4Author's Note: Sorry I haven't updated much recently. Life's been kind of hectic, which hasn't given me much time to write. However, I did manage this: A short little fic set in the "Just Come Home" universe. This takes place roughly a year before most of the later events in "Just Come Home". I hope you like it.
She takes another look outside the window, watching the snowflakes coming down softly, gently covering the outside in a blanket of white. Meanwhile, on the inside, she sits by the fire, a mug of warm tea in her hands, while her three-year-old son sits on the floor in front of the coffee table covered in paper and crayons. The sound of "It's A Wonderful Life" plays on the television in the background, but she's barely paying attention to it, and it seems her son does the same.
She breathes in the scent of peppermint and firewood, glancing at the three stockings that are yet to be filled and a tree that is empty underneath. The tree itself is barely decorated, with only its lights and its star and a handful of ornaments. As far as any other Christmas décor in or outside their home, there's none.
You knew what you were getting into when you married him, she thinks as her eyes flicker to the wedding band on her left hand. You never thought being without him would be like this, though.
"It's only a few months, remember that." he told her before he got on the plane to leave back in late October. "Before you know it, it'll be late January."
"And then shortly after that, you have another trip ahead of you, and you'll be gone longer even then." She tried not to get upset and tried not to get in argument shortly before saying goodbye. She didn't want to say goodbye to him on a bad note. "On top of it, you're missing Christmas!"
"I know, Eponine, and you know as well as I that if I could change it, I would." He gently grabbed hold of both of her shoulders, looking her in the eye. "This isn't easy, I understand, but when I became involved in this, I knew what I was getting into, I knew this was likely to happen. Does a part of me wish the timing would have been different? Yes, but it is something beyond my control."
There was a voice on the intercom announcing it was time to board the plane, and it wasn't long after that did she see their son holding onto his father's leg, showing no signs of letting go.
"I don't want you to go!" the boy cried. "Don't leave!"
"Matthieu…" she started, trying not to cry herself. It was difficult on its own that it would be months before he would be home again for her, and for their son, she can hardly imagine how difficult this is for him, making such a scene even more difficult for her to watch.
To think he'll be here a month from now, only to have to leave again a few months afterwards, she wishes that wasn't the case. The three months was rough enough, but for him to be gone seven months not long after that was unimaginable.
For her and their son, it's the first Christmas without him, and she hopes it will be the last, but with her husband being in the Armed Forces, she can't be certain if a few years from now he'll miss out on another Christmas.
"It doesn't feel like Christmas without you, Enjolras." she had told him when she had spoken to him earlier on the phone. "There may be specials in the stores, pine trees for sale, and carols on the radio, but it only feels like another day."
"I feel the same." was his reply. "How's Matthieu?"
"He misses his father."
"Just like his mother." he replied, which caused a slight smile to form on her face. "And I miss the both of you."
There was a bit of a pause in the conversation, as if both of them were unsure of what to say. She took a glance at the picture of Santa Claus in crayon that Matthieu had drawn earlier that day, sitting beside a full stocking that she had meant to send for Enjolras to have in time for Christmas, but somehow, it had gone undone.
"I don't know when you will get it, but I have a few things here I'll be sending out to you soon." she told him, her fingers ghosting over the letters on the stocking that spell his name. "Probably the day after tomorrow, since the post office will be closed."
"You know you didn't have to get me anything."
"Hey, I've been hearing how much you miss this and that of material things." she countered. "And not just from you."
"Ep—"
"It isn't much, but I thought it might make things a little easier for you, for the next month, at least." she said with a slight shrug, her eyes looking up to see their son walk slowly into the room, curiosity in his eyes. She beckoned him over with her free hand, and not long after was the child beside her.
"I have that picture of you and Matthieu," he said in reply, "and that's all I need."
She takes another breath, watching their young child sketch things out on a piece of paper, only to think about how much her husband has missed out in these past weeks. Despite it being almost a month before Thanksgiving when he left, they had put up the tree, bedecked it in lights, placed a handful of ornaments here and there, and Enjolras had placed Matthieu on his shoulders to put the star on the top of the tree. All three of them had sat in front of the fire the night before he had to leave, watching classic holiday films as if it were Christmas Eve, as if tomorrow their son would wake up the following morning to see the gifts under the tree and the treats in the stockings, as if Enjolras wasn't going anywhere at all.
She thinks back the Christmas four years ago, when it was only the two of them, in manner of speaking. She remembers being close to him, curled up on the couch as they ate popcorn and watched "Miracle on 34th Street," his arm draped over her bump protectively. At that time, she had been about five months along, and when he had found out a few months before, he had become so protective of her and their child that it was difficult to get him to leave her side. It was getting to the point where he got nervous about her doing the dishes ("What if the floor gets wet and you slip and fall?") and he almost wouldn't let her carry a half-gallon of milk ("You shouldn't be doing a lot of heavy lifting." "For Pete's sake, it's not even half-full!") She was glad he eventually settled down enough to give her some space (after Combeferre had given him a long talk, that is). Even after their son was born four months later, he wasn't as much as on edge as he had been then.
His main concern then had been near to the similar situation they were experiencing now. He didn't want to miss the holidays, didn't want to miss the important little things that came with being a father. All through the pregnancy, he had worried about being sent overseas, because being sent overseas could mean that he would miss the birth of their child, their firstborn. Back then, he was all-too-aware of men and women who missed out on many things because of where they had been sent. He had heard of missing those first moments of an infant's life, not hearing those first words or not being there for their first steps, not being able to celebrate their first birthday and holidays with them, not seeing their first day of school or the day they graduate high school. So many firsts he could miss, and he feared the possibility that he could be placed in such situations.
His current placement right now is only the first time he's ever been away from his family for something longer than a few days, and she knows if these three months were as difficult as they seemed, she could hardly imagine what seven months could do.
She has done what she could to film any precious moments for him to see once he gets home, but sometimes, she feels as if not even that's enough. The videos, they lack things compared to when one is in that moment. She fears he won't feel the same emotions compared to the ones he would feel if he had been there.
She misses him dearly. She only wishes for him to be there, to be able to hold him and have him near. To see the smile on his face. To be able to feel like she's truly home. Where she is right now, it's home, but not completely, not without him; one-third of the pieces are missing.
With little fuss, she manages to get their son to bed. The day had not been overly exhausting, staying inside and mainly relaxing, watching films and listening to music on the radio, but for a child that young, it very well could be. However, as tradition goes, she helped Matthieu put out the milk and cookies for Santa, as well as a few carrots for the reindeer, before putting the child to bed.
She doesn't stay up much longer before going to bed herself, taking one last look of the picture of the three of them on the nightstand before turning out the light.