Disclaimer: The Tomorrow People is the property of the CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

~ X ~

There are all kinds of gifts people give each other. Sometimes the best ones aren't material things.

~ X ~

The girl, tightly clutching a doll in her arms, bounced up and down, barely able to contain her nervous energy. Charlotte normally wanted nothing to do with going topside, preferring the security of the underground lair. But today was different. Today she was going above with John.

It all started this morning. Cara, frowning, stood with arms crossed, tapping a booted toe while she looked around at her people. The holidays were approaching, and it was a tough time for many of the lair's inhabitants. This time of year was a potent reminder of everything that had been left behind. Morale was low, and tempers flared with the slightest provocation. People alternated between lethargy and fierce arguments over insignificant issues that would normally be overlooked.

She nodded decisively, apparently reaching a decision. "Let's decorate for Christmas."

"Huh!" Russell, dozing on the sofa she stood behind, grunted and straightened up, trying to give the impression he was alert and listening. "Right. Sure."

Charlotte, lurking in hearing range, giggled, knowing he had absolutely no idea what Cara said.

The leader, long inured to Russell's ways, simply kept on talking. "Most of the people down here celebrate Christmas. So let's decorate. Maybe we can raise people's spirits." She lightly nudged his foot with her heeled boot. "Get us a tree."

Russell yawned and stretched, eventually getting up and snapping a playful salute at Cara. "Yes, Sir, Boss, Sir." Wide awake now, he needed only several strides before teleporting out.

When he returned an hour and a half later, he was carrying a shiny, white with fluorescent undertones tree already strung with lights and decorations. A small group of interested people gathered around, but they did not appear impressed.

Charlotte worked her way around the bigger folks to see, but stopped short at the sight of the white thing. Her expression wavered between astonishment and distaste. "Isn't it supposed to be green?"

Mike, eying it judiciously, pronounced, "Now, that's a sad excuse for a tree."

Murmurs from the others gathered around seemed to support him. "Trashy." "Tacky."

John's disparaging tone summed it up. "That's not a tree. It's a piece of plastic imitating a tree."

"Cut me some slack," Russell, not appreciating the criticism, defended himself. "You try finding a real tree you can steal in Manhattan. I got yelled at by five separate people in Central Park. Threatened to call the cops." He stabbed his finger at his critics. "There's people everywhere. The streets are mobbed. As it is, I'm pretty sure an Ultra agent picked me out."

John, hands on hips, eye downcast, appeared lost in thought. When he finally raised his eyes, he said, "I know where I can get us a tree."

Russell's face scrunched up. "Where – Oh!"

He picked up the mental picture John sent at the same time Cara did. She shook her head, disliking the idea.

During the three way mental conversation, Charlotte piped up, "Let me come with you!"

John reassured Cara and Russell. "It will be safe."

"But how will you feel about going there?" Cara sent the thought only to John, concern for him bleeding through.

"These people need something to get excited about. I'll do it for them."

Charlotte, oblivious to the telepathic conversation, danced around pleading, "Please, please, please!"

John, suddenly becoming aware of what Charlotte was asking, snapped at her louder than he meant to. "You are not coming." As soon as he said it, he could have kicked himself for speaking so harshly, but the thought of revisiting his intended site set his nerves on edge. Cara sent him an understanding look. She knew better than anyone else how agitated he was at the thought of returning to the place he had in mind. He was only contemplating it because he agreed with her. People here needed a boost.

Charlotte looked so hurt that several people jumped to champion her.

"Let the kid go."

"Aw, come on!"

Mike, who had left behind a couple of little sisters, rose to her defense. "You just said it will be safe. Either it is or it isn't. If it is, take her."

Charlotte, hopeful now, begged, "Please! I'll do everything you say."

John, looking around at the various faces and knowing it was only for personal reasons that he didn't want Charlotte along, finally shrugged, accepting defeat. He looked to Cara for the final say. She bit her lip, wanting to say no, but at the same time feeling obligated to allow it. The whole point of this was to rouse people out of their apathy, to give them something to get excited about in a good way. She had clearly done that. If she denied Charlotte the chance to go she risked sending them spiraling back down into indifference or worse arousing more anger. She reluctantly nodded at John.

He turned to the girl with a rueful smile. "Looks like you're coming."

Charlotte clapped her hands together in delight. Smiles appeared on more than one face and several people congratulated her.

Now here she was, warmly dressed in a new winter coat, scarf, gloves, and boots. Russell had gone back out and returned with two armfuls of clothes. Cara had scolded him for overdoing it, but he had refused to accept her reproaches explaining he wasn't sure what size Charlotte wore, and he would give the leftovers to a homeless shelter.

Charlotte shifted from foot to foot, humming with excitement. She was terrified at the thought of going out in the open at the same time she was exhilarated and proud to go above on a mission with John. She felt completely justified in calling this outing a mission. Maybe she couldn't go on food raids, but in her mind a Christmas tree raid was every bit as important.

Just when she thought she might scream from anticipation, John, trailed by Cara and Russell, emerged from Tim's room. He grinned when he saw her and then looked puzzled. "What's with the coat and boots? Are you going somewhere?"

Charlotte's eyes widened and she protested. "You didn't forget did you? We're supposed to go . . . "

She frowned as Cara and Russell started laughing. "You're teasing me," she accused the blonde man.

"Yup."

Cara walked up to fuss over her, adjusting her scarf as if it wasn't perfect already. "Do exactly what John tells you, okay?"

Charlotte nodded earnestly. "I will."

John, now carrying a hand saw, came up behind her to reassure the leader. "Stop worrying. We'll be fine."

Cara turned a frown on him, eying his black leather jacket. "Are you dressed warm enough?"

"Yes, mother, I am."

His reply made Charlotte snicker, and she quickly covered her mouth with a hand to hide it. Russell earned a nasty look from Cara when he commented under his breath, "That's our mommy."

"You sure this is safe?" Cara anxiously asked one more time.

John cupped the back of her head with one hand while planting a kiss on her forehead. "I'm sure."

He reached out a hand to Charlotte, but halted when he noticed the doll. "Charlie, maybe you should leave her here. We don't want her left behind if we have to move quickly."

Charlotte and Cara immediately objected.

Cara, alarmed now, raised her voice. "I thought you said it was safe?"

Charlotte complained, "But Russell got her a new coat as a present. If she doesn't come tonight she may never get to wear it."

John briefly closed his eyes and then shot a bitter look at Russell. "Thanks."

Russell threw up his arms and walked away muttering to himself. "Who declared this pick on Russell day? Everyone hates the tree I manage to get at great risk to myself, I might add. Then I bring back clothes like I'm told, and I get yelled at because I bring back too much. Then I try to get something special for Charlie, and I'm in trouble over that. Excuse me for living."

John pinched the bridge of his nose and decided it was best to just get out of there. He yelled after Russell, "Sorry." He turned to Cara and reassured her, "Everything will be fine."

Before she could raise any other objections, he put a hand on Charlotte's shoulder and teleported them out.

They landed in a rural area, not a road or house in sight. The night air was just chill enough to make Charlotte glad she had on her coat and gloves, but not so cold her face was uncomfortable. The moon was full, giving them enough light to see by, and making the flashlight John had in his jacket pocket unnecessary. She inhaled in noisy deep breaths, nostrils flaring, as she savored the smell of fresh living things, so different from the stale chemical smells of the Citadel and the rather musty smell of the subway station.

"Where are we?" she asked, slowly turning in a circle to gaze at the nearby bushes and scrub trees.

"A place I had to scout out a while ago. Far enough from the city that Ultra can't detect our signatures, but close enough that I can reach it. I needed–." John abruptly cut off what he was going to say, but Charlotte, her attention elsewhere, didn't notice.

"Ooh! Look! That little tree is perfect." Charlotte pointed at a small perfectly shaped pine a short distance from them. She started towards it.

"No! Not here." John caught her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. Seeing his abruptness surprised the girl, he quickly softened his tone and amended his statement. "Let's look around. I'm sure there's others that are better."

"Okay." She was perfectly agreeable with the plan. It was a beautiful night and the full moon made the area seem special, almost magical. She happily enjoyed the unaccustomed feel of a breeze moving across her face.

They weaved their way through the undergrowth and open patches, the thin layer of snow crunching under their feet. She admired her new boots as she walked. They saw a number of trees, but as they walked closer to each there was always a problem; this trunk was too thick to saw through or this one had fungus or a bare spot. A couple of really promising trees were growing in thickets so when they were pulled free they had grown lopsided.

"How come you don't like fake trees?" Charlotte ventured to ask, looking sideways at John. One of her favorite things was to get John to tell her stories about his life.

The bright moonlight allowed her to see a smile on his face. "Cause every Christmas while I was at Ultra, we – I would go with Jedikiah to pick out a Christmas tree." He shook his head remembering. "It always amazed me. Jed and a real tree. His apartments were always, ah , sterile to say the least. Really bare. No dust. No dirt. No clutter. Almost no decorations. Yet the guy would go out into the woods and cut down a live tree."

He looked at Charlie and shrugged. "He always ended up with pine needles on the floor and we'd spill the water you add to keep the tree from drying out. He had these polished hardwood floors, but he didn't care. The tinsel ended up everywhere. He always brought some cheap bulbs we could hang and we'd end up breaking some. But all he'd do is grin.

"I asked him about it when I got older. He told me he believed in tradition. He and his brother always went with his grandfather and father to cut a tree. Then when his granddad died they continued with their dad. He said he wanted to pass it on."

John shook his head, talking more to himself than Charlotte. "He'd take us out to dinner, and we'd each get to pick a movie to go to as a present."

John spotting another potential Christmas tree, strode over to examine and then ultimately reject it. He looked over at a now red nosed Charlotte and stopped, hands on hips. "You okay?"

"My face is a little cold." She wrinkled her brow and nose as she thought and then said, "We haven't seen anything as nice as that first tree. Can we go back and get it?"

John hesitated for a moment and then nodded agreement. "Sure, let's head back."

Charlie kept looking curiously at John as they walked along. He noticed. "Whattya wanna ask me?"

"Are you reading my mind?" she asked suspiciously.

"Nope. Your face. It's got question coming all over it."

She laughed and gave a little skip, only to slip on a frozen patch of ice. He caught and steadied her. "Easy there, girl!"

"It sounded like someone else was with you at Christmas. Did you have a friend?"

The smile vanished from John's face leaving it somber. Seeing the change, Charlotte quickly said, "Never mind. I'm sorry I asked."

He sighed so deeply she could see the rise and fall of his chest. "First of all, you don't have to be sorry. And yeah, there was another kid. His name was Killian McCrane. He was there when I was growing up. He and I were always the ones left at holidays. The rest of the kids got to go home from the –," a harsh laugh punctuated his statement, "—school for gifted children. I forgot that's what they told the parents. That their kids were in a special school. Tuition paid through scholarships." Another bitter laugh escaped him as he remembered.

John stared at the ground as they walked. "Killian never had a chance. Such a crappy life. Beatings. Then Ultra. The program." After a moment he whispered under his breath, "And then me."

Charlotte leaned in, resting her head against John's arm. "I'm sorry, John."

He shook himself and hugged the girl to his side. "Don't be. At least I had a Christmas. I doubt you had anything at the Citadel."

Now it was Charlotte's face that was grave. "I think I remember something from before, but I don't want to force it. Afraid to remember. Afraid . . . " Her voice trailed away.

John finished her sentence for her. "Afraid that if you remember what you had, you couldn't bear the pain of knowing what you've lost."

"You always understand," Charlotte said gratefully. "You're the only one."

They had retraced their steps by now and were back to where they had first landed. The little tree was there, still looking perfect.

"Wait here," John cautioned. "The ground's really uneven."

Charlotte watched as John knelt to saw the tree trunk as close to the earth as possible. The snow had blown away here and the bare ground was exposed. The area close to John looked depressed, like it was sinking. She was fascinated by it because the outline was so strangely regular, a perfect rectangle with absolutely straight lines.

When John finished, he eased the little tree down to the ground so it wouldn't be damaged. As he rose from his knees his eyes were drawn to the spot. He quickly turned away and then as if pulled by some unseen force turned back.

Charlotte watched, consumed with curiosity, as he stood, head bowed, face a blank mask, for a few moments.

Finally John raised his hands and using a sideways sweeping motion moved a mixture of fallen leaves and branches to cover the low spot. He finished with a downward motion of his hands compressing the debris. Charlie though she had never seen his face look so sad.

Suddenly, Charlotte had a flash of inspiration. She hesitated, but John always encouraged her to ask questions. "Is that a grave?" she timidly asked.

John's eyebrows rose, but he answered gravely. "Yeah, it is."

"How did you know it was there?"

"Because I dug it and buried the person."

Charlie searched his bleak face. "Is that Killian?"

"How did . . .? Who's been spreading stories?"

Charlotte tried to suppress her thoughts, but John read her mind. "I am going to kill Russell."

"No," Charlotte pleaded. "He didn't know I was listening." She defended him. "I like his stories about you. Besides, he was really proud of you cause you went all bad ass on this guy."

"Charlotte!" John admonished. "Don't talk like that."

"Russell said it. Not me," Charlotte protested. Seeing how upset he looked, she walked close and nudged him with her body. "You know you can tell me," she whispered. "I might understand."

"It's just that . . . Like I said Killian never had a chance," John spoke slowly. "Raised In foster homes. Ultra was heaven to him. Plenty of food. Fighting was encouraged. Finally winning praise. Then he volunteered for the Annex project." John's voice trailed off and Charlie watching him knew he wasn't here with her anymore. His head shook almost imperceptibly from side to side, and his lips opened briefly, then closed. He was back at Ultra, perhaps seeing old ghosts and demons.

Charlotte knew all about ghosts and demons, but hers came to visit her when she tried to sleep. "You volunteered too," she quietly prompted.

He shook himself and continued. "Yeah. We both wanted to please Jedikiah. Killian was the only one on the team who understood me." He swallowed and nervously wet his lips. "And I had to kill him."

"I'm sorry," Charlotte whispered.

"You keep saying you're sorry. Don't be. It's not your fault."

Charlotte, wanting to give John something, diffidently said, "You did give him peace, John. And he's in a nice place. He's not in a cage."

A scalding hot tear spilled over and ran down John's cheek. "Yeah. I did. Thanks, Charlie. You lose something of yourself when you kill. Russell may say it's cool, but it eats at you. You suffer. Thanks for reminding me that he's beyond that now."

John self-consciously wiped the tear off his cheek with the back of his hand. "I must seem pretty lame to you."

Charlotte, tucking her doll under one arm, peeled off her glove to clutch John's cold hand. She sent him a mental image of how she saw him; how brave and strong he seemed to her. "Thank you for my gift."

John's face was puzzled. "I didn't get you a gift yet."

She lifted her solemn face to his, her voice earnest. "You showed me it's okay to cry. It doesn't mean you aren't strong." She took a deep breath. "I've screamed. I've been mad. I've been afraid, but I haven't really cried for Errol or Migs. Or the others. I think . . . I can't do it right now, but someday . . ." She released his hand to point to her head. "I've locked so much away. But I know someday I have to let it out. I need to cry about it."

She gave him a small smile. "Because of you, I know it's okay to cry. That it doesn't mean I'm not strong. I know I'll be okay cause you're okay."

He nodded. "You're right. You have to cry, and that's not even the worst part of what you have to live with. The guilt's the worst."

"I know." Charlie buried her head against his arm and spoke into John's sleeve.

John pulled her into his arms. "It's so hard to deal with."

"Thanks for not saying 'you're just a kid. You don't have anything to be guilty about'." She bitterly mimicked the words she had been told over and over again.

"It doesn't work that way, though, does it?" John said. "I keep asking myself why did I live when all those others died. If I had gone before Killian would I have been the one who was insane? I know Jedikiah deliberately took him before me. Why did I deserve to live?"

Charlie said, "Errol gave his life for me. All he ever wanted to do, the only thing he ever talked about, was to get back to his wife. He gave it up for me. And all the others left behind. I try not to think about what's happening to them. I . . ." She choked up and couldn't continue.

John rubbed her back in slow circles. "Breathe. When it all becomes too much, you just concentrate on breathing. It works."

They stood that way for a few more moments, taking comfort in the fact that they weren't alone.

Finally, John said, "I'm ready to go. Let's take our perfect tree and head home."

"Can I add the water to keep it from drying out? And decorate it? And leave tinsel everywhere?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Charlie."

~ FIN ~