I honestly don't know where this came from. This is not my 'thing' at all. But what the hell, right? Some of you will see where this is going straight away. Hopefully it's not too obvious. Thanks for giving it a shot (if you do). Fingers crossed it turns out well.

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring… except Nick Miller. He laid on his childhood bed, bundled tightly in a ratty old navy blue robe that once belonged to his father, twirling his cell phone anxiously in his hands. It was just past ten o'clock, but here he was, in bed earlier than he had been in well over a decade. A number of factors contributed to this early bedtime, not the least of them being the company he was keeping. His mother was an early riser on most days, and an exceptionally early riser on Christmas morning. There were also no children in the house this year, and no children meant no need to find a way to sneak presents under the tree at odd hours of the night. Bonnie Miller had gone to bed well over an hour earlier, assuring her ability to get an even earlier than usual jump on the following morning.

Further complicating matters was his brother. Jamie had, along with his fiancé Deandre, recently moved back in with Bonnie under the guise of helping her through the grieving period. It's not that Jamie's heart wasn't in the right place, and Nick didn't necessarily object to Bonnie having a little company around the house. But the truth was, Jamie was saving up for a wedding, and the arrangement was mutually beneficial. Bonnie provided cheap room and board, along with several home cooked meals throughout the week. Jamie and Deandre provided not just company, but someone for Bonnie to take care of. And just that day, Nick had witnessed first-hand how Jamie's unintended hijinks had helped give his mother added reason to get up and face the day.

Earlier that evening, as Nick helped Bonnie with some early preparations for Christmas dinner, Jamie took it upon himself to surprise his mother with an outdoor lighting display that was sure to make her smile. Unfortunately, Jamie did not take into account the fact that the several thousand Christmas lights he had haphazardly strung about the house and yard could potentially require a little more electricity than their modest suburban home was able to support. It was just past six o'clock when the circuits blew, leaving the Miller household without electricity.

Bonnie and Deandre had searched the house for flashlights and batteries, trying to find what they could before they completely lost the daylight. Unable to find but a single flashlight, they had been forced to rely on an abundance of barely scented off brand candles, leftovers from a less that lucrative racket Walt had tried to cash in on years previous. While they were busy hunting for sources of light, Nick and Jamie had spent the early part of the evening lugging the three large kerosene heaters the Miller's owned from the garage to the house. Luckily, the temperatures that evening were barely forecasted to dip into the high 20s, so the risk of burst pipes and the permanent damage that would go along with them were not a concern. Keeping warm for the next 48 hours or so, until an electrician could be bothered to come take a look, was.

So Nick sat on his bed, his room illuminated in candle light, staring at his cell phone. Perhaps the biggest reason Nick planned to turn in early this evening was because he was alone. He had texted Jess several times throughout the day, and had gotten no response. He imagined, at that moment, she was probably just finishing dinner with her Mom at some favorite childhood restaurant up in Portland. He wasn't certain how it worked, of course, but his assumption was that Christmas Eve would be sort of a girl's night with Joan, while Christmas Day would entail Jess going over to Bob's and making him a modest, but delicious, home cooked meal. Jess loved to take care of people.

Nick again looked at his phone and frowned. His battery was getting quite low, and he was now without a means to charge it. Not that he necessarily expected to hear from Jess that night. Not after the awkward way they had left things. He set his phone next to the candle on his nightstand and reclined back onto his bed as he recounted how things had gone down.

It had been just two nights earlier. Nick was in the loft, relaxing on the couch with a Heisler. In order to earn a little extra holiday cash, he had just come off back to back double shifts at the bar, and he was looking forward to doing absolutely nothing for a few hours. It had been a rather slow night, so he had been able to leave work a little early, but the fact remained: he had spent 24 of the last 48 hours working at the bar, and he was looking for a little precious alone time. Winston had gone to meet his family in Phoenix, where his sister was playing in a week-long WNBA exhibition series, and Schmidt had reluctantly traveled back to Long Island to visit his mother. Jess was over at Cece's, wrapping her Christmas presents, and wasn't expecting him home for another two hours. Nick would have plenty of time to unwind and veg on his own before she came home, and he was looking forward to both occasions.

But he hadn't been on the couch 5 minutes before Jess came through the door, toting an armful of newly wrapped Christmas presents.

"Oh, hey Nick! I didn't think you'd be home yet."

"Yeah, got off early," Nick said, as he stood up. "Can I give you a hand?"

"No-no! Some of this stuff is for you, so," Jess said, walking the presents into her room before appearing back in the hallway. "No peeking."

"Jess I'll never understand you and your undying love of all things Christmas."

"And I'll never understand how you don't love it. I mean, there isn't even a tree up in here! What is that?"

"I'm sorry, Jess, it's just not my thing. Never was, not since I was a little boy. And as for the tree, I usually leave that up to Schmidt."

"Well, it kinda bums me out a bit. Doesn't even feel like Christmas around here this year," she said, putting her hands on her hips.

"Is that somehow my fault?"

"Nick, that's not what I'm…"

"Because, I'm sorry, but not all of us love the Holidays, Jess. For some of us, it's just a time of missed flights, guilt trips, and spending money you don't really have."

Jess took a deep breath to calm herself. Nick was leaving for Chicago the next day, and she planned to enjoy her last night with him before he left. That was her plan, anyway.

"Besides," Nick said, taking a sip of his beer. "I never got the point of dragging a living tree out of the earth and throwing a lot of plastic on it before watching it die in your living room."

"Oh, C'mon Nick. I know you don't love Christmas, but you aren't going to change my mind about loving it."

"Jess, I'm not…"

"The music, the presents, time with your loved ones. I really don't see the problem."

"Meh," Nick said, shrugging.

"And you? You grew up in Chicago, where you get actual snow on Christmas! It must've been so beautiful!"

"Bah"

"Did you just say… Bah?"

"Bah."

"Oh… my … God, Nick!"

"What's the big deal, Jess? I don't care if you love Christmas. You can love it all you want. I just can't promise that I ever will."

"Obviously," Jess murmured under her breath as she folded her arms and sulked towards her room. "Wouldn't even invite me to come home with you."

"Are you kidding me?" Nick said, following after her. "Jess, what's the problem?"

The entered her room, and Nick couldn't help but take note of the pile of elaborately wrapped and impeccably stacked presents on her bed, complete with ribbons, bows, and tinsel.

"Nothing, Nick. Let's just forget it okay?"

"Jess, we've talked about this. It's just going to be me, my Mom, and my brother. We'll eat ham. We'll complain about the Bears. We'll do some dishes and we'll go to bed early. Nothing worth dragging you to Chicago for."

"That's hardly the point, Nick."

"I don't get it," Nick said, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "You've got your own family to go see. Your mom seems like she's the type to go nuts over Christmas. And Bob… well, not Bob so much, but you'll see him, too."

"That's not the point, Nick," Jess said sadly.

"I guess I'll never understand, Jess. Your Christmas will be way, way more fun than mine. If that's not the point… the sharing, the family, all that… humbug… then what is?"

Jess sighed sadly and walked over to Nick, putting her hands on his shoulder.

"The point is, I invited you to come to Portland and enjoy all the 'humbug' with me. And I knew you wouldn't come. I knew it was important for you to go be with Bonnie for your first… y'know… your first Christmas without… Walt."

Nick looked down at the mention of his father. Jess paused a moment before continuing.

"But you… you never even invited me to come to Chicago with you. "

"Jess, I'm telling you, it's not like… a fun thing you're missing. It's going to be totally lame, probably a little sad. You don't want to be there."

Jess smiled a sad smile and took her arms off Nick's shoulders.

"Still not really the point, Nick."

"Jess, I…"

Jess continued to smile before turning toward the door.

"It's okay, Nick. Maybe… maybe next year. I… I'll be right back. Got a few more presents in the car."

"Jess…"

"It's fine, I'll be right back," she said, and left the room.

Nick sat in his childhood room in Chicago and recalled the rest of the evening. Jess came back a few minutes later, but the conversation was not continued. They watched a little TV on the couch together before turning in. They kissed goodnight, even holding each other at times throughout the night, but there was still something off. The next morning, Jess acted as though nothing had happened. They got up, had a quick breakfast, and she drove him to the airport. Before leaving him at the gate, Jess had hugged and kissed him, and she even smiled one of her signature, bright smiles before waving goodbye. Still, Nick knew that he had screwed something up.

He looked again at his phone and considered calling her. He instead powered it down to save the battery. He'd call her tomorrow, he thought. She was more of a Christmas day girl, after all. He set his phone back on the nightstand and picked up the candle. He pulled the robe tight around his chest and stepped into a pair of slippers at the foot of the bed. He held the candle in one hand as he went to the door of his bedroom and quietly cracked it open. He crept quietly through the hall and down the stairs, then into the kitchen to the refrigerator where he pulled out a beer. He set the beer and the candle on the kitchen counter as he opened a cabinet next to the sink. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey and eyed the level. This would do.

He grabbed a small tumbler out of the cupboard and poured himself a small shot of whiskey. If he was going to fall asleep in any reasonable time frame, he was going to need a little help. He downed the shot quickly, and poured himself another, longer pour. He placed the bottle back into the cabinet, picked up the beer from the counter and slipped it into the pocket of his robe. He then grabbed the candle and quietly made his way back up the steps to his room. As he approached the door to his room, he began to feel the warmth of the whiskey in his belly. He smiled as he entered the room, and quickly set the beer and the candle on the nightstand as he closed the door behind him. He took a sip of from his tumbler as he walked around to the other side of the bed.

He took a second to look out the window. Despite still being relatively early in the night, the street was dark. No lights on in any of his neighbors' houses, which seemed a little odd. Odder still was the fact that nobody on his street seemed to have put up Christmas lights this year. All that lit the street were the dim street lights that were planted in the tree lawn of every fourth house on the block. As Nick pondered the scene before him, a large gust of wind howled past the window, rattling the shutters and shaking the house itself. Nick instinctively took a step back from the window before finishing his whiskey with a final gulp. He sat down on the bed and reached over to swap his glass with the bottle of beer on the nightstand. He turned back to the window and took a sip of the beer. His head had started to feel a little light, and his plan to aid his sleep seemed to be working. He slowly yawned and rolled his neck. He let his eyes close for a few moments until a noise snapped them open.

From the hallway he heard footsteps. Slow, deliberate footsteps. They continued from down the hall, steadily moving towards his room. Turning expectantly toward the door, Nick waited. He knew Jamie felt bad about blowing the circuits in the house, and he wasn't really surprised he'd waited until their Mom was in bed before coming to properly apologize. So Nick waited. Jamie sure was taking his time, Nick thought, as he shifted his entire body to the other side of the bed, facing the door. As Nick listened, he noticed a different sound he hadn't previously: the sound of softly clanking metal, bouncing off itself, in time with the footsteps. Clank. Clank. Clank. Nick furrowed his brow, curious to what that noise could be. Clank. Clank. Clank. The footsteps stopped just outside Nick's door. He waited for the knock.

The knock didn't come. Nick scratched his head, wondering if his ears (in tandem with the whiskey) were playing tricks on him. He squinted hard at the door, trying to see through the darkened room. The footsteps had stopped, and so had the clanking. He slowly lifted the candle from the nightstand and held it in the direction of the door. As he waited for his eyes to adjust, he started to see something.

In the wood grain of the door, a shape started to form. And from that shape, a figure. And from that figure… a face. Nick's eyes got wide as he tried to blink the image away. His instinct was to run, but he sat, frozen with fear. The face slowly took form. It was a man, an older man with grey hair. As the faced continued to contort and from, the hair on its head grew longer, into ear length waves. As Nick sat paralyzed, the face began to become familiar. The hair, the eyes, the dimples… the sliver, push broom mustache. The fear left Nick, but the confusion did not. After a few more moments, the form had completed its materialization. And there he stood before Nick, wearing a forest green suit over a black sweater, three gold chains of varying thickness and style around his neck. A few loud coughs lurched his head forward before he straightened up. He opened his eyes, and smiled widely at Nick.

"Pop?" Nick managed to eke out.

"Hey there, Nickels. We need to talk."