I wasn't sure If the footprints were real anymore or I had created them from staring at the blinding white snow too long. Perhaps it was just the reflections from the frost on my window. Most likely it was left by the groundskeeper and they were filling in with fresh powder. That would explain the slight rust color to the top of the snow. He always carried around that rusted spade and bucket as if it made him look more active and productive. The radiator gave a loud rattle and bang. It wheezed as unenthusiastically as me. "You done with this place too?"I asked it without looking to it. Maybe it was rude to ask a question without facing your partner, but it was just a radiator after all, right?

"Seasonal depression", I sighed, "SAD". There was something with an "A" in there I suppose, but it doesn't really matter. That's what they would pin on me until the spring. More therapy to melt the cold that gripped me from inside. Another set of pills, another scheduled group time. In some ways I supposed it was nice, some extra friends until spring when they would be released or sent back to their own wing where I wouldn't see them for some time, if ever again, "Maybe meal times". I picked at the scab on my hand mindlessly until the pain told me what I was doing. This wasn't seasonal depression. This was something far more constant. Quieter. Like a distant, constant hum. "Lonelier."

I picked up the small spider figure that rested on my windowsill and wiggled it until its jelly legs flopped comically to distract myself. I petted it with a smile, playing with its pedipalps. It was really very realistic looking, and sort of sweet. I had been tempted a few times to sneak it onto a fellow patient but I was too afraid of losing it. It was a gift from my sweetest friend, Jonathan, and while he would be honored to have it used for terror, I couldn't bear to part with it. I hid it in my clothes, my hair, even several times in the small pocket between my tongue and throat during unexpected inspections so it wouldn't be thrown out.

Petting it and pulling gently on his gelatin legs both brought a smile to my face and filled me with unspeakable solitude at the same time. I could see his face still, plain as day, in my mind. That mischievous grin and glowing eyes as he held out his boney hands, clapsed tight.

"Is it a Trick? Or maybe a Treat?" The longer I waited to pry open his fingers, the brighter his eyes glowed, anticipating my fear and hesitation. "What's wrong, Haunter? Looks like you've seen a ghost!" "Very funny"

When I had nearly pried off enough fingers from his top hand to see what he had clasped in his palms he jumped out at me with a "Hraaaaa" that nearly knocked me back onto the ground. He caught me and placed the dangly toy spider into my palms. I didn't know if I was breathing, I couldn't tell if he could breathe through all his laughter. "It's not much, but I hope it reminds you of me. Merry Christmas, Delia."

"Merry Christmas, Jonathan," I sighed to the emptiness, looking back out at the snow. In the distance the gates slowly opened, allowing several police cars out, and closed again. Maybe the prints were fresh; I stood to get a better look at the white ground. Sure enough, foot prints, a body mark, drag marks. The 'rust' started at the drive path and ended at the large hole in the snow. "Nothing quite like putting up a fight against Arkham in winter," I smiled to myself. It had all the adventure of a snow fight and none of the pain of hitting hard soil like an escape in the summer. I had been in that exact spot many times in my ten years. I felt a phantom pang of guilt for the year the Holiday Party ended early on account of my running, but if I hadn't had done it, someone would have. I might as well have been the one to give it a good shot. "One might have thought it telling that the patients never improved, but only tired to run…If one cared to look…."

The more I thought on the dismal Arkham Holidays, the more my eyes flickered to my pillow and my mind flashed memories of the gift I had stored in its secret clasp. I reached under my pillow and pulled out the little bundle of paper that sat under it. I unfolded the crushed tips of the folded and dried tissue petals: a perfect rose. I was more and more impressed with it every time I saw my pet project. It had taken months to store this much tissue without seeming suspicious, and even more caution procure enough blood to stain the right parts varying shades of red and rust without calling attention to my nicked fingertips and busted lips. Getting the stem black and green was the hardest part.

The hall door opened with a loud buzz. I nearly lept from my window seat, putting my spider and rose filled hands behind my back. I pressed my face to my bars best I could but I couldn't see who was coming in. The sound of guards dragging a light frame echoed down the hallway with some jeers and cheers from the other patients down the hall. I put the spider on my nested hair to hold it safe as I used my free hand to grip the bar and stand on the base bar for a better view.

"Nothing to say this time round? Find out your pride's no match for Arkham? Finally not convinced you're breakin' out, huh?!" a guard spat. I could tell he was having a tough time dragging along the body by the huffing in his voice. "This one must just be sitting and letting them drag him" I laughed to myself, "I have to admire that sort of obstinance".

I watched fixedly as the guards passed. Dragging by his hands, legs crossed and a scowl on his face, Jonathan Crane slid by my cell door. "Jonathan!" His face brightened instantly. Legs unfolding, he lifted his body effortlessly like a spectre rising from a tomb. The guards both stopped dead in their tracks either by shock or his hidden strength, I wasn't sure. His hand clasped around mine on the bar of my cell, his eyes amusedly caught on the spider dangling in its hair nest. "still?" He asked hoarsely. "of course," I could feel our time ticking. I opened his jacket and placed the blood-rose in the pocket inside it, "You never got to open your present, though! Happy Holidays, Jonathan."

He smiled fully, the toothy grin I had missed so dearly. It was broken in seconds by the hands of guards, one grabbing his arms, the other roughly pushing his face away from my cell. With the clink of keys and the screeching of metal on rust, the cell door across from mine swung open and Jonathan was tossed inside like a sack of flour. I felt myself tense up as though I could deflect his fall from my cell. He landed with a solid thud onto the mattress much to my relief. The cell door rolled shut and locked loudly. Jonathan lied still until the buzzer rang out and fell silent.

I continued to cling to my bars, "If I could pull myself through these to you, I would" I whispered. "I know," his rough voice whispered back.

"Did I say that out loud?"

"You always speak your mind out loud," he groaned sitting upright, forcing a smile though what was obviously pain. His hand reached inside his jacket and pulled out the paper rose. A genuine smile filled his face. "I've missed you," he croaked finally, tucking it neatly under the bed, between the frame bars and wire springs.

The cold that held my gut dissolved and the heavy hum died down to silence. I had fewer words that my tongue could pronounce than my heart and mind had notions. I simply looked at him, taking him in, the best medicine I ever had. The dearest friend I ever knew. "I've missed you too."