TO THE MALL!

{|style="width:100%; color:#FFF;" Carter sat on his bed, dressed in a dark gray uniform and black boots. He had a five o'clock shadow and his eyes looked tired. He was alone in the men's quarters and took the opportunity to pull a holographic photo out of his pocket. He stared at the photo with a blank expression, watching as a man and a woman smiled up at him. The chill in the air seemed to grow more pronounced, and the Spartan Commander shivered slightly.
 * valign="top" style="padding:5px;"|

"GAH!"

He shoved the photo back into his pocket as Jun came bursting through the door. "Hot shower!" the sniper yelped, snatching a gray sweat suit and fleeing toward the shower area. Carter watched him go, a bit perplexed. "Must… thaw… face…" Jun was saying, and it echoed down the hall.

Carter pulled the picture back out and resumed staring at it.

It was around holidays like this that he missed them the most.


 * Elsewhere inside Noble Base…

Kat adjusted her clingy gray sweater and sighed. Everything the Spartans wore was either black, gray or white, excluding their armor. It was simplistic and typical of the military, but just wouldn't do for the holiday. She would have to dispatch someone to Uni-Mart or the mall to pick up some decent holiday wear…

She walked into the mess hall, where Rosenda had taken over the kitchen. Emile was standing there looking constipated while he monotonously shaved the skin off potatoes with a steak knife. Rosenda was moving faster than a hyperactive five-year-old, chattering about recipes and spices and secret ingredients. Kat shook her head, resisting the urge to grin. Rosenda was as lethal as Emile in a fight, albeit more reserved, but she had a fascination with cooking that bordered on obsession.

"Did you get a tree?" Rosenda blurted upon seeing Kat. She was obviously high on caffeine or sugar.

"Yes we did—Jorge 'conscripted' a few Marines to help put it up in the rec room," Kat said, recalling how four of the seven Marines had opted to ride on the tree instead of helping to carry it.

"Oh Lord," Emile muttered, resisting the urge to facepalm. "Not those morons."

"Hey, you have to give them some credit. They're actually excited about decorating. Unlike some people," Rosenda growled, glaring daggers at Emile.

Emile shrugged. "Hey, to each his own. Me, I don't care for the flashy stuff."

"Where's Six?" Kat asked, looking around. "She wasn't in the girl's quarters, the bathroom, or the weight room, and since she's not here, I don't know where she could be."

"Oh, that's simple," Rosenda giggled. "She's going to get us a turkey."

"I thought we had a turkey?" Kat queried, confused.

"Oh, we do. But it's not nearly big enough. Six volunteered to go nail one so we'll have some for everyone," Rosenda assured the Lieutenant Commander.

"On a different note… how's Carter?" Kat asked hesitantly. "I haven't spoken with him all day."

Rosenda's expression fell a bit and Emile cleared his throat.

"Um… let's just say he's not in the holiday spirit," Rosenda muttered. "In fact, I don't think he wants anything to do with all this."

"He said we could pull this off ourselves, as long as he didn't have to do anything," Kat sighed. "I don't see why he has to be difficult, but I suppose he has his reasons."

Emile's eyes suddenly widened and he coughed, jerking his head toward the door. Kat turned and saw Carter standing there, looking somewhat weary. "Oh… Commander, I—" she began.

"It's okay, Kat," Carter said, attempting to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Have fun." With that, he turned and disappeared down the hall, and Kat stared after him, perplexed.

"Oh the drama," Emile mused, as Kat hurried after the Commander.

"Commander!"

Kat caught up with Carter and matched his pace. "Commander, I'm sorry I—"

"Didn't I just say it's okay?" Carter complained, facing the female Spartan. He stopped walking and looked into her face, aware that she was a few inches shorter than he was, and that she had invaded his personal space. "You shouldn't worry about me, Kat."

"I wasn't worryi—" Kat began, then paused and sighed. "Maybe I am worried. I just don't like seeing you down and not knowing what's going on."

"I'm a big boy and I'll take care of my own problems," Carter chided. "Besides, I may not enjoy the holiday, but that doesn't mean you have to sit on the sidelines. Go. Be a part of it and have fun with the others," he told her gently. "This is a time for joy, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Kat shot back. "Which is why it bothers me that you're depressed!"

"I never said I was—"

"You didn't have to say," Kat interrupted, placing one finger over Carter's mouth, shushing him. "Now. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"I'm afraid I can't," Carter said, taking her hand and lowering it back to her side. "Like I said, it's my problem and I'll deal."

"Really." Kat's eyes narrowed to green slits. "I thought you didn't like 'all the lone wolf stuff,' Commander."

"Curiosity killed the cat, Lieutenant Commander," Carter told her, his expression serious.

Kat sighed, shaking her head, and started back up the hallway.

In the rec room…

"So… anybody got any ideas for ornamentation?"

All six of the UNSC Marines looked up at the tree, scratched their heads and pondered Gunnery Sergeant Stacker's question. The Gunny crossed his arms and snorted. "Come on now, use those pea brains and come up with somethin'! This is CHRISTMAS for gosh sakes! 'Bout as important as your momma's birthday!"

"We could hang grenades! They look like ornaments," a Private declared happily, holding up a frag grenade.

"NO." Stacker bellowed, stamping one foot. "We are not. Hanging. Grenades. ON A CHRISTMAS TREE," he growled.

"Um, we could use barb wire as garland!"

"GAAAAH! NO! Whaddya think we are, Nazis?"

"Oh I know! We could string popcorn!" another Private piped up eagerly.

"Now that sounds sane. Might not be the purtiest thing, but it'll get the job done." Stacker glared at them all. "MARINES! Pop some popcorn and get to work!"

"SIR YES SIR!" the Privates all chorused, then scattered to find popcorn.

In the mess hall…

Rosenda stirred the pumpkin pie mixture, humming a marching cadence to herself, then glanced over her shoulder and sighed. "Look at all of you, begging like a bunch of stray puppies. Get lost!"

"Can I lick the spoon when you're done?" Jun asked hopefully.

"NO!"

"It's a lost cause, I'm afraid," Jorge sighed, while Emile stared at the can of cranberry sauce and willed it to levitate in his direction. Which, of course, did not happen.

"If you three want to be useful, then get your butts in a 'Hog and go find some decorations! I'm talking about lights, ornaments, the works! It's too dull and boring around here," Rosenda ordered. Then she smiled evilly. "If you do that, then… I just might think about letting you sample my cooking when it's done…"

"All right, that settles it, we're going to the mall," Jun babbled, grabbing Emile's arm and attempting to drag him toward the door.

Emile yanked his arm back and frowned. "We? Oh no. If you want to go make a fool of yourself, go right ahead. I'm fine right where I am, thank you."

"Emile." Jun grabbed his head and forced him to look at the cranberry sauce. "It needs you."

"I'll go start the 'Hog," Jorge said in a bored tone.