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It's not what's under the Christmas tree that matters but who's around it.
— Charlie Brown
“Cold?”
“Nope.”
The snow was swirling around them as they walked down the 49th, gathering onto Frank's beanie and falling behind his collar. His face stung as if attacked with a swarm of tiny ice needles, but he couldn’t help but crack a smile as he stared up into the night sky, the falling snowflakes transforming New York City into a world inside a snow globe. Whistling wind blew in Amy’s face, whipping her lush curls back, but she stubbornly pretended it didn't bother her; she braved the weather with her chin up high, like her fists weren't jammed deep in the pockets of her jeans and the clattering of her teeth couldn't be heard from miles away.
One blonde strand smacked her in the face and got into her mouth. Scowling, she spat it out and tucked it behind her ear — futile, for it slid back out immediately — before slipping her hand back into its hiding spot. Her shoulders raised up to her ears and curled inward, her entire body trying to barricade itself against the cold.
Frank scoffed. “You sure?”
Her breath shuddered. “Absolutely.”
“Frost ain't biting your ears off?”
“Not at all.”
She made a sniffling sound and wiped the back of her sleeve over her red nose. Her cheeks were also flushed pink, same as her ears, which she claimed would be “totally fine” only covered by her hair.
All Frank could do was shake his head. Not cold my ass. The kid was a walking popsicle.
“Alright, enough of that,” he said, blocking her path with his hand. He stepped in front of her, ignoring her glare of protest, and pulled out a second beanie from his pocket.
Amy rolled her eyes. “Really?”
He put it onto her head unceremoniously.
“I told you it's gonna be cold,” he grumbled as he tugged it down over her ears. “Did I say that? Did I say that? Take a jacket, it's cold. I said that.”
“I was fine! And I didn't pack a jacket. It's not like they sell winter jackets in a place where there's no winter.”
It took everything in him not to slap a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ, kid."
She could protest all she wanted, but that dive school sweatshirt she’s wearing ain't doing her any favors. He took off his jacket, leaving himself only in a dark green hoodie, and tucked it around her shaking shoulders, then leveled her with the same stubborn gaze she was giving him until she finally, begrudgingly, slid her arms into the too-long sleeves with an annoyed “ugh, fine.”
He zipped the jacket all the way up to her chin, and despite the pout on her face and her eyes throwing daggers at him, he could see the relief fill her body as warmth began to seep in.
Her hands were still freezing, though. She kept flexing them, trying to hide them in the cuffs, but the subtle grimace on her face told him it wasn't working. Frank stepped closer, gathered her hands in between his large palms and brought them to his mouth, huffing a warm breath inside before rubbing gently, infusing some heat into her skin.
Amy's expression softened as she watched him, her annoyance giving way to a deep sense of gratitude and something that he couldn't quite name.
“Better?” He asked, no real bite in his voice this time.
Her eyes still hung on their joined hands for a moment, her mind seemingly wandering elsewhere, but a small smile tugged at her lips at his question. “Yeah.”
He smiled back and pressed his lips to her numb fingers in a quick, featherlight kiss before releasing her hands. She hid them in her pockets like before. “But aren't you gonna be cold now?” She asked.
“I can take it, kid.”
“Oh but I can't?”
“Shut up,” he grunted. “Start walking.”
With a tender nudge, he guided her ahead, following closely as they walked down the street together. He tracked the curve of her shoulders, feeling a wave of relief wash over him when he saw she wasn’t shivering anymore. His jacket was much too big on her, nearly swallowing her whole, but it provided a comforting shield against the biting cold and the falling snow. It would do for tonight.
Life came back into her body now that she was warm again. She was looking around at all the lights and street decor, her eyes glinting, and a grin dazzling enough to compete with all those sparkling billboards. It was as if she had never seen New York before, but perhaps she hadn't, Frank thought, seeing a white mist escape her lips as she gasped at the massive Coca-Cola ad on the other side of the street.
She's never seen New York during Christmas.
He couldn't say no when she asked if she could come. It didn't feel right. All her friends were leaving for the Christmas break, or spending time with their families, and he couldn't let her be alone, a thousand miles away, even though initially, he had no intention of celebrating anything. Hasn't done it since… Since. There was simply no reason to.
And now here he was, strolling through the city on Christmas Eve like he once used to. And for the first time since his family died… it didn’t hurt that much.
Maybe it had something to do with that one overly excited kid currently drowning in his jacket. Maybe Frank was ready to dip his toes back in the holiday spirit, if only to make said kid smile.
They passed a clothing store display that was decked up in Christmas decorations from top to bottom. Three mannequins — a man, a woman, and a child — dressed in similar red and green pajamas with reindeer prints all over stood on an artificial snowdrift, with the child mannequin carrying a placard telling of an ongoing sale. Christmas music echoed through the street from speakers over the front door.
“Your favorite Christmas song, go,” Amy shot at him.
Frank pulled his hood over his head and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Don't have any,” he shrugged.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Come on, not even one?”
“Not even one.”
Maria used to love Santa Baby. They had the original Eartha Kitt version on vinyl, and she would always play it on Christmas Eve after the kids had gone to bed, asking him to dance with her. They'd sway in front of the Christmas tree in their living room, barefoot and quiet, lost in each other's gaze as everything else faded away.
Frank Junior would usually sing whatever he learned at school when he was little. He was mixing up all the words, completely out of tune but didn't give a shit — the lack of any musical talent a clear sign of his father's genes. Frank distinctly remembered the boy running around the kitchen, screeching Up On The Housetop at full capacity of his little lungs, to the misfortune of the whole family's ears. That giant grin that split his face open in those moments was absolutely worth it, though. Even more so when his father joined him.
Lisa, on the other hand, sounded like an angel straight from the heavens. That must have come from Maria and her Italian roots. Their last Christmas together, she was a part of a school play, and her rendition of Mary, Did You Know had brought him to tears.
So, maybe he had three favorite Christmas songs. None were worth mentioning.
Amy has gone suspiciously quiet, and when he glanced at her, he saw her walking with her head down, frowning at the pavement. Having known her long enough, Frank recognized that look instantly — the look of regret, a sign she was beating herself up for asking the question. She wore that face often, still afraid she'd cross a line with him, even though he'd never hold it against her. There were things he might never be ready to share, things too painful to speak about, but he could never be angry at her for wanting to know.
He nudged her with his elbow and smiled when she looked up.
“What's yours?”
She relaxed and took a moment to think about it.
“Wonderful Christmastime by Paul McCartney,” she decided. “But that's only because I used to be obsessed with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer when I was little. My first foster family, they had it on a VHS tape and I would rewatch it, like, religiously. I'm pretty sure I was able to recite the whole movie top to bottom in my sleep at the age of seven.”
Something swelled inside his chest as he watched her blabber, warmth spreading all over his body. They both carried burdens that weighed heavily on their hearts, experiences locked away in the shadowy recesses of their minds, unable to break past their lips. But just like he was trying to give her as much of himself as he could, she was trying too. Seeing her become more comfortable with her past, able to share certain memories with such openness and fondness, washed away all the worries that had built up in him during their time apart.
Florida was good to her.
He was proud.
The glow of colorful lights emerging from around the corner of the building was visible from a distance, but Amy seemed totally oblivious to it. She was fiddling with her phone, saying something about playing him her Christmas playlist on the way home. Looking at her, Frank couldn't understand how she hadn't figured out the reason for this little trip yet, but her cluelessness only meant her reaction was going to be even more satisfying.
“I promise I'm not gonna torture you with girly pop but maybe some Frank Sinatra or Michael Bublé or— whoaaaa…”
The Rockefeller Christmas Tree loomed over them, a breathtaking spectacle, shimmering in a cascade of vibrant colors. Countless lights wove their way through the towering spruce branches, stretching toward the stars in a way that made it almost unbearable to tilt your head back and take in their brilliance. The air around it felt like a cozy blanket settling over your lungs, heavy with a comforting scent of needles and resin.
It was enormous. In a city like New York, where skyscrapers, like trees in a forest, were a natural part of the landscape, it might not have been the tallest thing you could set your eyes on, but it still stood out in its grandeur and beauty, gleaming brightly against the backdrop of the buildings around it. Next to it, people looked like ants, milling about but always looking up, the magnificent tree’s highest branches bringing their eyes closer to the sky.
Frank had seen it a thousand times before. He saw it be brought in and put up; he saw it be taken down. Had perched his kids on his shoulders so they could look above the crowd and see it come to life. It once held a cherished place in his family's heart, woven into the fabric of their holiday celebrations — but once they were gone, it became just a tree. A simple fucking tree that stood here every year. No longer holding any weight to him. No longer bringing any magic.
He wasn’t expecting to feel anything when he decided to bring Amy here; he just wanted to make the kid happy. Inviting her just so she could spend the holidays holed up in his bunker, slowly dying of boredom, didn’t sit well with him. They weren't celebrating like everyone else, but he could offer her this — a taste of New York Christmas that she'd only seen in movies.
But watching her now, as she took it all in with her jaw hanging loose and wide eyes reflecting the kaleidoscope of lights, something stirred inside his chest. Something warm and cozy and familiar. She stood still, feet rooted to the ground, and kept gazing at the tree like she had never seen anything more beautiful in her life, completely, utterly mesmerized by its breathtaking presence — all the while Frank could not take his eyes off of her.
That smile that could light up a thousand suns. Those eyes, gray-blue like the ocean on a frigid November morning, bearing no ounce of fear or pain but twinkling with childlike wonder. He wanted to immortalize the sight. Keep it in his mind forever. He wanted to make sure it never faded from his memory, wanted to hold onto it like a lifeline, because for someone who not so long ago thought he had no reason to live, it was all the convincing he needed.
Coming to her side, he touched her lower back. “Come on, let’s get closer.”
Amy nodded mutely, her mouth still agape, and allowed Frank to guide her to a small opening in the crowd by the barricade surrounding the tree. She couldn’t look away from it even for a moment, too enchanted by the view, craning her neck all the way back to catch a glimpse of the star sitting at the very top.
“It’s beautiful…” she gasped in absolute awe, resting her elbows against the fence.
Looking up, Frank couldn’t help but smile at the tree fondly.
“Yes, it is, kid.”
But not as beautiful as that look on her face, illuminated by a thousand colors.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she continued as if she wasn’t one bit aware of his eyes on her. “I can’t remember the last time…”
Her face shifted ever so subtly, her smile dimming slightly and her eyes losing a hint of their sparkle before she schooled it all back into place. But Frank noticed. And he knew enough to recognize that look, when unwanted thoughts claw their way to the front of your mind, when memories you wish to bury intrude uninvited, and overshadow what’s in front of you.
Was it one of her group homes? A foster family that took her in just to change their minds? Fiona? He didn’t know, but he had figured out a long time ago that they all haunted her, just as the loss of his family haunted him. The kid probably didn’t have proper holidays in a long time. And he didn’t want to celebrate anything because doing it without his family felt wrong, it all simply hurt too much. But maybe that’s why they should. To not let the pain overshadow what was right in front of them.
They had each other. And it was Christmas.
And maybe this year, Frank could let himself feel the magic again.
He shifted closer and wrapped one arm around Amy’s shoulders.
“We could get our own, y’know,” he said softly.
Amy turned to him with eyes wide in surprise. “Really?”
He laughed and squeezed her to him. “Come on.”
They got a small one at Target. Five feet tall, its dark green branches dusted with white to resemble snow. He let Amy splurge on whatever decorations she chose, since he didn’t have any, and they left the store carrying stacks of boxes so high they could barely see over their tops. There wasn’t much room for the tree at his place since it was more of a storage space he hunkered in than anything actually liveable, but they moved some stuff and found a little spot for it in the corner of the main area.
They constantly bickered over the decorations; he pointed out every time Amy left an empty patch somewhere, and she was quick to notice whenever he put too much of the same color in one place. He tripped over the lights twice — much to her amusement — and she nearly knocked the whole thing over when squeezing in a tight spot behind a shelf to plug it in. They kept moving each other’s ornaments to different places, just to spend the next fifteen minutes arguing over the correct placement.
He hadn’t laughed this much in ages.
It was way past midnight by the time they finished, and when they did, they both stepped back to look at it critically, both with their hands on their hips.
It looked so out of place. One pocket of colorful light, surrounded by dirty walls, bloody towels, and a mess of weapons, ammo, canned food, and other shit that reminded them of harsh reality. It didn’t belong next to a board full of faces of the Punisher’s targets and horrendous headlines speaking of the crimes they committed.
And yet…
“It doesn’t look half bad,” Frank said with a teasing smirk.
Amy grinned at him excitedly. “I mean, we kinda nailed it.”
Frank looked back at the tree and nodded.
Yeah, they kinda did.
It was perfect.
“I, uh, I got you something.”
Turning around, Frank found Amy with her back to him, crouched over her bag. Confused, he watched as she pulled out a little, plain black box and carefully rose to her feet, cradling it as if it was something delicate and precious.
This time when her cheeks flushed a faint shade of pink, it wasn't from the cold. With her gaze fixed on the box, she cautiously approached him, her long curly hair cascading over one shoulder. Taking a deep, trembling breath, she stroked her thumbs over the lid and spoke.
“I know you said we wouldn’t be doing anything. But I figured it’d be nice if I got you something, since, y’know, you invited me here and… and I know technically people don’t open gifts until morning, but we just put up a tree, so I thought…” She got over her nervousness and handed him the box. “Here.”
Stunned, Frank took the box from her. It was so small it fit in the palm of his hand. Briefly, he glanced up at Amy and saw her chewing on her lip anxiously, twisting the rings around her fingers in a nervous tick as she waited with bated breath.
A pang of guilt shot through his chest.
“Kid,” he sighed. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know,” she shrugged. “But I wanted to. Come on, open it.”
He took the lid off.
It was a piece of a thick gold chain. Long enough for a bracelet. It looked old, its surface not as smooth and shiny as it once used to be, and something that looked like rust was peeking from the links’ crevices. But despite having its best days long behind it, it was clear that it had been meticulously cared for, cleaned and polished as close to perfection as possible.
“I found it just off the coast, back in July,” Amy explained as he took the chain out of the box and ran it between his fingers. The corners of her lips curled up in a shy smile. “I was just about to head to the surface ‘cause I was low on oxygen when I noticed it. It was stuck under a rock.” She huffed out a laugh. “Almost ran out of air to get it but it was worth it.”
Something lodged itself in Frank’s throat. His breath came out shaky.
“Your first treasure,” he choked out.
“Yeah.”
She sounded just as emotional as he was. Pride threatened to burst his chest open, and a thin layer of tears formed in his eyes, turning her face blurry. He sent her to Florida so she could follow her dreams. Marine salvage, exploring the great unknown of the ocean. And now, in his hands, he held the first piece of that dream. An actual lost treasure she found, restored, and now offered him as a gift.
Still a little nervous, she swayed back and forth on her tiptoes. “I know you’re not exactly a jewelry guy—”
He cut her off by offering her his right wrist.
“Do the honors, kid.”
Her face lit up with joy.
Her hands trembled slightly as she clasped it on. The metal brushed against his skin with an unexpected lightness; it felt oddly out of place, just like the Christmas tree in his fallout shelter, but somehow fit perfectly. It was true, Frank wasn’t a jewelry guy, but the moment the bracelet was on his wrist, he knew he would never take it off.
This way, even with the kid living a thousand miles away, a piece of her could always be with him.
“Come here,” Frank whispered and pulled Amy into his arms.
She fell against his chest with a wet laugh and instantly melted into him. With one arm wrapped securely around her back, he brought her close, cradling the back of her head with his free hand and tucking her under his chin. Feeling her arms come around his middle and squeeze him just as tight, Frank pressed a tender kiss to the crown of her head, a soft smile spreading across his face as he breathed in the scent of her hair.
God, he missed this kid. It wasn’t until he watched her gasp in shock at the sight of the most famous Christmas tree in New York and be way too serious and way too picky about ornament placement on her own tree that he realized just how much he had missed her. Without Maria and the kids, he was sure he would never be able to celebrate Christmas again, but Amy single-handedly brought the magic back into his life. He wasn’t one to believe in miracles, but how could he not when he was holding one in his arms right now?
Looking at the tree over her head, he thought of Maria. She’d be proud of him, he knew. She’d be happy he found someone to spend this day with, that he got someone to live for again. And he knew, without a doubt, that she would have loved Amy just as much as he did.
“Do you like it?” The kid mumbled into his chest.
Swaying gently, he rested his cheek against her head. “I love it.”
She made a happy sound and snuggled in closer.
Frank sighed. “But I didn’t get you anything.”
“That’s okay.” Pulling back slightly, Amy raised her head to look at him. Her eyes shimmered with tears. “You already gave me more than I could ever ask for.”
He brought a hand up to cup her cheek. “I’d do anything, remember? Anything.”
“I know.”
He brought her back to him and continued to sway with her, holding her close. Running his fingers through her hair, he planted another kiss on her forehead.
“Merry Christmas, baby girl,” he whispered.
Amy pressed her cheek to his chest.
“Merry Christmas, Frank.”