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Advent

Sasha sat up in her bed. She just could not get to sleep. Her joints ached, her throat hurt, and her hair felt brittle. Covers went down as she swung her feet onto the floor. While they were pink, at least her footed pajamas were Power Patrol and Pink Patroller took nothing off of nobody, not like that wimpy Yellow Patroller. The bathrobe was Picture Perfect Princess, but since it was M'Lady Marigold at least it was green. Even with the robe she still had the chills, so she wrapped the thermal blanket around her shoulders before leaving her room.

Darkness and silence ruled the house. Open doors revealed empty rooms. Before she could wonder she saw a soft light spill out of the living room. She padded down the hall toward it. When she reached the archway Sasha stopped.

Her mother blew out the long match and set it down on the table. Candles glowed on the stand in front of the window. This was Sasha's first year in big kid's school; she did not understand physiology, or the intersection of talent with hundreds of hours of practice. All she did know was that her mother sang like an angel.

VENI, veni, Emmanuel
captivum solve Israel,
qui gemit in exsilio,
privatus Dei Filio.

Gaude! Gaude! Emmanuel,
nascetur pro te Israel!

The little girl leaned against the archway, listening. She felt the words, even if she could not understand them; words of longing, anticipation, and an undeniable touch of sadness. Additional verses followed and Sasha managed to remain quiet for them all. When she finished, her mother bowed her head and crossed herself. Finally Sasha had to cough.

"Who?" Magda turned around. "Oh, Sasha, what's wrong? Can't sleep?"

Sasha let her mother pick her up. She shook her head and croaked. "No. Told you I could have gone to the game."

"But you don't even like basketball…they can't run into each other on purpose." Her mother smiled. No one could miss the resemblance. Each had jet back hair with a natural wave. Sasha's face was still rounded, but one could tell that under the child fat her mother's fine bone structure bided its time. Each had green eyes, though Sasha's were a deep emerald while her mother's were pale. And at the moment, if Magda's skin could be described as creamy, her daughter looked pasty white.

Magda laid her hand on Sasha's forehead. "You're still burning up. If you want to see the Maulers play next week you have to get better. Do you want something to drink?"

After Sasha nodded her mother took her into the kitchen. She stood by the table while her mother poured up a glass of orange juice. Her mother handed her the glass. "Why don't we go sit in the living room and watch the snow?"

Moments later they were on the couch. A little chill caused Sasha to press close against her mother. She lifted the girl into her lap. When she finished her drink Sasha set her glass down.

"Mommy, why didn't you sing the song with the real words?"

"I did. The original song is in Latin. I learned it in school, just like you will someday. You know, when your grandmother was a little girl they did everything in Latin."

Sasha's lip turned down. "But nobody would've understood the priests. That sounds dumb."

"That was how the Church worshiped for a very, very long time." Magda explained. "Sometimes I like to do things the old way; it ties you to all those people who came before you. It's called tradition."

"Then why are you using blue candles instead of purple ones? Didn't you use purple last year?"

"You have such a good memory." Magda smiled. "The blue stands for hope. It also reminds us of Mary, her faith, her courage…"

"She might be brave, but she wasn't smart."

"What?" The woman started.

Sasha turned in her mother's lap. "I heard someone say that she went to Bethlehem with Joseph even though she didn't know him. Everyone knows you don't take rides from strangers."

Magda surpassed a laugh. Later. Much later. "I don't think they meant it in that way."

There was no follow up question; the flu seemed to have knocked the curiosity out of Sasha for now. The girl turned around and leaned back again, looking up as her mother talked. "You know, before you were born and still in my belly you would sometimes push your head up for a rub. Your father didn't believe me, I guess only Moms understand."

She rubbed her daughter's head. The little girl sighed and nestled in. Her breathing became regular in the quiet. A short time later her head cooled: the fever had broken.

Pale green eyes reflected the candlelight. Mother laid her cheek against her sleeping daughter's head. She smiled at a thought.

One day, I'll watch you hold your child like this.

Years later…

Cool shade from a passing cloud brought a smile to Shego's face. The Caribbean sun had almost grown too hot. Now she would not have to move…

Plop!

Shego sat up. A beach ball lay in her lap. Again. Last year it was at the pool, this year it was at the beach. She took the ball and balanced it on the fingertips of one hand. When the little brat came to get it (Can't say 'ask' for it, they never do that.) she would superheat the air inside, and then put just enough plasma into her nails. The explosion would be most satisfying. That trick had won her a nickname last year: one that suited the bars as well as the beach.

She pushed back her shades when the figure came into her field of vision. A little girl with dark hair, dark eyes, and skin that needed a bit more sun screen stood in front of her. Several yards back was a group of older children who looked at her anxiously.

"May I have my ball back, please?"

"Your ball?" Shego cocked an eyebrow. "Know what I think? I think this isn't your ball. I think it belongs to one of those kids back there. I think they sent you because you're the smallest. I think they're afraid of me."

Shego leaned forward, her head tilted slightly to the side. Green eyes locked into the dark ones before her. Subtle forms of intimidation, nice to know that those years in college had given her something useful. The knot of children huddled and whispered to each other.

But if the children behind her were scared, the little girl was not. She sucked her lips in. Small fists clinched. "It is so my ball. Daddy gave it to me on the Eighth Night, when he told us we'd be coming here for School Break. I'm sorry it hit you, but may I please have it back?"

"You've got manners, I'll give you that." Shego flicked the ball to the girl, who caught it with a huge grin.

"Thank you." The girl smiled. The vacationing criminal had expected the girl to run off but she just stood there.

"What is it now?"

"If they want to, your kids could play with us."

If Shego had been drinking she would have done a spit take. "Kids? Do I look like I never get a good night's sleep?"

The child nodded. "Then you must be here with your Mommy."

If I still had that ball in my hands… There was a knot in her stomach, heat around her eyes. All Shego could manage was a hoarse reply. "She's gone."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Dark eyes looked down for a moment. "You must miss her."

Against her will, the corner of Shego's mouth pulled up. "Yeah. I do."

"Thanks for my ball back. Happy Holidays!" The child turned to throw the ball back into the little mob. They ran off, carefully skirting other adults. After a little while a woman called the girl to an umbrella. Shego watched the woman put more sunscreen on the girl. Maybe you got to her before she burned. The two laughed and talked. The black haired beauty watched longer than she had planned to.

Suddenly a shudder went through Shego. She gathered her things and headed for the hotel. They had a pretty good mixologist, and she needed something to keep her planned night of clubbing from being spoiled. Spoiled by something she had never experienced before in her adult life. It was as mystifying in its alien nature as it was unsettling in its insistence.

At the moment she wanted nothing more than to look down into a pair of impossibly large adoring eyes, and to feel a small hand slip into her own.

Happy Holdiays from the Wizard Clan.