IT WAS CHRISTMAS EVE AND SPIRITS WERE MUCH LIGHTER.

When Mark was still around, tradition was that they would go to Birdie's family for Thanksgiving, though he was never pleased with it, and his family for Christmas, as he held Christmas in a slightly higher regard, despite being agnostic. But with Mark now gone, Birdie and Remy would be celebrating by themselves.

Of course, they weren't completely alone, as Jayne and Brad were staying home for the holidays and Birdie's mother promised that the only people who would be there for Christmas were the immediate family and her side of the family, not her father's.

"I'm sorry, mom," Birdie mumbled, and her mother shushed her, telling her that she didn't need to apologize and if she didn't want to tell her what was going on, she didn't have to, she trusted that Birdie would tell her with time.

"Grandma's the best," Remy said, listening in on the conversation, the other landline pressed up against his ear.

"While I don't agree with your snooping on mom's talk, I do have to agree," BUDDY replied, keeping Remy company while the boy finished placing all of the cranes into the special box he had found in the thrift store by his school.

"Are you going to give your gift to Marc today?" the AI asked, because he knew what the date was and Remy had asked him to look up card ideas and to send the link to his phone.

"Yeah," the boy replied, adjusting the bow that he used to wrap the letter to the bottom of the box, "He doesn't celebrate Christmas, but Peter told me that his girlfriend told him that she used to celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah, and Marc said he doesn't really mind people saying 'Merry Christmas' to him, so I think we'll be fine."

"Do you have a present for mom and Ethan?" he asked, because Remy had yet to fill him in on the work he and Tony had been doing back upstate in the facility.

"Yeah," Remy repeated, rising to his feet, balancing the box carefully in his hands, "I'll tell you about it later, okay? I gotta go give this to Marc before it gets too late. We're heading to grandma's house soon."

"Why did you wait until just now to give it to him?" BUDDY inquired, sounding very much like Birdie whenever she disapproved of something Remy had done.

"Because I'm wearing my suit now," Remy reasoned, thinking nothing of it, and, before BUDDY could make any other inquiry, he was off, calling out a goodbye and rushing out towards the front door.

"Where are you going?" Birdie called out, still cooking the plate she would be bringing to the dinner.

"I'm gonna go give Marc his present," he called out, adjusting his bowtie, and Birdie stepped out of the kitchen to look at him.

"Do you want me to come with you?" she asked, looking towards the darkening sky, "I think I should come with you."

"He's only a few doors down," he stated, but he didn't decline her offer, just waiting by the door.

Taking it as an affirmation, Birdie turned off the stove and took off her apron, toeing on her shoes, grabbing her phone and keys before heading out with Remy, wishing she had made something to give to the family, but deciding that she wasn't going to lose sleep over it.

The trek was a short one and it was as if Birdie blinked at the front of their home and opened her eyes to find herself in front of a door, the two waiting patiently for someone to answer the doorbell Remy had rung.

The door opened to reveal Marc who was clearly surprised to find them there, blinking like an owl, eyes zoning in on the box in Remy's hands. Before Remy could speak, Marc was raising a hand, "Hold on."

He ran off, leaving the door open, and there was a shout for him to close the door, his voice drifting down that someone was at the door, only for another call for him to let in their guests, only to receive a sharp, "no," in response.

"He doesn't want anyone to meet his parents," Remy explained, unsure as to why, but not making anymore comment besides that. Birdie didn't ask either, figuring that he would have told her if he knew.

Marc reappeared after resounding footsteps, out of breath as he held a jar in his hands, clear and, to Remy's utter shock, filled with paper boats.

"I didn't think I had to write you a letter as there are words on the insides of the boats," Marc explained, holding the jar out towards Remy, looking very uncomfortable with the whole exchange, "You always like unfolding your boats. You know what to do."

Remy reached out with one hand, taking the jar, thrusting the box and letter into Marc's still outstretched hand. "There are nine-hundred and ninety-nine cranes inside and one more paper so you can make the thousandth one and make a wish."

Birdie watched as the two boys just stared at each other for a moment, glancing down at the items in their hands, then at the item in the other boy's hand, then back at each other, and she had to wonder if either of them knew what was happening.

"So, I'll let you go back to..." Remy began, starting to back away.

"Yeah, um, we are just having dinner, but have fun at your Christmas party," Marc said, backing more inside his house.

"Thank you for the present," Remy stuttered, pointing towards his jar, "It really...you-you didn't have to, this probably took a while."

"Yeah, well you made nearly a thousand cranes, that must have...thank you for the present," Marc breathed, retreating and already starting to close the door.

"B-bye," Remy stammered, just as the door closed, turning around, his cheeks burning and his body turned in on itself.

Birdie blinked. "Remy, what was that?"

"I don't wanna talk about it, mom, let's just go," Remy shouted, pushing her ahead of him and towards the house, nearly causing her to trip, shoving her ahead a few feet.

She turned around to make sure he was following, only to see him rushing back towards the open door, throwing himself against Marc who hugged him tightly. The taller boy glanced over and froze, seeing that Birdie was watching and pulled away quickly, nodding towards Remy before slamming the door in his face, the smaller boy rushing back to his things and gathering them.

"Sorry, I had to fix my shoe," he mumbled, pushing past her and rushing back towards their home, jar hugged to his chest.

Birdie paused for a moment, just to smile. Her son had a friend. A Christmas miracle.

º º º

Dinner was already well underway when the doorbell rang.

During Christmas, dinner never had a set finish. There was a set start, usually around eight, but until it was time to open presents, everyone could just continue eating while they talked, which everyone did. So to say that dinner was well-underway was to say that it was about ten when the doorbell rang.

"Who is it?" Janice asked, standing up and hovering by Birdie protectively, "Get them away."

"Don't worry, mom, I invited him," Wilma said, holding her hands up to ease everyone back, Birdie feeling her face heat up in embarrassment at how much of a fuss she had created just by being there.

Birdie raised her head, taking a deep breath, only for it to get caught in her throat as Tony walked into the room wearing a nice sweater underneath a jacket and nice slacks. He looked everything like a model, and she found that the Santa hat Wilma dropped on his head only completed the look.

"Tony!" Janice cooed, standing up and reaching out to hug him, careful not to let her hands touch his nice clothes, as they were dirty from the food, "Fashionably late, I see, is this a trend with you celebrities. Oh, hush, I'm joking, come on, go get some food, Birdie is sitting over there, you can see her once you get a plate."

Birdie smiled and waved slightly as Tony was ushered into the kitchen by Janice, the man able to give her a small wave back before his attention was turned to more pressing issues, that being the spread in front of him, unable to do anything except take all the food Janice was piling onto his plate, the woman stating that he "just had to try this dish," but saying the same for every dish they had.

"Mom, don't scare him," Birdie called out, laughing as she listened to the spiel.

"He was here on Thanksgiving, he knows the drill," her mother called back, and everyone laughed, because Tony looked so out of place, yet so happy; at least, that was why Birdie laughed, she figured everyone else laughed for less introspective reasons.

She went back to eating, glancing over towards Remy and Ethan who were playing board games and eating, looking towards the clock every few minutes as if an hour had gone by while Remy was rolling the dice.

She looked up when she felt someone hover above her and smiled up at Tony who was standing almost nervously. She moved towards her left, motioning for him to sit, smiling as he squeezed into the space next to her, balancing his plate and starting to eat.

"Sorry I was late, Wilma told me to come at ten," he mumbled, taking a bite of his food to keep from replying, and she just knocked their knees together, letting him know that it was okay.

"You're here now," she whispered, and that was that.

While the two ate in relative silence, mulling over the weight of Birdie's words, Remy was watching them intently, furrowing his brow in confusion as he tried to understand what was going on between his mother and Tony.

"What's wrong?" Ethan asked, glancing behind him to see his aunt and Tony Stark sitting next to each other and eating, "If you think that's a problem, let me tell you, that's the opposite of a problem."

Remy shrugged noncommittally, going back to the game. "I just don't get it. I don't know."

Ethan frowned, opening his mouth to ask what he could have meant by that, only to be interrupted by the doorbell ringing again.

"I didn't invite anyone," Jayne called out from where she was perched on the arm next to Birdie, chatting with the woman and Tony, glancing over to her husband as if to question him and his motives.

Wilma hesitantly opened the door again, sharing a nod with her mother who was frowning, all the air sucked out of the room as they listened with anticipation and fear, Jayne and Tony shielding Birdie protectively, the woman unrelenting in her want to see who was there.

"You have to leave," they heard Wilma say, her voice stern and cold, "She doesn't want to see you."

"I just—Just let me see them, I'm still—" a voice argued, and Birdie's stomach plummeted as the familiar sound was coupled by the emergence of a familiar face.

"You're not welcome here," Janice called out, and Birdie jumped to her feet, genuinely appalled.

"Mom!" she cried, looking towards Mark with fear, as if he would storm off with that outburst, "You can't—"

"Yes, I can, this is my home, this is my family, and he has no right to come back here after everything he's done," Janice argued, barely turning to look at her daughter, her fury trained onto the man who continued to stand just by the entrance to the living room, "He has done nothing for you and you owe him nothing."

"He's Remy's father—" Birdie argued, but her father cut her off.

"He ran off because he found out he wasn't his father," the man cried, rising to his feet as well, "And he damn well never was. A real father wouldn't desert his son just because their blood wasn't the same. A real father would care about what his son liked, wouldn't put him down. A real father would still pay for his son's needs."

Birdie wasn't sure if she imagined the gasp that rang through the room as she took a deep breath, closing her eyes, knowing fully well that Remy was staring at her with abject shock. "You promised you'd never let him know."

"He deserves to know," Janice breathed, finally saying what she had been afraid to say for so long, "You can't convince your son to love a man who never loved him."

"I loved him—" Mark argued, but Janice cut him off.

"No, you didn't!" she cried, "You loved the idea of a son! You loved the idea of having a son who wasn't him, the idea of a wife who wasn't my daughter! You loved nothing of them except what you wanted them to be, and for that you deserve nothing! My daughter has spent all this time trying to convince her own son to love you when all she was doing was hurting herself and him, but you never cared. And now you think you can come here and talk, well, you're a bigger fool than I thought you were."

Mark was the epitome of calm and even Birdie had to admit, it made her blood boil. "I just came here to talk."

"You don't get to talk," Jayne called out, coming to stand next to Birdie, ignoring the way her friend touched her arm, pleading with her to stop, "You don't get to do anything anymore, not with this family."

Mark scoffed. "You're not part of this family, Jay."

It was then that something clicked. For the longest time, Birdie thought that she was far from the edge, nowhere near it, but maybe she had been teetering for so long that she just didn't know. Didn't know until the moment the words left his lips, the moment when all the anger, the resentment, the confusion, the hurt, all of it suddenly fell into place and an overwhelming amount of pain surged within her, an overwhelming amount of rage.

Pain, because he had hurt her. Hurt her in a way that she hadn't felt in so long, hurt in a way that he had promised he never would, and hurt in a way that he always did, yet she never wanted to acknowledge.

And rage. Pure, untapped rage, because he had hurt her and she had been defending him, trying to place him on a pedestal he didn't deserve to be on, and herself under a weight she didn't have to hold. Rage because he had hurt her son beyond repair—hurt her beyond repair—and they didn't deserve any of it. Rage because, after everything she had done and all that he hadn't, he had no right to show up here. He had no right to show and act like he had a right to see her or Remy, a right to her night, a right to her emotions and feelings, a right to get inside her head when he already knew he was in there.

He had no right to look Jayne in the eye and tell her that she wasn't part of the family.

"Leave," she breathed, her voice so soft it was barely heard, "Now."

Mark sighed heavily, as if she was being difficult, and she grit her teeth. "Birdie, c'mon, are you really going—"

"Leave before I make you," she spat, not moving from where she stood, afraid of what she might do once she did.

Mark turned towards Remy who was clutching the jar Marc had given him to his chest, staring up at his father with an unreadable expression. "Rem, it's me."

"Yeah," Remy replied, "It is you. Glad you're aware."

The man's eyes darkened as he frowned at the boy. "Hey. You know the rules, you don't get to talk to me like that—"

"I don't have to talk to you at all!" Remy cried, "And you don't have the right to talk to me like that either, so just leave, no one wants you here!"

"I'm your father!" Mark exclaimed, and Remy's eyes darkened, so similar to the man's own that Birdie's legs grew weak in fear.

"No, you're not. You said it, not me. You're not my dad." With that, he grabbed the glass he had been drinking out of and threw it at him, missing his head and shattering against the wall.

Everyone shouted, but no one reprimanded him, everyone tense and watching. With one last shocked look towards Remy, and a disapproving one towards Birdie, Mark left, pushing past Wilma and slamming the door, leaving everyone to pick up the shattered remains of the evening.

"I think," Janice breathed, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder, "It's time for dessert."

º º º

"I'm fine, really," Birdie said for the umpteenth time, gratefully accepting all the hugs and apologies and, 'you're better off without him's she was being given, still seated next to Tony who had been silent since Mark had left.

"I should have done something," he mumbled when Birdie finally turned to look at him.

He had stood up momentarily to check on Remy, the boy just hugging him tightly, forcing himself not to cry, the jar of boats open and a few unfolded, the boy clearly trying to cheer himself up with the words of his friend.

"I'm glad you didn't," Birdie breathed, "It was better that you didn't. I appreciate you still being here."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Why would I leave?"

Before Birdie could come up with a response, there were shouts of it being time to give presents, as the toddlers in the room were getting fussy, and subsequent cheers from everyone in the room, Ethan and Remy rushing to the Christmas elves and give everything out.

Things started out organized, everyone waiting patiently as presents were handed out one by one, but after a while it started to grow tedious and multiple presents were handed out at once and everyone was crossing over with everyone else, hugs and kisses being exchanged, thank you's being thrown around the room, and bright smiles found on everyone's faces.

Ethan had been ecstatic at the playing cards Remy had made him, in awe of the drawings of him that were coupled with quotes he had said or things he had done, all of which Remy had remembered or written down. The drawings had been commissioned, but Remy had been the one to correspond with the person, making sure that all the images still looked like Ethan despite the minimalist style.

Tony was happy to watch, laughing at everyone's surprise when they were handed either a small envelope with a good amount of cash or an alert on their phones about money being transferred into accounts.

"I couldn't come up with presents for each of you, because, well, I have no idea who any of you are," he announced, earning laughter in response, "But I didn't want to be that guy who didn't bring presents, so I hope we're not too disappointed in me." He smiled as they all laughed, family members rushing to hug him, some even tearing up and telling him they couldn't possibly accept his generosity, hugging him tighter than he refused their excuses.

"I like him way better," Jayne said to Birdie, and the woman laughed because Jayne always knew when she could make a joke, and this was one of the times when Birdie desperately needed one.

"Remy," Tony called out, gesturing for him to walk over to him, "Try to get some people to clear some space, your present is, uh, kind of big."

The small boy looked up from his stack of presents—he had gotten much more than usual, and he tried to pretend that it was because people just had more money rather than the real reason that had just made itself even more present less than an hour earlier—wide-eyed and curious, standing up and making his way to the center of the living room, pushing aside some wrapping paper and asking some people to move, which was easy enough as everyone was more than curious to see what Tony Stark had gotten him.

Reaching into his pocket, Tony handed Remy a small box. It was no bigger than the size of a candy bar, though it was about the thickness of a chunky ring box. Holding it in his hands, Remy raised an eyebrow, but set it down on the floor like Tony instructed, staring at it with his head tilted, admiring the sleek muted silver of it.

"Introduce yourself, say your name and age, speak normally, don't try to force your voice to be anything but your own," Tony instructed, and the instructions were so specific that Remy could only do what he was told.

"I'm Remy Walsh, I'm eleven years old," he recited, eyes widening as he realized where he had heard—and seen—those exact words before.

Everyone gasped the box hummed to life, pulsing with a blue hue, the lid opening and a mass of parts forming, climbing out of the box and rearranging until it revealed a blue something that was bigger than Birdie's 6'7" father and wider than the coffee table and a small head on a large body that was almost reminiscent of a balloon.

"This is a little more advanced tech than I usually have, but I talked to some people in Wakanda, figured they could get the research in and I could play around," Tony explained while everyone was still silent, "I can't take the credit for it, but I am responsible for a good amount of it. And the brain." He reached out to tap at the body of the balloon, jumping back when it reached out an arm to pat his head.

Birdie's jaw dropped. "Wait...are you saying that that's..."

The robot turned to look at her, and it spoke in a familiar accent. "Hi, mom."

There was a sharp gasp and everyone turned back towards Remy who was staring in complete shock at the light blue robot that tilted its head at him, holding out its arm. "Merry Christmas, Remy."

Suddenly, the boy was shooting forward, trying to wrap his arms around the large robot, surprised by how un-robotic it felt. It was like hugging a huge balloon, the material bending underneath him. He sighed as it began to heat up, arms wrapping around him, and he was shocked by just how much he had needed a hug.

"I thought red was your thing," Ethan commented as everyone went to go admire BUDDY.

Tony shrugged. "Blue is a more trusting color, I thought it would be more fitting."

Ethan smirked lightly. "Even if it's not your thing?"

Tony shrugged again, nudging the boy towards the robot. "I didn't make it for me."

Once the excitement of BUDDY died down, Remy and Tony turned their attention to Birdie, who was eating cake, happily watching everyone interact with the family member she had forgotten she had had.

Tony glanced down to the watch Birdie had gotten for him—she had tried to apologize for it, but he shushed her quickly, unsure of how to explain that his father had had the same brand of watch—pulling out another box from his pocket, long like a necklace box, but thinner than a regular one.

Birdie startled at the sight, glancing away quickly in embarassment, only to find Remy holding a box of his own, also sleek, but much smaller. She glanced between them, caught off guard, her cheeks and neck warm.

"Uh, yeah, just open them," Tony said, clearing his throat and trying not to seem flustered underneath his Santa hat, hoping his face wasn't red as he carefully handed the thin box over to Birdie.

She opened it carefully, gasping and nearly dropping the box as she caught sight of a necklace glittered with pearls and diamonds, woven together in an intricate pattern of leaves, all made out of metal. It was eyecatching, but still quiet, just like Birdie, Tony couldn't help but think. Birdie thought it was stunning.

"The metal's made out of the same stuff as my suit," Tony said, and she very well dropped it, Tony catching it at the last second, and Birdie didn't realize he had crouched down until that very moment.

"Tony..." she breathed, shaking her head, unsure of what else to say.

"I made these, but he was the one to make those," Tony said, jerking his head over to Remy who passed over his box.

Birdie opened it to find a matching set of earrings. They weren't incredibly long, but there was a small string of diamonds leading to pearls, the metal holding it all together clearly being the same.

She took a steadying breath, smiling at the two of them. "I love them," she breathed, holding her arms out towards them.

Remy hugged her first, as standard, because at the end of it all, he was the first one on her mind. She hugged him tightly, the two both realizing that, while she always did hug him whenever she left or came home, they didn't spend too much time together. It was strange, the one person she worked the hardest for was the one person she didn't get to spend enough time with. She pulled away and Remy immediately went running over towards BUDDY who was playing cards with Ethan.

Birdie hugged Tony next, because she hadn't really hugged him since he had stumbled into her life, and it was a strange sensation to say the least. It took a while for Tony to fully relax, but when he did, it was a nice kind of a hug, and both were reluctant to let go.

"You know, he asked me what I wanted for Christmas," Tony said, the two looking over towards Remy from their spot on the couch.

"What did you say?" Birdie asked, leaning her head against his shoulder, the two sharing a slice of her mother's pie that had been thrust into her hands.

Tony looked around at the room, looking at the family of people who were all laughing and talking, the noise much more calm than Thanksgiving, much less forced, much more loving. Looked at the robot that was playing with the boy who glanced over to smile at the woman who was leaned against his arm and sharing a pie with him, laughing as the pom-pom at the end of his Santa hat brushed against her reindeer antlers.

"I already got what I wanted."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Sorry this was so long, but there was a lot that needed to be acknowledged within this chapter, and I didn't realize it'd go on for so long, I'm sorry about that.

I had so much trouble trying to figure out if I wanted BUDDY to be a robot person like something that really looks like a person, or something like BB-8 or Baymax, but thanks to andrewgarfieIds I realized that we needed something that Remy cold hug, but not a creepy humanoid kind of creature, so I went with a light blue Baymax. It's not really Baymax, but it's got the same principle of being warm and fuzzy and healing and it's blue because that's a safe color and Tony was willing to omit his color scheme to show the boy some love.

I know I didn't make it very clear, but Birdie still really cares for Mark. That's why she was trying to convince Remy that he was still active in his life, still wanting to maybe repair what they lost. It's been slowly diminishing as time wore on, but it's hard to get over that, you know, don't hate her for having emotions.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!