12 Days of Christmas

Part 1 - Pure Love

Water is life. Lena's mother has said that to her often enough that the young woman hears it in her dreams, hears her mother's voice even though they are separated by so many miles. Yes, water is life and the key to their very essence. It's their elemental gift within Leviathan.

Though her mother can often be found by a lake or the ocean, Lena has always yearned for a less forgiving climate. Water may be life, but ice is art. The permanently bonded and hexagonally-shaped framework of molecules is, to Lena, perfect beauty. She thinks that perhaps in another life, she could have been a scientist, but that is not to be. Instead, she is a loner, separated even from the scarce representatives of her race, and that's how she likes it.

Well, that's how she 'liked' it.

She knows the words 'alone' and 'lonely' are similar in origin yet very different in definition. She has always enjoyed her time to herself, enjoyed her own thoughts and company more than the yapping of the others about matters she doesn't feel concern their kind. Those few times a year she's forced to appear at meetings are only made bearable by her mother's presence. The voices of the others grate on her like nails on a chalkboard, and she always leaves as soon as possible to return to her frozen home, her 'fortress of solitude' if you will.

Of late, something has been shifting inside her. She knows when it started and whom to blame. Two humans, scientists exploring the arctic, have taken up residence in her domain. They take samples and make notations but don't disturb the perfection of the land, so she lets them stay. She gives them mild days to examine their surroundings and cold nights that send them inside together. It's that 'together' that gains her attention.

She's never heard so much joy in laughter before. Those of her ilk laugh cruelly, tending to take their joy in the misery of others. With a gentle laugh, her mother tells her to ignore them but there's chiding in the sound her mother makes as if Lena was still a child. Still, the noise is yet another sound they make that drives her quickly home. These women, though, these human women, their laughs rise from their toes, rolls through their bellies, and burst out of them unhampered by any concerns. The oddest part is that there doesn't seem to be a target to their mirth. It's just joy, happiness too big to be contained in a mortal vessel, and Lena learns what envy is.

So she watches them. She covers herself in the swirling snow as the woman work and tries to learn what has inspired such happiness. She stares through their window as they sing together, the pale redhead playing guitar for the dark-skinned beauty. Each smile, gesture, and gentle touch they share is categorized in Lena's search for meaning. She walks through their home while they slumber at night, one bed empty while they curl up together in the other. It's a curious thing, as Lena would swear the temperature was not so cold for the need to share body heat... not that she's an expert on such things. One night, she peers intently into their domicile, her fingers to her own unkissed lips as the women share in a passionate affection that drives Lena to give them their privacy. That's the night she admits to herself that the words 'alone' and 'lonely' have become inexplicably closer in their definition.

How do you fill that void when those of your kind are so unappealing and humans so frail and short-lived? Lena finds the answer in what she loves most... the ice. She spends painstaking hours at work, more than she's given to projects five times as large, but every molecule must be perfect. The sun is just coming up as she finishes, and the light reflecting off that ice sculpture proves her time was well-spent. It's perfect. No, not it... she.

The woman stands proudly with her head thrown back, hands on hips, and a smile on her lips that makes Lena, for the first time, yearn for laughter. She's perfect, her crystalline structure flawless, and a smile tugs at Lena's lips. Those muscles are so unused she strains to hold it, dropping it from her mouth only to have it return, unbidden, moments later. Is this happiness? Somehow the world seems so much simpler and more complex at the same time, and Lena knows she's changed in a way from which she will never recover, not that she wants to.

Though a perfect creation, the statue stands lifeless against the backdrop of the frozen tundra, and Lena understands why her people have been thought of as gods throughout the centuries. So she steps forward, rising to her toes until her lips are mere inches from the frozen form, and leans forward. Should ice feel warm? She breathes out, pushing with her power and filling the statue with the very essence of the tundra: life where there should not be any, strength enough to battle impossible odds, a remembrance of all that is lost, and hope for each new tomorrow.

Nothing happens.

The statue remains a frozen block, still and strong against the icy wind. Unmoving. Unyielding. Beautiful but—

Is it hopeful thinking, Lena wonders, when she sees a minute shift in her work? Is it a trick of the light that gives the illusion of life? No. There's movement, movement that can't be dismissed as the play of nature against that crystal form. Above the wind, another sound, like a breath, reaches her ears. Once again, Lena has reason to smile.

It doesn't take long from that first, gentle shift to movement so clear it cannot be dismissed. Eyelids blink and snow that has gathered falls away. There's a crack and another, and striations appear across the frozen form. For a heart-stopping moment, Lena thinks she'll watch the destruction of her creation, but instead, it's like a shell being shed. Bits of ice fall away to reveal color: pink lips, rosy cheeks, hair like gold, and eyes as blue as the deep ocean.

When this maiden born of ice takes her first step, she nearly falls, and Lena rushes to grip hands that hold her back with such strength yet gently. When she speaks, Lena understands why words exist, why ears were made for sound. Her voice is a song Lena has unknowingly wanted her whole life.

"You... I know you," she says, each word carefully formed from between rose petal lips. "I know you, but I don't know your name. Who are you?"

"Lena. Hello, Lena." And Lena is certain she could spend centuries with her name falling from those lips and never tire of the sound. There's a crinkle between the woman's brows Lena is certain she didn't create, but if perfection can be improved upon, this does it. "What's my name?"

A very good question and one Lena probably should have answered for herself before her new and curious companion came to life. Still, it only takes a moment before she lands upon an answer so obvious that she wonders why it took any thought at all.

"Kara," Lena says. "Your name is Kara. To the Greek it means pure and to the Cornish, love. That's who you are."

"Kara." When that smile reappears and reaches Kara's eyes, Lena knows she chose well. "What now?"

There is a now in the moment and a now that is every moment going forward, and Lena finds she wants to spend them all with Kara. "We go home. Would you like that?"

One hand extended, Kara intertwines her fingers with Lena's. "Take me home."

There's a strange warmth that covers the arctic that night, and lights dance in the skies. Just a few miles away, Alex and Kelly note the oddities as they prepare their report, unaware of the part they played in inspiring love to bloom even in this harsh climate and a frozen heart.