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Decorating the hub felt…unnecessary this year. They were down to a unit of three. Worked to the bone and with barely a moment to catch their breaths on the best of days. Just three. Sometimes four with Rhys, and sometimes even five with Martha filling in, but only on generous occasions. When it was regularly up to just three codependent coworkers to save the Earth (or at least Cardiff), decorating wasn’t exactly high on the priority list.
The ghost of Tosh and Owen were still felt in every cavernous chamber. The unmanned Medbay and a noticeably empty Mainframe desk still had this feeling of being wrong. But filling them with new things, letting them not be empty, that was also wrong. Even if they brought on extra hands (even if Martha ever accepted their very, very persistent plea to please, please come aboard full time), there was this understanding about leaving the space not overtaken. That they were not ready for the space to be filled yet. And well filling that space with…what tinsel…for a month? That was downright preposterous is what that was. They don’t have time for that. And it was an intrusion.
Except that it's not an intrusion. Not really. Tosh loved when Ianto decorated the hub that last Christmas, before the travelers came through the rift. Loved the twinkle of the lights and the quiet effort. Owen had scoffed and acted too cool for it, but silently and (maybe not as secretly as he would have liked), respected that Ianto was insane enough to add Christmas decorations to his list of jobs without anyone asking. And with that in mind maybe the dearly departed would have…liked if they kept up the tradition?
Maybe.
But they didn’t have time anyway. So what was the point?
They didn’t have time.
Apparently they referred only to Gwen and Ianto, because 12 days before Christmas, Jack hauled a tree into the hub.
A real tree. It smelled of pine and shed needles just about everywhere. The telltale trail of nature’s little green confetti showed the exact path which in the little evergreen had been dragged through their base.
Next to the tree: was a box. Covered in a bit of dust and a bit vintage. Maybe not Victorian, but definitely not of the 21st century. Out of time. Like the man that’d apparently dragged it out of storage.
Jack gave them a big shit eating, merry grin.
Gwen and Ianto stared dumbstruck.
“It’s Christmas!” all but shouted Jack. Jack who’d apparently not gotten the memo they were not doing this at all this year.
“How many times did you die dragging that in here, Jack Harkness?” asked Gwen. Jack’s glee at this activity wasn’t catching yet. But he was trying with her. Trying to tease out that toothy smile.
Jack put up his arms up in fake defense. “Ye of little faith. I know how to handle a big hunk of wood.”
That earns him an eyeroll. He deserved many eye rolls for that.
“Where’d the box come from?” asked Ianto. And then he added a bit of a warning and a plea in his own dry way. “Please tell me you didn’t get some cursed ornaments from the archives that will make us act out A Christmas Carol against our will.”
“Secondary storage, not archives. I remembered where the bosses kept the ornaments in the 40s.”
The 40s. Jack’s favorite era. That wasn’t lost on either of them. Gwen and Ianto shared a silent aside glance.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” asked Jack. He clapped his hands together. “Let’s get decorating!”
So perhaps…they did have time for this. The rift alarm wasn’t blaring. Gwen wasn’t running off to catch Wife Swap live as it was airing with her all too beleaguered husband. They were existing together. Decorating. Adding to the space. Adding merriment to the held space.
Jack took the lead with a silver garland. And a set of lights — the one decoration contribution that apparently had been newly purchased.
Ianto had taken over the garland laying with an affectionate swat because honestly, that was not how it was supposed to lay.
Gwen was discerning with bulbs. Red was a favorite color of both hers and Ianto’s. It was traditional for the holiday of course — but a lot of it ended up on the tree. It was balanced less by the few token green baubles, and more by Jack’s picks of blues.
Gwen was determined in her decorating. She missed spots on the inside branches but covered the most ground overall.
Ianto had more of an eye for detail. Going onto the inside branches, trying to draw out ornaments in colors Jack and Gwen had not picked.
Eventually the tree was as full as it would get. Jack reached in and placed a star atop.
“It’s a nice story,” said Jack as Gwen and Ianto looked up at him. They had fully leaned into a three way side-hug at this point, Ianto and Gwen on either side of Jack’s shoulders looked upwards at their handiwork. “Everyone from the lowest Shepard to the mightiest of Wisemen following a star because they believed in it. Faith in that the journey would lead them where they needed to be.”
Ianto leaned in just a little closer against Jack’s arm.
“I’ve always liked Christmas,” said Jack. “There’s just something about it. Marking the end of the year in the cold and dark with a holiday based around light and warmth. It’s just so…human.”
The hub was lighter. Less dark. Less empty. At least ever so slightly was the addition of the tree’s lights.
There were still ghosts. The three of them still had yet to discover what a consistent good night's sleep looked like between adventures. But maybe there was time. And room. Room for a little light in the dark.