Dinner Is Served

{|style="width:100%; color:#FFF;" "Come on."
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"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Can't you at least consider trying—"

"NO."

Jacob sighed and wondered which side of the family Miranda had gotten her stubbornness from, his or Halsey's. Though in this instance, he was pretty sure it was Catherine coming out in their daughter. She had her hands on her hips and was scowling darkly, daring her father to come up with one more suggestion on bonding with her estranged mother.

"You haven't spoken a single word to her in years, Miranda," Jacob said, trying to remedy the situation. "I know you resent her for a lot of things, but you have to understand—she's been involved in work that's turned the tide of the war. She gave up motherhood to save you. To save a lot of people."

"Quit telling me what I've already heard a hundred times," Miranda snapped. Then her expression softened and she sighed. "Dad, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be angry at you."

"It's all right. You've had a lot on your mind lately. We both have. It's the Keyes family curse," Jacob mused. He tipped her chin up and mustered a tired smile. "But I don't want this to be a time of bitterness for either of us. If she wants to talk, at least try to carry a conversation. Who knows? You might find some common ground."

"Doubt it," Miranda groused.


 * Meanwhile…

Doctor Halsey sighed explosively as she retreated from the comm control center, frustrated. She almost ran into Jorge, who was coming from the armory with Six following behind. "Ah, Jorge. I was wondering when we'd be able to catch up."

"Any luck with the comms in this weather, ma'am?" Jorge asked respectfully.

"None at all. I'm not surprised, really," Halsey said. "So I suppose I'll be staying here for the duration of the storm. Not what I was planning, but it will have to do."

"We don't mind your company at all," Jorge assured her. "It has been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Yes, it certainly has," Halsey replied somewhat distantly.

"We were just on our way to dinner, actually. We'd be honored if you'd join us," Jorge suggested expectantly. "Nothing like catching up over warm food, eh?"

"I'm afraid I'll have to pass on that." Halsey shook her head. "I'm really not in the mood…"

"It's Christmas, ma'am. You don't deserve to be lonely on Christmas Eve. It's… well, it's just not right," Jorge insisted. "Besides, there are plenty of seats, and more food than even we're used to eating. Always room for one more."

Halsey blinked, unsure of how to react. She'd put her Spartans through so much… and yet they were willing to welcome her with open arms, like this. If only Miranda were so forgiving… "I… I suppose I must accept, then," she replied, retaining her composure. She noticed Six sniffling and raised an eyebrow. "Feeling under the weather, Lieutenant?"

"Doh," Six answered. (translation: "No.")

"What a convincing lie," Halsey mused dryly. "It appears to be nothing more than a common cold, but I would advise lying low after the festivities are done with. Your enhanced immune system should knock it out by this time tomorrow."

"Grade," Six replied. (translation: "Great.")


 * Elsewhere…

Kat raised an eyebrow as Carter ran his hands down her sides, his calloused skin brushing over the soft red velvet. "Commander…" she muttered, but she couldn't resist smiling slightly. He rested his clean-shaven chin on her shoulder and she felt hot breath on her neck. "Someone's going to see us…"

"…And I'll snap their neck," Carter murmured back, almost playfully.

"Oh, you." Kat rolled her eyes. "Sometimes you're such a child, you know that?"

"At least I'm a happy one," Carter mused, pulling away and studying Kat at arm's length. "I have to admit, you look twice as beautiful in armor."

"With Covie blood and guts decorating my figure? Feh. Though I must admit, the battlefield is more… exciting," Kat replied, almost mischievously.

"What do you suggest I do to make this less boring, then?" Carter said in a low tone, intensity in his dark blue eyes.

"Ahem."

They both turned to see Jun standing there, looking uncomfortable. "Um… Rosenda says dinner's ready," he blurted, then backed out of the doorway and took off.

Carter looked mortified while Kat burst out laughing. She patted him on one rock-hard shoulder and sighed, shaking her head, all the while trying to suppress giggles. "Never mind. This place is quite exciting at times," she said, and Carter huffed. He would definitely give Jun a speech later on about not interrupting his private moments with Kat. He didn't know what would happen if any of the higher-ups found out all the juicy little details of his relationship with his subordinate… and he didn't want to find out the hard way. He just hoped the talkative sniper would use his common sense and keep his flapping trap shut for once.


 * The mess hall, about five minutes later:

"Da-a-ang," Emile muttered, surveying all the food that was laid out for the Christmas meal. The cynical Spartan had to admit, it was tantalizing, especially since it smelled like real, honest-to-God food, not something that had been freeze-dried. He tugged on Rosenda's ponytail, causing her to flinch. "Let's just hope it doesn't all disappear in ten seconds."

"Hey, I kept in mind all the calories we use per day. Trust me, there's plenty enough for all of us. I got backup reserves already heated up in case we run short," Rosenda shot back, grinning. "This is the foolproof Christmas dinner."

Everyone was picking out seats. The ODSTs and regular Marines had taken over the far end of the table and were almost to the point of drooling as they ogled the steaming food. Even Dare looked a little ravenous as she sat stiff as a stone in a chair adjacent to Buck, who was still oblivious to the small red bow taped to his hair. Colonel Holland had his seat picked out beside Dare, and Jacob Keyes sat beside him, with Miranda directly across. Emile slid into a seat farther down and crossed his arms, impatient, while Rosenda slipped in beside him and picked lint off the lapels of her uniform. She eyed the pile of meat patties crossly. "Barbarians," she whispered ominously, while Emile just snorted.

Jun came trotting in and sat down beside Miranda Keyes, who glanced at him, then back down at her empty plate. The sniper looked a little red in the face, and Emile wondered why. Better not to ask, he thought with a smirk.

Then Carter and Kat came in, and picked out seats next to Emile and Rosenda, filling in the spaces between Rosenda and Jun. Kat's robot arm clanked as she leaned against the table, inhaling deeply with an almost delirious smile. "Ahhhh, I can taste it even now," she sighed.

Then Jorge and Six came in, with Doctor Halsey following somewhat hesitantly. She saw Jacob and approached him slowly, and when he glanced around and saw her, he stood up. "Cath—er, Doctor, how nice of you to join us," he said in a very formal fashion. He pulled out the chair next to him and beckoned for her to sit down. "Here, have a seat. There's plenty of room."

Halsey's gaze flitted over to Miranda, who was deliberately avoiding eye contact. She looked back at Jacob, whose eyes were honest and inviting, and gave a little nod. Then she took a few more steps, and sat down as Jacob pushed her chair in. She looked uncomfortable, even reluctant, but of course kept her cool and refused to appear flustered in the slightest. Miranda turned her head toward the ODSTs, pretending to be absorbed in their conversation (which was about the number of no-scope kills each of them had managed in the past six months) but obviously just wanting to ignore Halsey.

Jorge decided to mimic Jacob's gesture and pulled a chair out for Six, indicating that she should sit down. She eased in beside Dr. Halsey, and the older woman glanced over for a second, as if surprised that Six was sitting there. Then Jorge sat on Six's other side, nearly too massive for the chair that supported his weight. Six swallowed down the urge to sneeze and looked up as Colonel Holland stood, tapping his fork against his glass to silence everyone who was talking.

"This is, obviously, one of the strangest occurrences any one of us has seen for a while, aside from moments on the battlefield: Spartans, Helljumpers, Marines, a civilian, and officers like myself sitting down together for Christmas dinner. However strange and unusual this may seem, at the moment it feels as though it was meant to be. Maybe we'll all learn something during our brief time together on this night. Maybe it's time for us to look past our differences and remember that, even though some of our bones may be unbreakable and our faces hidden behind masks most of the time, we all have one thing in common: we're human." Holland scanned the variety of faces before him, hoping that his words were sinking in. "In these dire times, humanity can't afford to break apart over petty differences. Even something as minor as a holiday can bring us together in ways we would have never imagined. I know that many of us have families back home, wherever 'home' may be; I also know that many of us treasure memories of families long lost. But tonight, we are family."

At the mention of families long lost, each of the Spartan-IIIs looked down at their empty plates. Carter gripped Kat's flesh hand under the table; Jun shifted in his seat, his jaw tight. Emile remained calm and cool, but Rosenda placed a hand on his thigh, near his knee, a reassuring gesture, perhaps seeking assurance herself. Six didn't do anything, just sniffled, but Jorge placed a hand on her shoulder all the same. Six couldn't help but feel out of place; after all, she was filling Thom-293's shoes, a position that some of Noble hadn't been willing to see replaced just yet. How was she, the "lone wolf," supposed to identify with them, when they had endured such a loss? But Jorge's hand gripping her shoulder caused her to feel less lonely, and she couldn't help feeling relieved.

No one saw it, but under the table, Jacob Keyes and Catherine Halsey were clasping hands tightly.

"Now I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm pretty darn hungry," Holland continued. This was met by muted cheers from the Marines' end of the table. "So let's put our differences aside, dig in, and wish our brothers and sisters across the stars a very merry Christmas."

"YES SIR!" all the Helljumpers shouted at once, while Dare flinched. "MERRY CHRISTMAS, SIR!"

The formalities over and done with, everyone started for the food.

The Moa burgers became an instant hit; even Dr. Halsey snagged a patty and picked it apart meticulously with her fork, nibbling on it and taking larger bites as she realized she liked it. Gunnery Sergeant Stacker and Private Chips Dubbo nodded their heads gleefully as everyone devoured the greasy burgers. "See, told ya they were outta this world," Dubbo snarked.

Rosenda just poked hers with her knife and muttered something inarticulate, while Emile downed his in five large bites, then treated them all to a loud burp. Then he scooped out half the cranberry sauce and dumped it on his plate while Rosenda looked on in half-amusement, half-horror.

Six didn't tackle the burgers; instead she dumped some mashed potatoes, creamed corn and cranberry sauce on her plate and sat there staring at it for a few seconds, then picked up her spoon and started on the potatoes. Her cold had really done a number on her appetite; what had been growing hunger earlier was now barely existent. Meanwhile, Jorge practically inhaled his serving and helped himself to seconds, then paused and watched as Six played with her food. "Not feeling hungry?" he asked, concerned.

"Dot really," Six answered. (translation: "Not really.")

As the meal went on, it became obvious that there was no shortage of food, as even the Spartans were able to have seconds and thirds without worry. After everyone had dined for about half an hour, Gunnery Sergeant Stacker stood up at his place and clanged his fork against his brandy mug, much louder than Holland's signal had been. "Alrighty then! Ladies and gentlemen, I call for a toast… not to the UNSC, or even Earth, but to humanity! What we're fighting for!"

"Here here!" Dutch bellowed, raising his mug.

Everyone followed suit, even the Spartans. "To humanity!" Kat barked, a fierce glint in her green eyes.

The Rookie set down his empty mug and looked around, bewildered, as the rest of the ODSTs started getting red in the face and their speech increased in volume. Nothing had changed on the Spartan end, and Halsey and the officers were sparing in their consumption, but it was quite obvious that Romeo, Mickey, Dutch, and even Buck were getting more than a little tipsy. The Rookie sat there like a calm in the eye of a storm as his comrades slapped him on the back and told tales of their exploits in the war, often accompanied by bursts of random laughter. Dare just sat there like a bump on a log, exasperated.

Emile glanced down at the carousing Marines, grinned evilly at Holland's semi-mortified expression, then reclined back in his seat with one arm around Rosenda's shoulders. "Best. Christmas. EVER," he snickered, downing his own brandy without a care in the world.


 * Some minutes later…

Miranda Keyes exited the mess hall and made her way to the rec room, where the Christmas tree stood tall and glittering. She paused in front of the massive tree and thought for a moment, then sighed.

"You all right, ma'am?"

Jun stood in the doorway, hanging back as if he was afraid of intruding. "Sorry, I just couldn't help but notice how you left in a hurry."

"I'm fine," Miranda stated coldly. "It was just getting too loud for my taste, if you must know."

"Ah." Jun knew she was lying, but didn't press the issue. "So…"

"That will be all, Warrant Officer."

Jun nearly jumped at the voice directly behind him. He turned to see Doctor Halsey standing there, arms crossed, obviously wanting him to leave. "I need to talk with the Lieutenant Commander. In private," Halsey said.

Jun backed away obediently. "Yes ma'am," he answered, inwardly wondering what the deal was between Halsey and the younger Keyes, but now was not a good time to pursue the question, he could just feel it.

After Jun was safely out of earshot, Miranda put her hands on her hips and exhaled slowly. "So you finally have something to say… Mom," she said curtly, her expression just as masklike as Halsey's, hiding her emotions.

"I have a lot of things to say," Halsey replied quietly, almost sadly. "If you're willing to hear me out, that is."

Miranda worked her jaw, considering, then let her arms drop to her sides and sighed.

"I'm listening."