Collins glanced up at the clock nervously. It was one in the morning, and Angel wasn't home yet. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, because he did, it was all the other people out there that he didn't trust.

He was about to go out to look for her, when the door slid open, the cold air rushing in. Angel's slender figure appeared in the door frame. "Collins!" she smiled, "what are you doing up?"

The older man got up and walked over to her, "Where were you?" the question came out wrong, sounding more like an accusation.

She frowned, "I was out."

"Out doing what, exactly?" he asked.

Angel set down her pickle tub. The only light in the room was coming from the lamp Collins had turned on, and it was sending eerie shadows across the walls of the apartment. "Drumming," she said.

"Please enlighten me as to why you were 'drumming' until one in the morning," he said, sitting down on the couch.

She sat down with him, putting her pickle tub in between her legs. "Well," she began, "I was drumming. Like this," she played a simple rhythm on the plastic sarcastically.

Collins rolled his eyes.

Angel smiled, "And then I started walking home, around, say two hours ago."

She stopped right in front of the bakery and set her pickle tub down. Angel thought she heard something, like a whimper. But when the sound didn't come back, she continued walking. Then she heard it again, but only this time, it was louder and more of a cry. Angel walked down in between the bakery and the grocery store, cautiously exploring the alley for the sound's creator.

"You shouldn't be going in alley ways, Ang," Collins scolded her. "Bad people hide in there."

"Tell me about it," she laughed, "if my memory serves me, I think I found you in an alleyway." Collins chuckled, and she went on.

Angel opened the lid of the green dumpster, and peered inside. Laying on top of all the rubbish, was a girl, who couldn't have been older than sixteen. Her hair, which may have once been platinum blonde and shiny, was matted and knotted in the back. She was wearing an oversized blue shirt with all sorts of stains and tears, and in the girl's arms, was a baby.

Collins' expression softened, "What happened?"

"Please, help…" the girl whimpered with all her remaining strength.

Angel carefully took the baby from the girl's arms and set it carefully in her tub. Then she helped the girl out of the dumpster, and guided her over to sit on an old sofa someone had thrown out.

"Are you okay?" Angel asked, even though the answer was obvious.

The girl just nodded in response.

Angel put the baby back in the girl's arms, "How old is he?" she asked.

"What time is it?" the young girl wondered.

The drag queen rolled up her sleeve and looked at her threaded watch. "Midnight."

The girl swallowed, "He's an hour old."

"Collins, she had just had the baby. By herself, in a trash can. I'm telling you, it's a miracle they both lived. I wanted to give them something, anything. I gave them my drumming money, but that wasn't enough. So, she asked me to drum, sweet thing thought it would help him to stop crying."

"Did you?" Collins asked intently.

Angel smiled, "Of course I did."

Angel took off the thin, ragged white shirt, which was only one of the layers she was wearing and wrapped the baby in it. "I'm Angel," she said.

"Marilyn," the girl said. "Can you play the drum? I could hear you earlier, it made him stop crying."

Angel smiled softly, and started a gentle and comforting beat. The baby continued to cry. "Shh… hush now honey…" she whispered. Then Angel started to sing one of her favorite Christmas carols. She got a few of the verses mixed up, but she figured the infant wouldn't mind too much.

"Come, they told me, pa rum pa pum pum.

A new born king to see, pa rum pa pum pum.

I have no gift to bring, pa rum pa pum pum.

That's fit to give our king, pa rum pa pum pum, rum pa pum pum, rum pa pum pum.

I played my drum for him, pa rum pa pum pum

I played my best for him, pa rum pa pum pum.

I am a poor boy too, pa rum pa pum pum.

Then, he smiled at me, pa rum pa pum pum.

Me and my drum."

The exhausted mother and the baby boy soon feel asleep to Angel's steady rhythm.

The professor held the drag queen close, "I'm so in love with you, Ang. What did you do then?"

"I carried them both to Mark's loft," she answered.

"WHAT? ANGEL!" Collins yelled. "You can't just leave a young girl and her CHILD with Mark and Roger! If you had the slightest bit of sense, you would have-"

Angel laughed and put her hand on Collins' knee, "Oh my god! You believed me," she giggled. "No, of course I didn't do that. I brought them to the homeless shelter, and told the lady there about them. It'll be the girl's decision whether she keeps the baby or gives him to the orphanage, but at least they'll have somewhere to stay."

"You carried them?" Collins laughed. "You?"

Angel punched his shoulder lightly, "Hey! I have enough strength to hold a starved teenager and a newborn! Check out these muscles," she smiled and pushed up her jacket.

Collins laughed, "You are the most wonderful person."

Angel shrugged, "I know."

"Tired?" Tom Collins asked.

She nodded, and curled up close to him, "Can we just sleep here tonight?" Angel asked.

"On the couch?"

Angel nodded, "Yeah, we've slept here before."

Collins got up and ran to check the bedroom. Then he came back and joined his lover on the sofa.

"What did you do?" she asked.

"I just had to check and make sure there weren't two children asleep in our bed, that's all."

Angel laughed and buried her head in his shoulder, "Good idea, wish I had thought of that."

"No, you don't," Collins smiled.

Angel smiled against his skin, "You're right. We need that bed."

"Yes we do," he agreed. He looked down at the literal angel he was holding in his arms, and wondered why in the world she belonged to him. He didn't deserve her. Yet, he was lucky enough to get to take care of her. Lucky enough to hold her in his arms at night. Lucky enough to get to kiss her. Lucky enough to wipe away her tears, and be her superhero. Lucky enough to laugh with her. Lucky enough to spend each day with her, to get to talk to her. Lucky enough to love her. "Merry Christmas, my Angel. I love you."

But Angel was already sound asleep, her head resting on Collins' chest, her hand entangled in his.