she was becoming like Blue, thinking of things that Pink would have loved.
When they finally reached the door and entered sweet warmth once more, she saw that the inside of the house told the same story as the outside. It was incredibly cosy with mismatched decorations everywhere. A Christmas tree had taken up one entire corner and was bedecked in handmade decorations, streamers were pulled along the entire sealing and somehow the entire chaos was organized. Every little knickknack seemed to have its own space, not a speck of dust could be found and she considered that the mechanic must be a neat person.
While surveying the room she pulled to a stop at the painting above the door. A hand tightened around her heart and she could feel the breath leave her body. It was like a sick joke, the face in the painting. While she looked at the painting, Pink was staring right back her. It was obviously Pink, she could recognize those eyes and that face everywhere, the only problem was that the Pink in the painting was older. There were crinkles near the eyes that never had the chance to grow on Pink’s face. The face and figure was rounder, the hair longer and curlier and most importantly she was female and Yellow thought that Pink would have loved to look like that. The Pink in the picture was radiant, holding a small baby in one hand and the other wrapped around Pearl.
A glance around the room revealed more pictures on the wall and Yellow made quick strides towards them, ignoring the rest of her family. The pictures told a story. She could see Pink. It had to be Pink right? In a wedding dress next to a tuxedo wearing Pearl. Pink was more masculine in the picture, but she could easily see the transition towards a more female appearing body across the pictures. Pink was so young in the wedding picture, she could not have been more than a year older than when she read that damned suicide note.
Did Pink hate them so much? To fake her own suicide?
She shook the thoughts from head, she needed to know what happened. Other than finally looking like a female, Pink slowly became paler in each picture and appeared to lose some weight. One picture depicted Pink at her palest, her face wan, frame shrunken, but beaming not the less as she held on to a pregnant Pearl. Yellow suddenly wondered if the painting above the door was simply a dream. A scene that never occurred, made to comfort, instead of being true.
While she was looking at the pictures, Pearl had slid up next to her. “My wife, Rose, loved the world and everything in it. We traveled the world together for quite some time, before settling here.” While saying that she gestured towards the many traveling pictures depicting Pink, no Rose, she almost let out a laugh it was such a Pink name to pick, in various places across the world. In each and every picture she was shining, joy radiating off her and Yellow thought of the last time she had actually seen Rose that happy. She did not like the answer to that question.
She eventually managed to tear her gaze away from the smiling Rose, to look at the mechanic next to her. Though she supposed that the lithe woman was actually her sister-in-law, said newly discovered sister was holding a now unbundled Steven, her nephew. She had a nephew.
A nephew…
What the fuck does one do with a nephew?
Does she teach him soccer? Or was that a dad thing? She had absolutely no clue. What she did have a clue about was the strange looks that her family was sending her and she just gave both Blue and White a sharp look while pointing at the painting above the door. “Rose is no longer around I am assuming?”
Pearl gave her a small sad smile in return. “No, she was, well, sick…” The smaller woman took a deep stuttering breath and her eyes were wet. “But she got to meet Steven. She got to meet Steven.” The repetition was probably more for herself, Yellow noted. “Though it is fortunate that you are here.” The woman was no longer meeting her eyes and seemed to be fixed onto the kitchen. “I seemed to have forgotten that we are no longer throwing a Christmas party. Rose used to love inviting everyone over for Christmas and I guess I forgot that it was just going to be the two of us.”
Penelope, who was probably the most socially adapt person of this entire family, seemed to have enough of the down mood that was being brought into the house. “Do you need any help cooking? I can tell you I’m quite a good cook!” The one-eyed woman puffed out her chest proudly. “Don’t expect any one else to be of any use though. They are absolutely helpless, but I have taught White how to chop vegetables.” At this Yellow shot White an incredulous look, but White’s face was still frozen and looking up at the painting.
Bella was apparently on the top of her game, because she picked up Steven with a quiet: “We’ll watch him, don’t worry.” Yelena had also taken the clue that something was not quite alright and was once again right next to her and led her to the couch.
So that left the three sisters, once four, next to each other on a couch, while the sounds of puttering came from behind them. The most beautiful Yelena and Bella kept her adorable nephew entertained, while they just sat there. Overwhelmed with information. Information they would never have gained if their car had not broken down.
As Yellow grasped both her sisters’ hands she came to that realization. If their car hadn’t broken down, if Blue hadn’t insisted on this vacation, they would have never met their lost sister’s wife. Never met their nephew. She would have never known that their sister hadn’t met a miserable end, but one filled with joy.
It was quite a realization that perhaps Christmas miracles did exist.
This year they had gotten a miracle.
During dinner, squeezed around the table, her lovely Yelena sat in her lap. Everyone was actually talking to each other and Pearl was trying to feed a constantly laughing Steven. Yellow's heart slightly melted at the sight and she wondered if this is what Rose would have wanted. If Rose would have wanted family nights just like this. With everyone being happy, talking and laughing. She supposed it didn't really matter anymore, Rose was gone and instead they now had Steven. Even though she could see the trouble they would have with explaining the situation, Yellow silently vowed that she would come back to this house each and every Christmas. Every holiday and birthday if allowed. She would not lose the piece of their family again.
...
Even if she had to sleep on an inflatable.