Work Text:
The Planeteers happen to be in New York on Christmas Eve.
Wheeler didn't even know Christmas was so close – hadn't it been Thanksgiving only, like, last week?
Snow is dirty and crusted at the edges of the sidewalks. The streets are icy and there are lights and tinsel and wreaths everywhere. Even while he's working (sifting through Looten Plunder's tax records, courtesy of Linka's hacking skills), he manages to spot three poorly-dressed Santas, ringing bells and shouting ho, ho, ho, out into the crisp winter air.
Wheeler stares down at the street, distracted, not interested at all in the doctored tax records. The chair he's sitting in is uncomfortable, and the office is cold and quiet. Linka's fingers clacking noisily on a computer keyboard is the only sound.
Usually he'd be taking advantage of the situation: He and Linka, alone, and on Christmas Eve...
"This sucks," he says suddenly, tossing the papers onto the desk.
Linka jumps at the sudden noise.
"I can't believe we're workin' on Christmas Eve," Wheeler grumbles. He looks up at the cork-board behind Linka's head.
Looten Plunder has received two Christmas cards. They're stuck to the board with little thumb-tacks. The thought of Plunder receiving Christmas cheer makes Wheeler sick to his stomach.
Linka turns to see what he's looking at.
One of the cards has a painted dove on the front of it. Emblazoned beneath it, in gold lettering: Peace and Goodwill.
Linka mutters the words under her breath. When she turns back to the computer screen, she looks distinctly grumpy.
Wheeler gets up and stretches before he strolls to the cork-board. He can hear Christmas carols being sung down on the street. He silently curses Plunder for having an office so central and so near to busy crowds on the street below.
He tugs the thumb-tack out and flips the card open.
"You should not be reading his Christmas cards," Linka admonishes him.
"We shouldn't be readin' his tax records, either," Wheeler reminds her.
He thinks he sees a hint of a grin on her face before she turns back to the computer.
Looten,
Thought this would give you a laugh. Happy holidays.
Babs.
"Ugh," Wheeler mutters. "It's from Blight. And they have in jokes."
"Put it back, Yankee."
He stabs the card back onto the board and glares at the stupid dove, wishing stupid peace and stupid goodwill upon stupid Looten Plunder.
Stupid Christmas.
He lifts the corner on the other card (a bland painting of an evergreen in snow on the front) and sees Robin Plunder's scrawl signing the bottom.
Wheeler paces the tiny office, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. He's distracting Linka, and he knows he shouldn't, because it's important to corner Plunder in his latest illegal misdoings, but it's Christmas Eve and he's about to go crazy.
Linka sighs, hinting to him that he should sit down and be still. He crosses to the window instead, gazing down into the street. It's started to rain. Black umbrellas have gone up everywhere and people are hurrying as quickly as they dare on the ice-slickened streets.
"Got any plans for Christmas?" he asks suddenly. He turns to look at Linka.
She looks back at him in surprise. "Nyet," she says eventually. A slight blush rises to her cheeks. "I had not realised Christmas was so close."
"Yeah," Wheeler agrees. He leans against the window, his breath fogging the glass. It's almost too cold to rest his forehead there, but he stays in position anyway, almost revelling in the cold. Because it's Christmas.
"Do you have any plans?" Linka asks.
"Nope. Christmas was never really a big deal at my place." He frowns, suddenly wondering why he feels so uncomfortable and so sullen if he's never really celebrated Christmas before.
"I have always enjoyed Christmas." Linka shifts uncomfortably in Plunder's desk chair. "This will be the first time I have been away from Grandmother and Mishka for the holidays."
Wheeler turns to look at her again. Her eyes are directed toward the computer screen again, but she's not concentrating. She's glazed and unfocused, her thoughts turned inwards.
"You sent 'em cards?" he asks, feeling blunt and uncomfortable. He fidgets and sinks into his chair again.
"Da, I have sent cards."
"Have the others mentioned Christmas to you at all?" Wheeler asks.
"Gi mentioned it several weeks ago. She was excited, but we have been so busy lately I think even she has forgotten..."
"Maybe she celebrates Christmas differently, anyway," Wheeler says. He tugs the tax papers toward him again, but can't concentrate.
The Christmas card behind Linka's blonde ponytail seems to be mocking him. Peace and Goodwill.
"We should go and meet the others," Linka says, checking her watch. "Bring those with you."
"Mm." Wheeler folds the papers untidily.
Linka's mouth presses itself into a thin line, but she doesn't say anything. She looks at him again, and her expression softens.
"You should take time to visit family, while we are here," she says. "It is Christmas, after all."
"Nope." Wheeler rejects her so flatly and so quickly, she looks taken aback. He hastens to explain. "I can't just drop in," he says. "I need to prepare myself, you know? And just 'cos it's Christmas..." He shakes his head and kicks at the desk with his foot. "I dunno," he mutters eventually. "Forget it. Just one of those days, I guess."
Linka gives him another look he can't quite decipher, but blessedly doesn't push the issue. He follows her to the elevator and they return to the roof, ducking their heads as they run through the rain to the geo-cruiser.
He hasn't even bought anyone any presents.
He feels guilty and upset, and a little disturbed that Christmas has somehow just arrived, in a whirlwind flurry of snow and tinsel and glitter.
Kwame and Ma-Ti have never celebrated Christmas. Kwame seems rather baffled by it. Ma-Ti appears interested in the traditional aspects, less so in the commercialism.
Wheeler tells him the commercialism is the best bit.
Linka sniffs at him disapprovingly, and Gi suddenly, guiltily, admits she hasn't had time to buy anyone presents.
"I haven't either," Wheeler tells her. "Don't worry about it, little mermaid."
He doesn't care about presents. Never really has – when he was a kid his mom would get him some little thing for Christmas – a pack of baseball cards or a giant bag of marbles or something like that. No big deal.
Everyone in his building was always too poor to worry about things like tinsel or lights, or even Christmas trees. (His mom had a cheap plastic tree about knee-height that she used to keep in a box under Wheeler's bed. It was a sorry excuse for the season, and by the time Wheeler was ten, she'd stopped dragging it out every year.)
Wheeler doesn't know why he's in such a funk over missing a holiday he's never really been attached to anyway.
They don't get back to Hope Island until December 28th.
Christmas Day is lost in an avalanche of office corridors, arguments and confrontations with Plunder, flashing police lights and sleepless nights.
Wheeler remembers sending a sarcastic Merry Christmas Plunder's way as he was led away in handcuffs.
He sleeps in the geo-cruiser on the way home, wondering if New Year's Eve will work out any better.
They unpack the cruiser tiredly, all of them silent. It was a successful mission, but being immersed in work and struggling to prove a case against Plunder while everyone else was so caught up in Christmas cheer has taken its toll. Even Kwame and Ma-Ti are feeling put-out as they realise they've missed the turkey dinners and the crisp scent of pine and snow; the brightly-coloured wrapping paper and the eggnog.
Wheeler doesn't even talk about it very much. On Thanksgiving he drove everyone crazy with how it all should be.
Christmas is over, and he missed it because of Plunder, damn him to hell, and he doesn't even care, really...
He wrinkles his brow as he heads for the Crystal Chamber. He cares about it, for sure, but he can't figure out as to why. Christmas has never been special.
He figures maybe this year is one of the first times it could have been. Maybe he's mourning a lost Christmas less than he's mourning a lost opportunity.
Linka disappears in the geo-cruiser the following day.
Wheeler figures she's gone to see her family, and it does nothing to improve his mood.
Kwame, in an effort to cheer him up, offers up a game of one-on-one basketball, but Wheeler declines, strangely preferring to wallow in his misery for a while longer.
Sometimes it's a relief to just give in to tiredness and disappointment. He doesn't do it very often.
Missing Christmas seems as good an excuse as any.
Linka comes back on New Year's Eve, setting the geo-cruiser down gently on the landing pad.
Wheeler's stretched out on the couch playing video games, shooting mutilated monsters and taking grim satisfaction in doing so.
"Wheeler..." Linka flicks the television set off disapprovingly, and Wheeler hastily hits the pause button on his controller.
"Hey!" he says indignantly. "I'm almost at the next level, what d'you think you're doing?"
She rolls her eyes. "I have a gift for you."
"Oh." Wheeler sits up in surprise, and then after a moment's thought, gets to his feet. "Uh, thanks," he says, though she hasn't handed him anything.
"I know you were upset, having to work over Christmas," Linka replies. She hands him a box she's been keeping behind her back. It's wrapped in red and a pretty gold bow sits on top. An envelope is tucked inside the ribbon.
"I haven't got you anything," Wheeler says guiltily.
She smiles. "I know."
"I can get you somethin', if you want."
She smiles and shakes her head.
"How was Russia?" Wheeler blurts. He feels he should make an effort at conversation before he opens her gift.
"It was wonderful, thank you," she says, smiling at him again. "I am glad I went. I feel like I had a Christmas, after all."
"Maybe that's what's wrong with me," Wheeler mutters. He looks down at the gift in his hands and shakes it gently. "D'you want me to open the card first?"
"It is up to you."
He opens the gift first, and laughs when he sees it. It's plastic – a little twig of plastic mistletoe. He rolls the stem in his fingers and looks at her cheekily. "So I can hang this up, even though Christmas is over?"
"For the rest of the year," she says simply, checking her watch. "You have nine hours left."
"I'll make good use of 'em," he promises. He opens the card.
There's a stupid dove on the front. Emblazoned in gold letters: Peace and Goodwill.
He laughs, and he laughs and he laughs.
Linka laughs too, and when they finally stop, she leans over and kisses him gently.
Kisses him before he's even had a chance to claim one via the mistletoe.