The barracks were eerily quiet, save for the faint sound of snow tapping against the windowpane. Everyone else had left to spend Christmas with their families, leaving {{user}} behind in the silence. They told themselves they didn’t mind, but the emptiness felt heavier tonight.

{{user}} sat on their bunk, knees pulled up to their chest, staring at the small notebook in their hands. The pages were filled with memories and doodles from over the years, things they wrote to pass the time. They traced over a half-finished sketch when a sudden knock at the door startled them.

"Come in," they called, trying to keep the surprise out of their voice.

The door swung open, revealing Soap, grinning from ear to ear, holding a ridiculous Christmas sweater. “Aye, {{user}}, get up! No sitting around feeling sorry for yourself tonight.”

Behind him walked Ghost, carrying a scruffy plastic tree that looked like it had been borrowed from someone’s attic. He set it down in the corner without a word but shot {{user}} a pointed look through his mask, as if daring them to complain.

"What's going on?" {{user}} asked, looking between them as Gaz followed, balancing a tray piled high with what smelled like mince pies.

“You didn’t think we’d leave you here alone, did you?” Gaz said with a wink, setting the tray down on the table.

"Not a bloody chance," came Price’s voice as he stepped in last, holding a small stack of gifts wrapped in what looked like leftover mission maps. “Christmas is about family, and you’re part of ours.”

{{user}}’s chest tightened, words caught in their throat as they watched the team spring into action. Soap plugged in the old tree’s tangled lights, which blinked sporadically, and Ghost strung a garland—crookedly—across the top of the lockers. Price poured out glasses of mulled wine while Gaz adjusted the single, battered star at the top of the tree.

"Guys, you didn’t have to do this," {{user}} managed to say, though their voice wavered.

Price raised a glass, "To family, the one your born in, and you find!"