Holiday Cheer

Posted on Sat May 3rd, 2025 @ 10:41pm by Charles Xavier & Connor Bruin & Bobby Drake & Kurt Wagner & Darian Elliott & Hayden Davis & Kennedy Kelly & Maeve MacKenna & Jennifer Bryant & Drew Williams & Desmond Greene & Sarah Mitchell & Rahne Sinclair & Angela Williams

0 words; about a 1 minute read

Mission: Episode 6: X-Fernus Agenda
Location: X-Mansion
Timeline: December 25, 1990

Christmas at Xavier’s was a magical time of the year, overnight the entire school was transformed into a holiday wonderland. The dining room, once a formal ballroom, had a towering Christmas tree proudly standing in the corner, its branches heavy with twinkling fairy lights, shiny ornaments, and strands of popcorn garland. A sparkling star sat on top, tilted just slightly to one side.

A buffet of Christmas breakfast was being prepared in the kitchen, the heavenly smell of baked goods and bacon lingered combined with the cinnamon and pine from the tree. Adding to the ambiance of decadent celebration that came with the holiday cheer that every student possessed.

Beneath the tree, a sea of brightly wrapped presents in festive paper and big velvet bows waited to be opened, each one tagged with handwritten names while Plush stockings hung from above the fireplace mantel, bulging with goodies and candy canes peeking out the top. Sitting in his chair next to the tree, Charles Xavier waited for the menagerie of students to be let into the dining room. Most were still in their pajamas as they eagerly awaited their gifts. The whole mansion was wrapped in joy and togetherness — alive with the kind of magic that only comes once a year.

“Good morning, students,” Xavier said with a twinkle in his eye that told them how much happiness moments like this brought him. “Connor and Kennedy will assist you in finding your gifts should you need it, but my wish for you is to have a day filled with joy and peace. Please enjoy your gifts and the meal to follow.”

Hayden stifled a yawn and stretched as her classmates rushed past her toward the dining room. She was still comfortable in her loose-fitting blue and green plaid flannel pajama pants and the slightly oversized t-shirt from last Christmas. It had a picture of a steaming cup with a string and square piece of paper hanging over the side. Emblazoned across the top was the playful pun "My Tea Shirt."

The dining room took her breath away. Never had she encountered Christmas decorations so elaborate. The Professor clearly spared no expense for his students, something Hayden deeply appreciated. After the Professor's welcome speech concluded, she waited patiently as the younger students eagerly claimed their presents, then casually scanned the stockings until she spotted her name. With a smile tugging at her lips, she located her gift and carried it to where her stocking hung.

Anticipation built as Hayden unwrapped the heavy present. Her eyes widened at the beautifully bound book on mythology and constellations, exploring their profound interconnections. Flipping through the pages, she discovered chapters dedicated to the gods, heroes, and creatures of Greco-Roman mythology whose names graced the heavens as star patterns. This single volume would replace the awkward juggling of multiple reference books she'd endured at the library table for weeks. "This is perfect!" she exclaimed, genuine delight warming her voice.

"Read the dedication page," the Professor said.

Doing so revealed a handwritten note which read,

You are not adrift, Hayden. The tide does not carry you—it responds to you. Trust that you are meant to navigate, not be carried.
— C.X.

Still dressed in her clothes from yesterday, a positively feral Rahne clawed and scrambled to the front of the group of children. “Git oot ma way, Ah saw ma present first!" Pulling hair and tugging on clothes she forced everyone else to clear so that Rahne could get to her gift as soon as possible. She briefly examined the delicate paper that wrapped her present before practically shredding it thanks to the frantic manner that opened it.

Hidden beneath the paper was an oversized stuffed unicorn. Its rainbow mane and derpy gaze greeted her while a small sweet smile was sewn into the horse’s muzzle. Rahne practically shrieked at the gift as she hugged and held the stuffed animal tightly to her body. “He’s bonnie!”

The sweet moment made Connor grin at who he had agreed to be his step-sister of sorts. Wild as she was, he much preferred the look of her hugging a stuffed unicorn to chomping at his leg as she had done weeks prior.

Darian came next, sauntering through the group in his basketball shorts and tank top, a smug smirk painted across his face like it was permanent. He threw finger guns toward Bobby and Connor as he passed, tossing a wink to Angela, and dragging his feet in a dramatic show of how not into this corny little Christmas gift-giving charade he was.

"Y’'all better not be settin' me up with no damn socks," he warned aloud, though his grin made it impossible to tell whether he was joking.

Connor held the gift box toward him with both hands. It was plain—modest in size and wrapped in nondescript brown paper, as if it could've come off a backroom shelf somewhere, forgotten until today.

Darian took it lazily. "This better be somethin’ good, Prof," he muttered. But when he ripped through the paper and opened the top of the box, the cocky grin dropped from his face like a curtain falling after a bad act.

It was a baseball glove.

Not some new Nike or Mizuno either. It was old. Darkened leather, worn at the edges, a vintage pitcher's glove. Broken in from years of use, but cleaned and conditioned with obvious professional care. It smelled faintly of time and tobacco and long summer afternoons.

Darian blinked at it, confused. "Yo... wait, wut is this?" His fingers ghosted over the glove like it might vanish if he touched it wrong.

"It belonged to a pitcher for the Boston Royal Giants," Xavier said slowly, waiting for the pieces to fall together in the young man's mind. "A proud team."

Darian's brow furrowed. "I mean, yeah, I heard. Pops used to tell me stories 'bout the Negro Leagues when he played catch wit' me 'cause my dad weren't around."

His voice caught. He turned the glove over. Etched into the inside of the wrist strap in faded but clear letters were the initials E.W.

Darian's throat tightened. Those initials. Ezekiel Whitford. His mother's father.

"... Pops?"

The glove seemed heavier now in his hands, full of echoes from childhood memories. Him at six years old, chasing balls in the park the year before Pops died. Him trying to throw a fastball like his grandfather, who never got to play in the Majors but taught him anyway, like it mattered.

"Merry Christmas, Darian," Xavier said softly.

Darian said nothing. Not a quip. Not a joke. Not even a scoff. He clutched the glove to his chest like it was the most important thing in the world while tears filled his eyes. Then, wordlessly, he turned and ran away. Seconds later, his stomping feet could be heard running up the grand staircase, followed by the sharp slam of a bedroom door.

"IS HE MAD OR SAD?" Connor asked.

"No, Connor," replied the Professor who dabbed at the corner of his own eye with his handkerchief. "No, quite the opposite of either one. Mr. Elliott merely needs a moment alone."

"OKAY." Connor accepted that answer and moved onward to the next gift in the stack. "THIS IS FOR BOBBY."

As the youngest member of X-Factor, Bobby was the only one present. His family had essentially disowned him before he came to the mansion. There wasn't anywhere else he would consider home during the holidays.

"Me?" asked Bobby, a little surprised he still had a gift despite having left the mansion months earlier to live in New York with Scott and Jean.

"Yes," Xavier said warmly. "You're just as much a part of this family now as when you first arrived. More so."

Bobby hesitated only a moment before standing and walking over. He accepted the box with a sheepish little grin, clearly trying not to make a big deal out of it—but his eyes betrayed how much it meant. For someone who rarely got family gifts at all, just having one addressed to him was a moment.

He peeled back the ribbon and unfolded the paper carefully, more reverently than he probably meant to. When he opened the box, his brow furrowed.

Inside was a small velvet case. Elegant. Tasteful. Fancy in a way Bobby usually wasn't. He opened it—and inside, nestled against the satin interior, was a pair of polished gold cufflinks, each embossed with a subtle X logo.

"Whoa," Bobby whispered, honestly stunned. "These are... really nice!"

"Keep looking," Xavier said gently, gesturing toward the bottom of the box.

Bobby lifted the cufflinks and found beneath them, folded in crisp layers, was a stack of papers. Legal, formal, edged with a faint watermark. Confused, Bobby pulled them out and unfolded the top sheet.

As he scanned the header, his eyes widened. It was a certificate. Not just any certificate: An equity certificate. It entitled the holder to a minor stake in the X-Corporation—the financial arm of everything Charles Xavier had built: mutant advocacy, humanitarian aid, covert operations, the X-Men team, the school itself. A slice of the whole pie.

Bobby blinked. Then blinked again. "Wait. Is this... like, real? This is real?" he stammered, looking up at Xavier. "Professor, I—what? I... I don't even... why would you—?”

"I have watched you grow, Robert,” Xavier said more solemnly, his eyes bright with pride. "You have proven that you are capable of compassion, leadership, and loyalty, often when it mattered most. You are not the boy who first walked through our doors. You are a man who has earned his place not just at this mansion, but in its legacy. This was always waiting for you. The time has come."

Bobby looked down again, utterly floored. The cufflinks clinked softly in his hand, the sound grounding him in the moment. He stared at them for a second like he'd forgotten they were even there, then swallowed hard.

"Wow," he finally breathed. "I don’t even know what to say. I—thank you, Professor."

His voice cracked at the end. He pressed his lips together and gave a small, jerky nod, eyes glistening, and quietly returned to his seat—cufflinks still clutched in one hand, papers held like they might vanish if he let go.

Kurt smiled at the beautiful moments that unfolded one after another. The miscreant Darian moved to tears by the Professor's unmerited kindness followed by the jester Bobby being honored above any knight in medieval history by the king of this castle, it was enough to make his poet's heart sing. But as a fellow orphan, Kurt knew there was no such gift waiting for him, nothing of his legacy or grand fortune awaiting him. His lot in life was his own and he had long since come to be at peace with that. The simple things were his personal fortune and they were more than enough.

"Connor, would be a dear and fetch the blue one?" the Professor asked.

"NO, I CANNOT BE A DEER," Connor replied. "I CANNOT CHANGE INTO AN ANIMAL LIKE RAHNE." He took the gift the Professor had indicated and offered it to him.

"No, Connor," the Professor chuckled. "That one is for Kurt."

Kurt blinked in surprise, caught mid-thought as Connor handed him the blue-wrapped box with the same solemnity he might deliver a medical instrument. He accepted it slowly, almost timidly, his three-fingered hands delicate on the ribbon.

"For me?" he asked softly, clearly not expecting his name to be on any of the tags.

"For you," Xavier confirmed with a fond nod, "with gratitude for all that you are."

Kurt gave a small smile and sat back in his chair, letting the ribbon fall away before carefully peeling back the wrapping paper. The box beneath was sleek, zippered, and softly padded—a protective shell for something delicate. When he unzipped it, his golden eyes widened.

Inside was a Nikon F4.

He stared at it for a long moment before lifting it and holding it against the light. The matte black camera was solid, weighted, beautiful in its craftsmanship. He turned it in his hands, fingers instinctively finding the shutter release and film lever.

"I..." he began, glancing up at the Professor, confusion knitting his brow. "How did you know?"

"I didn’t," Xavier admitted, "until very recently. But I've always admired that you see the world in a way others do not. With more grace. More compassion. More reverence for the overlooked. A camera, Herr Wagner, is merely an extension of the soul. And yours... is one the world would be better for glimpsing."

Kurt swallowed, stunned silent.

"I would also point out," Xavier added with a subtle smirk, "that there are vistas only you can reach. Share them with us. Let us see through your eyes."

Kurt looked down again at the camera, then back at Xavier. "Herr Professor..." he said, voice tight, "you honor me yet again. I... I am not sure I deserve such kindness."

"You do," Xavier insisted. "And much more."

Kurt's eyes shimmered. "Zhen I vill do my best." He stood, bowed deeply, and pressed one hand to his chest while his tail stood straight up in salute. "Vielen Dank."

Once the demand for gifts from the younger students calmed Kennedy was finally free to find and open her own gift. Looking through the remaining presents she found one that was wrapped in a dark green paper that complimented her matching robe and slippers. The gift was heavy and square and she had to use two hands to carry it with her.

Sitting down outside of the fray of unwrapping, Kennedy carefully opened her gift. She discovered two thick leather bound books inside, they appeared to have been printed a long time ago and the titles and author were stamped across the covers in gold. Les Contemplations and Les Misérables both by Victor Hugo had been gifted to her. Skimming through the books she realized they were both in French, unabridged and presented the exact way that Hugo had written them.

“Thank you, Professor,” Kennedy said with a smile as she began to read Demain, dès l'aube despite the chaos that surrounded her.

Sitting on the floor off to one side, Sarah watch the others opening their presents and enjoyed the looks of excitement and joy on their faces as they did so. It reminded her a little of her own Christmases at home with her family and friends. Everyone gathered in their house around the Christmas tree sharing presents and lollies. This time however, she had no expectation of receiving a present this year. She'd only arrived at the mansion a few weeks ago and had yet to fully settle in with everyone else. So she was just happy to be in the room as the rest of the students and staff opened their gifts.

After Sarah sat down, Connor plopped a present in her lap. "THIS ONE HAS YOUR NAME ON IT," he signed before returning to the pile for further distribution of gifts.

Looking up at Connor in surprise, Sarah was going to sign back her thanks to him, but he'd turned around before she could respond to him. She hadn't expected a present this year, but she definitely wasn't going to say no to one either.

Giving the package a look over, she wasn't sure who could've sent it to her, maybe her parents had sent it ahead of time, or the professor had contacted them. Either way, the present wouldn't open itself. Changing her posture on the floor so she was now sitting on her knees, Sarah carefully ripped open the wrapping paper to reveal a wrapping of faded white cotton that had been meticulously folded around a small metal tube of some kind. It wasn't until she unwrapped everything that she even recognized what it was, and it made her freeze in surprise.

The wrapping was actually an old Royal Australian Naval ensign from the second world war and the metal tube was a fife, a small flute like instrument. It didn't take her long to recognize these two items. They'd come from her grandfather's old house, a place she'd spent a great deal of time at while he was still alive. She'd always enjoyed sitting by his feet listening to his old stories of his military service and the shenanigans they would get up to on those old ships.

As she sat there with the flag draped across her knees and the fife in her hands, Sarah couldn't stop herself from tearing up. "Thank you, Grandpa," she whispered, before looking up at the Professor.

"Your family sent a care package not long after you first arrived," the Professor explained. "I asked whether they would mind if I waited until Christmas to deliver these as gifts and they wholeheartedly agreed." Xavier smiled warmly. "Merry Christmas, Sarah. I'm so glad you have joined us."

taking in a shaky breath, Sarah gave the professor a smile, "thank you" she mouthed to him before she started to carefully fold up the flag.

Angela arrived after her quick search for Drew in the boys dorm. She'd even gone into his room uninvited to discover a number of gift bags and several large, flat boxes painted with Christmas motifs. She casually glanced out the window and spotted her brother zipping on the quarter mile athletic track. She shook her head before smiling and heading downstairs.

Angela entered the ballroom and found a manila envelope nestled in the branches of the Christmas tree. She opened the envelope and pulled out the contents. She turned to Charles with tears starting to glisten in her eyes. She approached him, but stopped short. It took her a moment to speak. "Um, could...could I give you a hug, Professor?"

"It would be my pleasure." Professor Xavier smiled at her and opened his arms to the side where she could reach him easier. "That ticket allows for a plus one, so you may chose to bring whomever you wish." For sentimental reasons, the Professor suspected Drew as a likely candidate, but there was no telling. This would be Angela's decision, as that was part of the gift. The best part of nostalgia was forging new memories from the old. "And my private chauffer service is available as well."

Angela missed her parents and grandparents. She was still coming to terms with their death. "Drew's really not a fan of theater, sir. I would like you to go with me. If you want to that is?

The Professor's expression remained kind, though a faint shadow of solemnity passed through his features. He placed a gentle hand over hers where it held the ticket.

"My dear Angela," he said softly, "that is a deeply generous offer, and I am touched that you would consider me." He paused—just long enough to let the sincerity settle. "But as your headmaster, it would not be appropriate. There are boundaries I must respect, not only for your sake, but for the sake of all my students." His gaze met hers with quiet understanding. There was no anger. No judgment. Only clarity. "You are a remarkable young woman, and I know you'll choose someone worthy of this gift—someone who makes you feel safe, seen, and joyful."

Then, with a warm smile that said nothing more needed to be said, he nodded once and added with finality, "I'll always be here to support you, but some paths are not mine to walk beside you."

Angela considered the Professor's words for a moment before nodding. She knew that Kennedy would most likely agree to go with her, but there was someone else who she should probably try and bond with. She looked about and didn't see the person in question at the moment. She turned to the Professor. "I understand sir. Thank you for the gift." She gave the Professor one more hug before moving off.

Hayden watched as everyone else opened presents and talked to one another. She really loved her book from the Professor, but especially the handwritten note in the front. That meant a lot to her and was such an encouragement. She would be reading and studying that book for the next several weeks.

While everyone else was busy, she scurried out and back up to her room to put the book on her nightstand. But before she left, she pulled a suitcase from under her bed and removed a square box professionally wrapped in green wrapping paper with holly berries printed on it. She put it in a snowflake themed gift bag and taped a white index card to the bag. On the card, she wrote the name Bobby with a red marker.

As nonchalantly as she could, Hayden carried the bag back downstairs and into the room with everyone else. She casually set it down on the opposite side of the Christmas tree, hoping to not be seen that much. When Bobby found it and opened it, he'd find a snow globe with a snowman in it. There'd be no name anywhere other than 'Frosty' on the brass nameplate. But she was sure he'd know.

Deciding to help Connor and Kennedy expedite the gift disbursement, Bobby stood up to join them. There was a gift tucked behind the tree that grabbed his attention. It would be a shame if someone was left out. He fished free the gift with a grunt of his outstretched fingers and was surprised to find it was another one for him. Seeing everyone else was distracted, Bobby shrugged and tore it open to see what he found find.

What he found shocked him. Bobby's fingers brushed the snow globe with the same gentle curiosity he used to cradle a snowflake in his palm as a kid. The moment he read the nameplate—Frosty—his lips parted into a slow, stunned smile. Of course. Of course, it was from her.

He didn't need a name on the tag. This was hers—clever and personal and warm in that way Hayden always was, even when she was being a little goofy. He tilted the globe slightly, watching the tiny flakes swirl around the smiling snowman. And as he did, something fluttered in his chest.

"Damn," he murmured under his breath, smiling wider now. "I'm doomed."

He glanced across the room toward Hayden, who was pretending not to watch him, and his heart thumped hard. It hit him in that quiet way good things sometimes do. This was full circle. A gift returned—not the object itself, but the gesture. The care behind it. Recently he had given something similar to Kennedy, thinking maybe that would melt the frost between them. Now Hayden had given him back the heart of it, without him even asking. What goes around... really did come around.

He stood, clutching the snow globe to his chest as well as the symbol it became for him. With a burst of nerves and giddy resolve, he crossed to Hayden and gently squeezed her hand.

"Thank you," he said, low enough that no one else would hear. "Really. It... means more than I can say." Then, softer still, "Meet me by the big tree outside? Five minutes."

It was difficult pretending not to be looking at him while trying to steal a glance. So Hayden jumped a little bit as Bobby squeezed her hand. "You're welcome," she said quietly. "Sure, outside by the big tree. See you in five." She smiled, "Just gotta change. Pajamas are no good for the current weather conditions."

Then he slipped away, snow globe in hand, up the stairs toward the guest wing—toward the room that used to be his and the gift he’d stashed beneath the bed just in case he got brave enough. Turned out, he was.
As the gift exchange continued, Kennedy got up and made her way back to the tree where she picked up a present she had previously placed beneath the branches. Large enough that she needed two hands to carry it, she clutched the gift to her chest before making her way over to the Professor.

“Sir,” Kennedy said while handing the present to Xavier. “This one is for you.”

The gift was heavy and solid as she passed it to him and it filled most of his lap as he unwrapped it. The Professor discovered it was a large wooden box made from rich mahogany with smoothed corners and brass hinges. Above the knob to open its lid were his initials in gold inlay. When he opened it, he discovered it was a tea box intended for storing and organizing bags of tea. Tidy little compartments lined the inside of the box along with a fancy geometric pattern on the inside of the lid. It was practical yet beautiful in its design.

“I know allowing me to live here was a risk for you at one point in time, and I won’t ever forget that,” Kennedy said with gratitude in her voice, “Merry Christmas and thank you.”

Professor Xavier ran his fingers along the smooth mahogany grain, the golden inlay of his initials catching the twinkle of Christmas lights in a soft glint. The compartments were obviously hand-crafted, the craftsmanship impeccable—but it was the intention behind it that made the gift shine brightest of all. He looked up at Kennedy, warmth welling in his eyes.

"This is exquisite," he said, voice touched with genuine emotion. "Both in form and in thought."

He let the lid close gently, his palm resting atop the box as he turned his attention fully to her. "You honor me with your gratitude, Kennedy. But allow me to say this—those who define themselves by their origins," he paused, his voice soft but resolute, "have never truly lived."

He sat still while holding her gaze, and his smile deepened, pride evident in every line of his expression.

"I welcomed you not because of where you came from, but because of where I believed you could go. And what a joy it has been to see that belief borne out. The world may once have known you as Miss Kelly the Senator's Daughter, but it will come to know Kennedy and be better for it."

He bowed his head slightly in appreciation. "Thank you, my dear. And Merry Christmas."

“You’re welcome, Sir.” Kennedy offered him a small curtsy, a brief reminder of where she came from. Her start at the school had been a little rocky thanks to her family, the probation sentence she arrived with, then the events of the Hellfire Club. But she had at least managed to land on her feet, finding her place in the school. “You’re too kind.”

Kennedy sat back and returned to her own position of repose as the gift exchange continued, that was until she noticed Maeve sitting on the edge of the chaos looking like she didn’t really know how to step in. Taking her new position as RA to heart, Kennedy got up and looked under the tree until she found a large gift for Maeve. Attempting to move it, she once again found that it was rather heavy and took a minute to collect it for the Irish girl.

“This one is labeled for you,” Kennedy said while placing the awkward gift at Maeve’s feet. “It’s cut throat under that tree, You're probably better off out here.”

"You know its funny." Maeve began as she saw the large gift Kennedy had shuffled over. "Back home on Achill I'd have been in fighting with my sisters to get right into that tree. We'd even have a village tree that was even messier..." she trailed off. "It's strange to have this again." She implied the holiday and the 'family' that had accepted her.

Opening the wrapping paper, Maeve discovered a small pottery wheel and a package of clay. While her abilities allowed her to shape and mold earth to her will there was something simple and grounding in creating art with clay in a traditional manner. Another creative outlet for the girl who was ever changing, one that requires patience and focus in order to make something beautiful.

As the paper fell a large smile grew on Maeve's face. She'd need to do this the old fashioned way and luckily she did have some limited experience before her abilities showed up. Making things back on Achill was a necessary skill to keep the village going at times and pottery, whereas not her best subject, was one she had attempted before. "This is amazing, Professor..." she reached out and squeezed Xavier’s shoulder. "You don't know what this means to me. Almost feels like home." She smiled as her eyes didn't move from her present.

Professor Xavier smiled warmly as Maeve admired the gift, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening with quiet satisfaction. Her unfiltered and earnest happiness was its own reward.

"I am so very pleased it speaks to you, Maeve," he said gently. "Both as a piece of where you've come from, and I hope, as a small step toward where you're going."

He placed his hand atop hers as it rested on his shoulder, the gesture fatherly and full of affection. "You are an artist in your own right, not just of stone and soil, but of will and resilience. It’s time now to create something entirely your own—on your terms."

Then, with a subtle lift of his brow and a trace of mirth in his tone, he added, "And between us... the sunroom is in dire need of a new vase after young Miss Sinclair's last impromptu game of fetch. I look forward to seeing what you make."

"That makes two of us." Maeve replied thinking it had been a long time since she'd actually made anything by hand, no powers included.

Drew entered the mansion and headed for the stairs. Angela spotted him and called out for her brother to come join the early morning festivities. She pointed to a rather large box by the tree. Drew walked over and took the box before taking a seat next to Angela. He opened the gift to find an acoustic guitar inside. He thought back to the incident with Sarah.

Angela looked from her brother to the Professor and silently mouthed the words thank you. She turned back to Drew. "It's Christmas Morning. Would you?"

Drew looked up from the guitar to Angela, then to the Professor and finally back to Angela. His family had a tradition of singing a Christmas song the morning of Christmas Day. Though still saddened by the loss of their parents, today was a day to rejoice, even if just for the younger ones gathered around. He took a moment to tune the guitar before starting to play his favorite Christmas song: Feliz Navidad.

Angela sat next to Drew and started to sing the lyrics, her brother joining her voice a moment later. Angela looked around at the faces of those gathered and gestured for them to join in the song.

Unicorn in hand Rahne bounded over to the guitar player, she didn’t know the words to this song but she was eager to participate, most likely thanks to the copious amount of sugar she had already consumed. Lifting her head up to the sky, Rahne began to sing the best way she knew how

AwoooWooWooWooOooOooOooo

The wolf girl began to howl at the top of her lungs, drowning out the actual lyrics until the entire hall echoed with her offkey but blissful expression.

Jennifer grinned at the wolf girl. She sat down on the other side of Drew from Angela and sang along. After the song came to a close, she lifted her own present. She was among the last and she looked around. She was curious but also a bit nervous. She opened the box and saw a rather nice pair of black leather gloves. "Thank you, Professor." She looked at them carefully. They were nice on the face of them, very classy, but everyone else's gift had had a lot of context. She didn't recognize these at first. Then she grinned. "These are like my mom had! A long time ago! She wears them in pictures with my dad!"

Professor Xavier's smile deepened as Jennifer lit up with recognition. He folded his hands gently in his lap, his tone warm and affectionate.

"I remember noticing them the first time I came to your home," he said as he inclined his head slightly with the flicker of memory evident in his eyes. "You are growing into a remarkable young woman, Jennifer. I thought... a piece of home, something that reminded you of where you came from and the love that shaped you, might offer a bit of comfort as you step further into who you are becoming."

"Thank you, Professor," she said again. "It means a lot."

Drew went to the Christmas tree and recovered three large wrapped gifts and took two of them to Professor Xavier and Connor. The last one he brought to Bobby's seat. He looked at all of them and shrugged in a humble fashion. "I hope you all like it. It's all I could really think of to do in the last couple of weeks."

While one of the gifts remained unopened where Bobby had been sitting before he left the room, Connor and Professor Xavier opened their gifts.

Tearing through the wrapping paper, Connor tilted his head to examine his own gift like it was a strange medical anomaly. "WHAT IS IT?" he asked, genuinely perplexed.

"They're oil paintings,” Professor Xavier supplied gently, stepping in to mediate. "And very thoughtful ones at that." He turned to Drew with an encouraging smile. "Thank you. You were too kind to include us."

Connor continued squinting at the bold, blocky brushwork that was meant to represent the alternate class team. "OKAY, I SEE IT NOW," he offered with a shrug. "MAYBE IT CAN GO IN THE WAR ROOM. OR THE STORAGE CLOSET."

"Don't be rude," Xavier chided lightly, though his tone held humor. "Expressionism is about emotion, not precision. And Drew, your effort was heartfelt. I'm touched."

"UNTIL WE CAN FIND A BETTER PLACE," Connor went on, his brow still knit in uncertainty. "THANK YOU."

Xavier rested a hand briefly on Drew’s shoulder. "Merry Christmas, Drew. You've given us something truly unique."

Desmond hadn't yet joined the group in the dining hall. He had come downstairs with the last few stragglers but hadn't found the heart to descend the final three steps. Instead he had taken a seat on those steps. He didn't want to be a stick in the mud, or a sourpuss. But it was Christmas, and he also didn't really want to be here. The Professor had explained that it was better for him, and safer for his family if he stayed here. When Rahne howled her wolf's howl, he gathered his spirits. His face twisted itself into a happy neutral expression. And as best as he could, a boy who was 6'7" and several hundred pounds tried sneaking into the dining room.

But one can't sneak into the dining room. Not when the world's most powerful telepath is there. Desmond's attention was drawn to a large box, neatly wrapped in green and red paper. A tag dangled with Desmond's name on it. Gently Desmond lifted it and tore the paper. Under the paper, and inside the box Desmond found a pair of black, leather boots. High quality, sturdy hiking boots. Black laces ran up the length. And they were Desmond's size 24's. They looked hand made. Desmond didn't need boots. His feet were so sturdy that even hiking through snow didn't cause discomfort. But he had wanted good shoes in his size ever since his mutation triggered. After several long moments of admiring the craftsmanship, Desmond tore his eyes off the boots and over to Xavier. "Thank you, Professor," He rumbled out quietly.

"You're welcome," the Professor said. "If Hank were here, no doubt he would quote Polonius from Hamlet, 'For clothyng oft maketh man,' a dubious sentiment, but I am happy you like them all the same."

"MINE IS NEXT." There was a long present with Connor's name on it. Connor tore into the paper with the ferocity of a kid on a sugar high. Shreds of wrapping flew like confetti until he stood before the massive box inside, his name printed in a tidy tag taped to the top.

His eyes lit up as he read the front: CELESTRON SCHMIDT-CASSEGRAIN REFLECTOR TELESCOPE. He read the bold font letters, practically vibrating with glee. "WITH COMPUTERIZED MOUNT AND HIGH-RES STAR TRACKING," he signed.

He dropped to his knees and pried the lid open, his hands already moving to inventory the components. "DUAL-FORK ARM DESIGN. EQUATORIAL WEDGE INCLUDED. THERE IS EVEN AN AUTOGUIDER PORT. THIS IS GREAT."

Professor Xavier smiled fondly as he moved toward him. "It also comes with a star chart and an observation logbook," he said. "I thought you might enjoy tracking the known constellations... and perhaps naming one or two of your own."

Connor froze for a beat before gasping. "I LOVE COUNTING THINGS," he signed with glee.

"I rather thought you might," Xavier said, amused by the sheer delight on his face. "And considering how much of the night sky remains uncharted, I've no doubt your attention to detail will uncover something even the Hubble may have missed."

Connor was already flipping through the astronomy guide tucked into the box, his mouth moving silently as he read with hyperfocused excitement. The telescope lay beside him like a newly discovered artifact.

With that, Professor Xavier turned back to the group, looking around with a faint twinkle in his eye. "Now then... are there any other gifts left unclaimed?"

The question hung on the air unanswered, enamored as everyone was with their gifts. Professor Xavier indulged a fatherly smile. Most days being headmaster required a professional distance from his students, but on days like today, it was a special occasion that allowed for a personal touch and a bit of warmth to shine through. He held his own gifts in his lap and took a moment of silence in quiet gratitude for how wonderful the year's end had taken shape.

"Merry Christmas, my X-Men."

 

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