A/N: I meant to get this up by Christmas but got hit with a major case of writers block. Hopefully it'll be up by the end of this week. I know that in the story takes place in Victorian times but don't know how they talked then. If you have any suggestions then they would be greatly appreciated.
Disclaimers: I don't own Tiny Tim or any other characters you might recognize.
Now the story...

Our story really starts in the little hospital on the edge of town. It's a cold day, exactly two years from the Christmas when that monstrous turkey arrived on the front stoop. Tiny Tim woke on the stroke of midnight. He was in the hospital. He'd had gotten the best treatment money could buy, Uncle Scrooge had seen to that. It had taken two years to find the best doctor and prepare him for the treatment, but it had been worth it. He now had full control of his leg and just needed to strengthen it. It'd been a hard day of therapy and he was staying the night.

It seems fitting doesn't it, that our story starts on the same day that dear Ebenezer's does. Yes it was Christmas Eve night, and as the clock struck midnight Tiny Tim's eyes opened and he sat up in bed. Looking out the window he smiled, he would be going home later that day for Christmas. And Uncle Scrooge would be there and Mother and Father and Peter and Martha, and all his family. Maybe they'd…

"Um, Hi." A soft voice interrupted from behind him. "Do you know what time it is?" The voice inquired.

Tim turned and squinted through the dark. There was a girl sitting on one of the many beds that littered the large room.

"Yeah, it's just hit midnight." Tim answered, his voice breaking the quiet.

"Oh, not again." The girl suddenly exclaimed.

"What?" Now Tim was curious.

"For the last couple of months, I keep being woken by a dream up at midnight. But when I wake up I can never remember the dream. I can never fall back asleep after my dream. My parents were getting worried. I need my sleep for the operation but, this dream keeps me from getting it."

Now that his eyes were adjusted to the dark he got a good look at her. She was about his age so about eleven or twelve. She had ginger colored hair that fell in cascades over her shoulders. She was small but lean, he could see that much.

"Maybe I can help." He offered.

"I don't think so. I've been looked at by priests and doctors and therapists and shamans. No one knows how to fix me." She sounded dejected.

"Well it can't hurt to try can it." He stood up and hobbled over to the bed next to her, wincing as he put weight on his sore leg. Sitting down on the edge and pulling the scratchy covers over his legs.

She moved to sit on the edge of her bed, facing him.

Putting on a pinched expression and a really bad accent he sat stiffly perched on the edge of his bed imitating the doctor. "Now tell me, what seems to be the matter."

A quiet giggle from the opposite bed told him he was on the right track.

"Okay," He said in his normal voice. "What do you remember about your dream?"

"Nothing really, except that it wakes me up panting, yet strangely calm, every night at midnight."

"Then do you have any memories that you don't remember getting?"

There was silence as she thought. "Actually, yes! There is one. It's not much, just a face. It's just a blur really but it's an old man with spectacles and a frown."

"Well then. If it's the old man that's making you wake up then you'll just have to tell him to go away." Tim sat back feeling very proud of himself.

"Oh, so it's that simple. Thank you Mr. Doctor sir, I'm sure your treatment for these wretched nightmares will work." She said with a laugh.

The next morning Tim woke up to find the girl gone. The nurses told him that her Father had come and taken her away. They wouldn't tell him her name and when his family came to pick him up he pushed her from his mind. But unfortunately this wasn't one of those memories you can just lock in a drawer and throw away the key. This was one of those which if you did so (Which Tim did) It just grows and grows till it seeps out the edges or bursts the whole drawer open.

With Tim it did the later, putting a whole new meaning to the term, facing your past.

It took three years for the drawer to open, and when it did he was on his mind constantly. Everyone thought he had fallen in love, he didn't know. He had one blurry picture but one thing stood clear in his mind, a clear laugh, like bells it was. It chimed a merry tune and echoed in his head. He loved it and it's that laugh that takes us back to our story.

It was starting to get chilly out, as it usually does in the middle of September. He was walking home from work at Uncle Scrooge's. Scrooge had taken him on as an apprentice. He had a half a crown to spend, a treat from Uncle Scrooge.

He decided to run around town before going to the market. It still gave him a thrill to run, freely moving, wind in his hair and the sun beating down. He was one of the fastest he knew, everyone betted on him to win in the neighborhood races.

It was that chiming bell laughter that cut through the daze that running brought. "Jess, stop that! That's not something to be discussed by proper ladies."

The quiet answer to that I will not put here as it consisted of 'Jess' calling proper ladies by some names most proper ladies would be horrified to hear.

Curious to see who it was making such disagreeable statements on a Friday afternoon in the park; Tim changed directions and sped along the park path. Stopping to rest at a bench, he waited to hear the voices again. To his surprise not just voices but once again that laugh came from the blanket behind him.

It was a violet blanket with indigo embroidery on it. On it sat two young ladies, about his age, both laughing in delight. One had a booming merry laugh that sent shivers down your spine. She had black hair pulled up under a bonnet, straight strands hanging around her face. The was dressed in a dark blue well made dress, though the effect was ruined as the hem was dipped, covered and splattered in mud up to nearly her waist. Everyone had dirt on their clothes, there was no way around it, but this was extreme.

The other girl held his attention though. She had ginger hair that hung in ringlets around her face. The rest was pulled up under an unusually small bonnet. You could still see most of her hair. She was slender but lean and was dressed in a purple red dress. There was mud splatters on this one as well but not nearly as many.

It was her laugh, the laugh, the one that he'd not been able to get out of his head for the past year. Now that he looked closely he could see how the face was shaped the same as the one in his memory.

It was now or never. He'd had this girl in his head for the past year. He might never see her again. So why wasn't he going to talk to her. 'Get going you pansy' his inner voice told him. Gathering up courage he approached the two.

"Good Afternoon Madams." He said quietly taking of his hat.

"Good afternoon sir. What brings you to the park on this fine day?" Jess, the black haired one asked.

"The sound of laughter, your to be precise."

"Ours?"

"Yes, this may sound odd but…"

"Do I know you?" The ginger haired girl cut in suddenly.

"Quite possibly, In fact that's what I was about to ask." Tim was glad to have an excuse to keep gazing at her. She had such green eyes; there were flecks of gold in them too. "Were you by any chance in the hospital on the edge of this town nearly four years ago? Christmas eve, you woke at midnight."

"Yes, are you by any chance the boy who got rid of the bad dreams?"

"So they went away?"

"Why yes!"

"Well what do you know? I should become a doctor and solve millions of peoples strange dream problems." He waved his arms dramatically as he said that.

She laughed at that, that sweet bell laughter that made you smile just to hear it." I still have the dreams, just not often, and when ever I do I wake up like I used to and I only remember one thing. Your 12 year old face tells something to go away."

Tim positively beamed at that. She remembered him too! "Glad I could be of some assistance Mame." He tipped my hat dramatically.

"Sorry to but in but whom are you?" Her black haired friend's voice broke through our laughter.

"Oh I'm sorry Jess," The ginger turned toward her friend. "This is … I'm sorry, but I don't know your name."

"Tim Cratchit at your service." Tipping his hat again but this time more seriously.

"Tim, this is Jessamine Drake. Jess, Tim Cratchit. And Tim, I'm Gwenevere of Macklin, but please, call me Gwen."

Macklin, why did that sound so familiar? Tim put it from his mind; after all why think about something that didn't matter when you had such a beautiful lady in front of you.

"Well Mr. Cratchit, I don't know much about you but I like your wit." As she spoke the clock tower struck one.

"Oh my! I'm sorry Tim, but we have a previous engagement. I'm sure we'll see each other again." She sounded sorry that she had to go.

"I live for the day when I see you again." Tim said formally but the image is ruined by the smirk that graced his features.

"Well then good sir, I await your call." Gwen added a mock bow to the picture.

Tim stood in the cold air till he could no longer see them.

A/N: Please Review. Comments are appreciated; suggestions considered and most of the time used; and flames are read and then made fun of. Thank you.