White Secrets: Miscellaneous

- Defeatism Bonus Chapter

None of the Hallmark Christmas movies had helicopter rides that Moonie had seen. She sits with Maverick, hand combing through his tangled, wet golden hair in the darkness as they wait for Benedict, Marcellus, and Darlington to return from the roof.

Callie coughs, wet and loud. She coughs and coughs and starts to puke again.

"We're almost there," Moonie whispers, her voice to quiet to be heard over the sound of Callie's sickness. "We're so close."

The door opens, and the three men return. Tempest pulls herself to her feet and steps closer. Darlington doesn't approach her, holding the door open. Two paramedics follow behind them, entering the room.

One approaches Moonie. She leans in close, "can I have a look at him?"

Moonie nods, leaning back. Maverick's head is still in her lap. Her eyes flicker across his face as the paramedic places the back of her hand over his lips, and then begins to rub his chest with her knuckles. Maverick groans, makes a pained attempt to push away the hand.

The other paramedic begins to assess Callie. Galilee stands nearby, body pin straight. Jerry whistles and she turns her head. He nods, and so she approaches him. He pats the spot next to him, and she joins him on the ground.

"It's not too late for me to throw you out a window," he grins. "Maybe a bit too late for a pipe bomb."

Galilee smiles. She's shivering, arms covered in goosebumps. Jerry grabs the blanket on his lap and tosses half of it over to her.

Before this, they never the RAs of 6E and 6W never had slumber parties. Famously, Jerry didn't have slumber parties before now. With the building in this state, they might not be able to come back after Christmas.

"After the break, you should teach me how to play some of your video games," Galilee says.

Jerry doesn't nod. He blinks blankly. He grabs a coat he had balled up to make a pillow and chucks it at Galilee. She catches it, barely, and then wraps it around her shoulders.

It won't be fun to play with her. She'll suck, surely, but at least she will be there.

Just a few feet away, Marcellus and Elodie stand shoulder to shoulder.

"Do you think it's still Christmas?" she whispers to him.

Marcellus nods. The paramedics had wished them all a happy holidays when they first got off the helicopter. Marcellus had snorted, and in response Benedict had glared at him. Then, Marcellus looks over at her, "does it matter?"

She shrugs, "just trying to decide if this is the best Christmas in my life."

The guilt washes clean off him, as clean as he can get when the smell of flood water lingers on his skin, when he's in a shirt that has stopped smelling sweet like Elodie and has started to reek of his own sweat. This is her best Christmas too.

"Not many presents top a helicopter rescue," he agrees. He leans closer to her, bumping his shoulder against hers. She bumps it back.

"Once we are out..." Marcellus trails off. He swallows.

He's worried about the fishbowl. The snow globe. How everything in it is so contained, how the snow sparkles inside of it the way it doesn't once you leave. Breeching containment. He doesn't know what he is with Elodie, and before a few days ago, it didn't matter what they were. Suddenly, it does.