Another story. Hope you like and a Merry Christmas to you all.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Crimson Field or its characters and I don't own A Christmas Carol or its characters.

A Crimson Christmas Carol

Chapter 1

Roland stared at his papers. He had started to hate Christmas. It had become the time that he was dragged down by the paperwork that came in. He had started to hate the time of year as well. It was bitterly cold in northern France and any time he lit a fire in the small stove, which stood in his office, it would never be enough to take away the cold from his bones. The fact that everyone was so happy was also something that he had found annoying. How was it fair that they could be happy celebrating Christmas, when he was so unhappy buried under his mounds of paperwork. Thanks to the hatred he had found for the season, he had decided to keep the Christmas festivities to a minimum. He would let the patients celebrate but the staff would not. He might allow them a small Christmas dance out of his generosity, but not a lot more than that.

He felt a sudden chill go through him. He turned and saw that the fire in the stove was close to dying away. He went over to it and tried to light it, but his hands were shaking from the cold and he found it simply impossible to achieve. He went back to his desk and lit a candle to substitute for the fire. In fact, he thought, a candle would be better. This way he would be able to be closer to the warmth and he would be able to work better with a closer source of light than the stove. He picked up his pen and resumed writing. He would get half of this finished and then he could work on the rest throughout tomorrow. That way he wouldn't have to join in any of the festivities the staff decided to indulge in with the patients. They wouldn't welcome him at their festivities anyway. He was too old, in their eyes, to go around dancing and singing carols at the top of his voice. It was best to leave the young men and women to celebrate Christmas alone.

There was a knock at his door.

"Come in." he said grudgingly

Grace Carter appeared around the door.

"Hello, how are you?" she asked, smiling

"I'm fine, why shouldn't I be?" he said sharply

She was taken aback by his sharpness but continued smiling at him.

"Roland, how are you possibly warm enough, with just a little candle? You'll catch your death."

She approached the stove but he stopped her quickly

"I'm fine Matron Carter. I see better with the candle, than I do with the stove and the candle may be smaller but it is closer to me, therefore I am warmer than if the stove was lit." he explained

"Well that isn't true." She started "If you went to sit in that armchair, by the stove and relax then you would be much warmer. You'd b-"

"I can't." he cut her off "I have work to do. If I work into the night I can get half of this finished tonight and do the rest tomorrow."

"For pity sake, Roland. Do you know what today is?" It was a rhetorical question and he knew better than to try and answer it "It's Christmas Eve, and yet here you are working away. You should try to enjoy yourself. Christmas only comes once a year."

"I know that but the British Army doesn't care to wait for paperwork."

"Well I'm sure they would make an exception, as it is Christmas. Also, what do you mean, that you'll do the rest of this paperwork tomorrow? It's Christmas day tomorrow. You can't work on Christmas day." She looked concerned

"I certainly can, and I will." He insisted

"Won't you be joining the patients on the wards, for a little bit of Christmas spirit? The staff have organised a little party as well for later in the evening." She told him

"They've what? I gave orders for Christmas to be treated with as little fuss as possible."

"You have to let them have a little fun at Christmas."

"The party better be small then." He said, seeing he was beaten "I don't want anyone up after midnight and if I find that there is too much noise being generated, I will stop it."

"I take it you won't be attending then?" she asked, hoping that perhaps he would change his mind

"No, I certainly will not." He said indignantly

She looked disappointed but he failed to notice

"Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do. Goodnight Matron Carter."

"Goodnight Colonel Brett." She got up to leave but stopped at the door "Merry Christmas, Roland"

He only grumbled, in response. He heard the door shut quietly but only looked up after she had left. She was a lovely women but it was better if he kept her at arm's length. She would probably never reciprocate his feelings, so, even though he hated it, being sharp with her was for the best.

He continued working for another half an hour but then stopped to look at his watch. It was a quarter to midnight. He should probably go to bed. It would be better if he was well rested. With that, he lay his pen down on his desk, and rose from his chair. He picked up the small candle and took it with him to his sleeping quarters, behind his office. He was just about to get into bed when a wind came from nowhere and the candle blew out of its own accord. Roland searched his bedside in the dark, trying with little success to find the matches.

The next thing Roland knew, a ghostly white hand stopped his progress. He looked up and saw the transparent figure of his former brigadier. The figure glowed filling the whole room with light. Roland crawled away from the figure and onto his bunk.

"Bri..brig..Brigadier Jameson." He managed to get out

"Good evening, Lieutenant Brett."

"It's Colonel Brett now, Sir. I've gone up in the world."

"So I see. I see a lot of things have changed." Jameson stated

"Why are you here, Sir?" Roland tried changing the subject

"I have come to warn you, perhaps save you."

"Sir?"

"You see the chains that I wear Brett." The ghost gestured to the chains around him "I forged it in life. I made it link by link, and yard by yard."

Roland was silent and stared at the ghost

"Does it amaze you? Do you find my chains strange? They are part of me just as yours are a part of you, for you may not see them but you carry them. Few people don't."

"What can I do? Can you offer me some sort of hope or do you have any comfort to bring me."

"I cannot give you comfort but what I say may give you hope." Jameson started "Tonight you will be visited by three spirits, and perhaps you can change your fate."

"Will one of those spirts be you?"

"No, you will not see me again, but the spirits will guide you towards the light. Expect the first spirit at one o'clock, the second at two o'clock and the third at three o'clock."

The figure vanished into thin air and the room was plunged, once more into darkness.

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