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Wraith tried not to let the nerves get to her as she made the turn into the narrow laneway off the main street. The car’s headlights bobbed across the pothole-ridden asphalt before giving way to smooth cement, and she was swallowed by the darkness of the unlit lane.
Driving wasn’t something she did often. It spooked her too much, really. Getting behind the wheel for the first time and realising it was actually far from being the first time at all; feeling like it was second-nature, a muscle memory that transcended the total loss of all other recollection.
It should have made her feel closer to who she once was, but most of the time, it only made the discrepancy feel even greater.
But it was Christmas. It was Christmas, and she was reminded of that fact with each house she slowly, cautiously passed on the lane. Trees decorated in windows, fake snow and lights strung across roofs and porches, ornaments dotted around yards. And then, in her periphery, there were her sleeves. A too-big, ugly knit sweater she wouldn’t otherwise be caught dead in, in any universe, hanging from her arms and threatening to cover her knuckles. Elliott told her she would be turned away at the door if she didn’t wear it.
She knew he didn’t really mean it. But here she was, indulging him.
It wasn’t the first time she’d been to his childhood home. He grew up on the eastern outskirts of Solace City, on the way towards the Duchess River. It always struck her, every time they visited Evelyn, how quiet the area was. A peaceful, almost too-good far cry from the city life she grew accustomed to. Wraith liked it. Appreciated and relished it, even. She often found herself entertaining the idea of settling down in an area like this, that is, if she ever found herself wanting to settle down.
The car rolled to a gentle stop when she reached her destination. She turned her head, looking sidelong into the front yard, and she saw a dark figure moving about the porch. A dark figure, a ladder, a string of fairy lights rustling with the figure's movement. Elliott, decorating for his mother, no doubt.
Wraith smiled, the anxiety unclenching somewhat within her. Before dating him, she was always able to politely brush off his invites over for Christmas. Those years spent as nothing but competitors, then nothing but teammates, then nothing but friends, then… Well, there were no obligations back then. No obligations to invite just a friend over for Christmas, even if he did so, clumsily, anyway. No obligations to make an appearance as the new girlfriend who very clearly would otherwise be spending the holiday alone.
And despite Elliott’s reassurances that she was more than welcome, that his mom adored her, that it wouldn’t be the same without her there; despite believing those things he said, Wraith had been dreading it the same way she dreaded most social commitments. It wasn’t him—far from it. It was knowing what to say, how to act; who to be. Which was difficult enough in everyday situations, but for Wraith… this whole thing was about as far from an everyday situation as she could possibly get.
Elliott must have heard the low, idle rumble of the car, because he turned awkwardly at the top of the ladder toward the source of the noise. After a moment of scrutiny, he waved frantically and boyishly at her. Wraith laughed softly to herself, killed the engine, and gathered her bag on the passenger seat before getting out the car.
As she did, she heard a yelp, followed by a crash and thud.
When she looked up, Elliott was emerging from the heap he’d fallen into, rubbing his head gingerly. Wraith stepped onto the first stone flag of the grass-covered yard, eyes alight with amusement. “So that whole spiel about only high-stress situations making you,” she made an air quotation gesture with her free hand, “uncharacteristically clumsy… that still true?”
She could see his face more clearly as she neared. The only injury appeared to be on his ego, so she didn’t feel so bad about poking fun. “It’s Christmas Eve, and my ma didn’t even have her tree set up! That’s high-stress in my books.”
Wraith rolled her eyes, stretching a hand out when she was near enough. She felt the familiar pull of his weight as she hauled him to his feet—something they’d done a thousand times before, and could probably do a thousand times again.
She hummed in dubious acknowledgement, before taking in the half-strung lights along the roofs gutter.
“I see,” she drawled, “Christmas just couldn't go ahead without lights and a tree, right?”
“Exactly.” Elliott leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Now you’re getting it. You can, uh—you can head inside if you want. I’m almost done here.”
Knowing Evelyn’s disdain for shoes on inside the house, Wraith kicked hers off once she got in the door. She dropped her bag, too, and began her search for Elliott’s mother. Other family members—what was left of them, anyway—would be here, too, but the house was dim and quiet, save for the warm light of the kitchen bleeding into the other end of the dark hallway. Wraith peered into the living room to her left, and spotted the Christmas tree that Elliott had presumably put up for his mom. It must have been his doing, judging by the haphazard nature of the decoration. Even so, soft, multicoloured light emanated from it. It reflected off the baubles, and the tinsel, and the yellow star hanging from the top of the tree.
And of course, Wraith would have to add the wrapped gifts she’d brought to the pile underneath it.
The smell of Evelyn’s cooking hit her as she padded quietly towards the kitchen. And, not for the first time in her life, some part of Wraith’s subconscious was transported back through time. Just like her muscle memory for driving, her olfactory senses tingled, grasping for something, anything. The Witt home had always felt overwhelmingly familiar to Wraith, and she always tried her best not to wonder why. To entertain an impossible nostalgia, to imagine quietly to herself that she could have grown up in a place like this.
Instead, she focused on grounding herself in the here and now. It didn’t matter where those feelings came from. It couldn’t, or it would drive her crazy.
“Ellie, is that you?”
Wraith touched the frame of the entryway as she set foot in the kitchen. Evelyn’s back was to her, tending to something over the stove. “Just me, Mrs. Witt,” Wraith responded, “El’s still putting lights up outside.”
Without turning her body, Evelyn looked over her shoulder at Wraith. In her side-profile, Wraith saw a flash of Elliott’s high cheekbones and angular jaw. And that warm smile, spreading across her face as she saw who it was she was talking to. “Hi, honey, it’s good to see you! Care to be put to work?”
At that, Wraith felt something akin to relief. Evelyn was straightforward—Wraith didn’t need to do the mental calculations of where she stood as a guest, she was immediately given the opportunity to feel useful. And helping out, well, helped ease the fear of feeling out of place.
More than that, Wraith was glad Evelyn was feeling well.
“What can I do?”
Evelyn hummed in what sounded like approval. “Oh, I’d be so thankful if you peeled the potatoes. Normally I’d leave the skin on, but…” She paused to shake her head and laugh. Wraith took the opportunity to finish her thought.
“But Elliott hates the skin.”
“I suppose he swooped in and did all my decorating for me. I just… kept forgetting to,” Evelyn explained while Wraith washed her hands. “Well, my brother was supposed to be here hours ago, but he’s coming from another system, got held up and all that. If it wasn’t Elliott chewing me out, it’d be Droz!”
Right. Droz was Elliott’s famous uncle, who helped the Militia win the Battle of Typhon. Wraith wondered, fleetingly, if it would be weird to want to talk to him about that if she got a chance. After all, he was one of the last people to set foot on her home planet (and live to tell the tale).
Then again, he probably wouldn’t be very receptive to talking about the war over Christmas dinner.
“Christmas cheer seems to run in this family,” Wraith commented, rummaging through the drawers for a peeler. “Who else is coming, anyway?”
“Well, there’s Droz and his partner, Davis, and Davis’ daughter. Elliott also invited some of your friends… last minute. I said, the more the merrier!”
Although Evelyn couldn’t see her, Wraith made a face as she scraped potato peels into the sink. “Friends?”
“That boy…” Evelyn laughed lightly, “he heard they didn’t have any plans and asked them along. Oh, what were their names? The young, blonde girl—the cutie pie—“
Wraith’s eyebrows raised a little. “Nat? Um—Wattson?”
“That’s her! I can’t wait to meet her. And… Ramya, too. This is the biggest gathering we’ve had in a long time.”
Wraith frowned. “El didn’t tell me.” There wasn’t any bite in it, or jealousy, or anger. Oh, god. Did Elliott think she wouldn’t show if there was a crowd?
“Well,” Evelyn continued, “like I said: it was a last minute decision. You know how he is.”
Wraith shook her head knowingly. “I do.”
“Anyway. Did you get here okay? I know the roads have been icy this week.”
“I did, thanks. And… thank you for having me.”
Evelyn turned her head to regard Wraith, peeling potatoes behind her, once more. Her smile was warm. “Thank you for coming,” she said, and for a moment, Wraith allowed the sincerity of her words to wash over her, to make her feel somewhat at home. “Really. It’s great to have as many faces as we can. We barely used to be able to host the amount of people we once did.” She paused to let out another infectious laugh. “And I can tell it means a lot to our Elliott.”
Wraith and Evelyn settled between intervals of companionable silence, concentrated on their respective tasks, and talking shop. Evelyn loved hearing about the Games, and Wraith enjoyed talking tech and learning about whatever Evelyn could presently remember about her work. She could keep up with Evelyn’s ravings about holotech from her many years’ experience of the same with Elliott.
They had the same look in their eyes talking about it; the same excited, rambling manner. She could picture Elliott, years down the line, with those same crow’s feet and other smile lines marking his face, talking animatedly about his own work.
As Wraith finished peeling the last potato, the front door opened and shut. “Ma?” It was Elliott’s voice, mingled with the sound of a coat unzipping and footsteps approaching the kitchen. Wraith turned to face him as he came through the entryway, loosely folding her arms as she leaned against the counter. Elliott’s expression brightened when they met eyes. “Hey! The lights are up, wanna come see?”
Evelyn turned, pointing a wooden spoon at him. “I need all hands on deck in here!”
“Okay!” He said, holding his hands up in surrender, “B-but, I just wanted to bring Wraith’s stuff upstairs, so it’s outta the way.”
“I’ll go up with you,” Wraith said, pushing herself off the counter. “Lord knows you’ll get distracted.”
Evelyn smirked at her son, waggling the wooden spoon in Wraith’s direction. “She’s a keeper.”
Upstairs, in the Witt home, was nothing more than an attic converted into a bedroom. The house itself had been sold as a three-bedroom bungalow, which wasn’t ideal for what was a family of six. The attic room was conceptualised to spare Elliott’s eldest brother from having to share with Elliott, the youngest, considering the twins were just fine sharing. At least, that’s how Wraith recalled it.
“So…” Wraith said, setting her bag by the bed, “when were you gonna tell me Nat and Ramya would be here?”
When she turned, Elliott looked as though he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His hand came to the back of his neck as he grimaced.
“So here’s the thing,” he began. Oh, boy. “I actually mentioned this to them like… a month ago? During a match. ‘Cause we’d just had that debrief about this year’s Holo-Day Bash and I kinda offhandedly brought up Christmas plans…” he paused, shrugging. “I just said, well, hey, there’s always room at my place, when they said they didn’t have any. Plans, I mean. I didn’t… I didn’t think they’d actually take me up on it! Ram texted me this morning like—are we still welcome to yours this weekend? And I panicked, ‘cause I totally—“
Wraith, having heard enough, grabbed him by the forearms. “El. Woah. Okay. You’re rambling. I’m not mad.”
Elliott’s face fell. “You’re not?”
“No. Why would I be?”
“You sounded mad!”
She laughed incredulously at him. “I’m not.” With her hands still on his arms, she pulled him in to kiss him. “It’s actually… kind of nice. Nice of you to invite them. I was just worried that... you were worried how I'd react."
"I'm sorry it was sprung on you. I just pulled up here earlier, saw no decorations, and it kinda... took over all my attention? I wanted this Christmas to be perfect, y'know?"
For a moment, Wraith just stared at him—not... not sadly, rather, knowingly—because whenever Elliott said something like that, he usually meant perfect for everyone else, without including himself in the equation. Perfect, so his mom would remember it. So Wraith would get into the spirit of Christmas. So Droz and Davis wouldn't come all this way for nothing. So Natalie and Ramya wouldn't wish they'd made better plans.
In a way, Wraith knew that his anxieties mirrored her own—even if they came from different places and were going in different directions. She offered him a tiny, barely-there smile as she reached to cup his face. "I know. Now... let's get out of here before Evelyn beats us with that spoon."