On the first day of Christmas my true love sent to me...

A Partridge in a Pear Tree

Hurt/Comfort/Family

Old City Sanctuary, 2009

She had purposefully avoided the present-laden Christmas tree in the rec room all day, determinedly turning off any music player or radio which dared to blare out carols or Yule-tide top ten lists.

Magnus knew no one was doing this to her on purpose, but it still made her glare at the offending decorations, and feel incomprehensibly irritable at the thought of being in the same room as... well, anyone. The only thing stopping her from laying into them was the thought of their faces dropping to her own, Scrooge-like levels, and twisting her heart strings until it became unbearable. Henry in particular… she just couldn't make this harder for him than it was already.

Sighing heavily, bracing herself for leaving the shelter of her office – she couldn't wait for this Christmas to be over. Couldn't wait until the thought of that present she'd bought nine months ago, in anticipation of this day, no longer mattered. Its recipient would never have the chance to reproach her for being sentimental, or smile at the memory of a shared moment down an unprepossessing cave in the heart of the Ural Mountains. It was the only present she'd managed to buy this year, and she had no desire to open her own.

Almost bumping into someone Magnus looked up with a start, "Will! I'm sorry I-"

"Hey, where have you been all day?" he smiled, unassuming, guileless, "Biggie's getting annoyed – the Turkey's getting cold and we were sort of waiting on you to cut it."

She couldn't help the blank, unresponsive blink which filled the second of recoil that her mind managed at the thought of engaging in the festivities. There was even a tremble of terror in there… at being exposed, of being vulnerable, in a place where there were so many beautiful memories. Her eyes had grown sad and slightly moist at the mere thought, so that Will managed to put two and two together, and started to backpedal almost immediately.

"That is… if you want, I mean, you know, I could… do it… or Biggie. Kate keeps wanting to appropriate the knife but none of us are too sure she won't do something we'll all regret."

Helen gave him a look, "Like what precisely?"

He shrugged, hands drifting into his jean pockets, "Show off and end up lodging a knife in someone's eye? She's a little ahead on the booze," he started miming knocking back a few shots.

She shook her head, a little more reproachfully than she would normally have liked, and started to walk down the corridor, towards the elevator. "She's perfectly capable Will; you should give her more credit."

"Yeah, we know. That's what we're worried about."

In the lift she made sure to position herself to face him, and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Look… if you don't want to join us Magnus we understand, it's just… it's weird celebrating without you. And we…" she looked away, almost knowing that what he was going to say was going to affect her, even before he cleared his throat, "we don't want you to feel alone. You know, after such a rough year."

She smiled sadly to herself. Dr Will Zimmerman still had the capacity to be endearingly naïve at times. How could she explain it? She was always alone. Even in a room full of friends and admirers. She was unique, her experiences could never be completely shared – they took up too many lifetimes.

Ashley had been the closest thing she'd ever held to her own heart, and even with her, as a mother, there were things she could not share, parts of her she could not directly reveal. Her immortality, her Sanctuary: these were the two bars to a cross which only she could bear, and each Christmas as the years rolled relentlessly on, there were more skulls of the people she cared about forming a hill which only she could keep climbing. In the end, everybody died, even the dearest of friends who had lived such a very, very long time...

"Hey, earth to Magnus?" Will sounded concerned, so she glanced up at him and he tried to give his most reassuring smile.

The elevator rolled to a stop, the doors swept open and the two of them merely stared at each other. Here he was, her 'protégé', trying to take care of her, offering her friendship for a shield, rather than tears and regret.

Her smile was a pale shadow of her usual gleam, "That's very kind of you."

"I sense a 'but'…" he posited as they left the elevator, still heading in the direction of the dining room – and the labs.

"No 'but's," she carried on in the direction he hoped she would take, "If one of my oldest friends has gone to all the effort of cooking Christmas dinner, the least I can do is show my face."

Will did a double take, almost as if he was going to ask whether it really was as simple as that, before, mouth half-open, he decided against putting his foot in it and wisely let it go. It was Magnus, why did he even allow himself to be surprised by her anymore? "Great," he followed her into the dining room, hoping this was a positive sign.

The sight which greeted Helen shouldn't have made her throat close-up or her stomach flop, but it did. Her heart literally melted in appreciation: the warm light of the candles, the perfect table setting, Bigfoot and Henry opposite each other, either side of the head seat – left empty for her. Not to mention the delicious smell wafting off of the perfectly golden bird at the center.

"Goodness," She managed after about a minute trying to regain some composure.

"Happy Christmas Doc!" Henry launched enthusiastically, almost desperately, as if he'd been holding it in all day.

"Yeah, Happy Xmas Magnus," This from Freelander, who was wearing her paper crown with some measure of sarcasm, "don't think you're getting out of wearing the ridiculous cracker hats. You either Zimmerman," She pointed at the hatless psychoanalyst.

Biggie grunted.

Magnus' grin widened a touch, and as she rounded the table she lightly placed a hand on the Sasquatch's hairy arm, "It seems you've outdone yourself Old Friend."

He made a grateful sound, "Huh, well 'm glad someone appreciates it..."

"Hey yeah, we'll appreciate it more when it's in our stomachs," Kate complained. "Please don't tell me you've got to say grace or something as well!"

Helen chuckled, taking her seat as Will took his, and glancing down the table at her new, slightly different family. They were looking at her with relief, as though they'd really missed her in the last few, precious hours. As though her presence had been something not just wanted, but looked for, needed. Henry in particular, looked pleased as punch, and the smile currently reaching into his eyes, through every muscle in his face, was starting to chase away the bitter-sweetness of Helen's Christmas ghosts. He hadn't been this pleased at Christmas since she bought him his first personal computer - all to himself.

He might be a man now, but he was still, in many ways, Helen's son – and she had spent Christmas Day avoiding him as much as anyone else. How wrong she had been. How cold, to abandon him on Christmas, when she could've been there for him: when they could have been there for each other. She looked away in shame, momentarily, and then glanced over toward Kate, "I'll make it quick." She said, prompting Will and Henry – the only two who seemed to care – to bow their heads. It was kind of adorable. "Thank you for the ones who love us, and never let us forget that they do."

Author's Note:

So for those who didn't already know the Partridge in a Pear Tree is a metaphor for Christ on the Cross. I hope no one who gets the references feels I'm blaspheming or anything. It's all just metaphor and artistic comparison, no offence is meant, and I'm not particularly religious myself - just as a disclaimer there.

Also DISCLAIMER - I own nothing and no one, and I make no money! Lots of love!