I am back, all you lovely people! I have not forgotten all of you. It has been a rough few months but I am finally back and ready to go! Gearing up for Winterfest, I have a poem that I am still working on and plan to submit for the Fest! Thank you Thunderhoof for your your encouragement to do so last year! I have not forgotten those following Risen from the Grave. There are some serious plot bunnies running around in that room, so I am keeping that door closed until they settle down. For those that are following Breaking Down Barriers, now that the snow is returning in our part of the world, you may begin seeing updates on that one. It was really hard to write a snow rescue with no snow!

This story is not part of my Scarlett/Mouse series. It is a stand alone, more Canon story, and any OC's are not permanent to the storyline. Will have fragments of A Christmas Carol and It's a Wonderful Life in it. I do not own any of them. Just sayin'.

Here goes! (Flexes fingers. It feels great to be back! Commence typing!)

Please review! They are the life blood of the author!

TIS THE SEASON_

The streets Above were sparkling in the blanket of new fallen snow. All across Central Park, the glitter of the lights strung in the trees shone, making the pathways seem bright as day, even at midnight. The jangling of the bells on shop doors created their own continuous song, as the busy holiday shoppers trotted up one street and down another. There was music in the air, and the seasonal joy drifted down upon each person with each flake of white that fell from the clouds.

Up on top of the fluffy snow clouds, a figure sat, watching the goings on below them through a break in the fluff.

"It's a shame, Jason. A downright shame."

A taller figure drifted from a different vantage point to stand next to the sitting one. "What is, Chester? Watching earth again?"

"The spirit of the season, Jason, such a mixed emotion."

The tall figure smiled and laid a gentle hand on the shoulder of the older man. "I agree, Chester. Some spend Christmas, the time of good will, brooding over gain and receiving, while others would spend their last cent to aid the loneliness of another at such a time, but they do not have the means. But their heart is in the right place."

Chester smiled. "You have the right idea, Jason. Say, why are you out here? It is dangerous."

Jason laughed heartily. "I might ask you the same, Chester. You come out here on the clouds whenever you want."

Chester shook a finger at the laughing young man. "But I have wings, Jason. You have not earned them yet. One step through the cloud cover and you will fall to earth and have to earn those wings through pain and suffering. You have only a few more weeks till those wings are yours. Why can't you stick with palace duty until then?"

Jason sighed, and sat down on a puff of cloud. "I want to watch them, Chester. I have never been sent to the aide of an earthbound human. I know sometimes He sends us when they are in danger, or lonely, or troubled. But I have never had that privilege."

"All in good time, Jason." Chester spoke kindly, waving his hand at the impatient young man. "Once you have your wings, the Almighty will give you your place among the messengers."

Jason nodded absentmindedly and propped his chin in his hand. "How do I be patient until then, Chester."

The older gentleman smiled. "Just keep watching and following orders, Jason. Your time will come."

Jason nodded again and paced atop the cloud, his impatience quite evident. "Sure, Chester, sure. How long did you wait for your wings?"

Chester opened his mouth to reply, but a widening crack in the shifting cloud swallowed Jason completely before he could warn him. Chester rushed to the edge of the cloud and peered over the wispy perimeter. Jason was lost to sight. The older angel sighed, and sat down. Jason would have to earn his wings the hard way. If he survived the fall.

TIS THE SEASON_

The busy hustle of the season spread into the hidden tunnels of Below. The usually quiet tunnels were filled with the laughter of children, the tapping of goodwill messages on the pipes from Helpers below, and the rustling of cloaks traveling to and fro as chambers were lit and decorated.

A tall, lion-like man walked slowly beside an older gentleman. The gentleman had the proud, angular face of a distinguished aristocrat, but the calm air of a commoner. His cloak brushed the ground as they walked, hiding a slight limp that kept him walking at an even pace.

The lion man was speaking.

"Father, Rebecca and the candle makers have completed their allotted amount for the Christmas ceremony. The children have been working daily on the music arrangements, and Jamie and Mary have so much food in preparation that I think we may need to invite some Helpers to take some above to the homeless."

The older gentleman smiled and patted the lion-man on his broad shoulder. "Well done, Vincent. I do believe we shall have a grand Christmas."

"I believe we shall, Father. You can feel the gentleness of the season settling into every crevice of these walls right after Thanksgiving. Oh look, Geoffrey got the holly hung over the doorway to the library. He originally came up with mistletoe from somewhere, and I instructed him against it."

Father cast a quick glance over his glasses at Vincent and nodded. "Well done, my boy. Wherever would he have gotten that?"Vincent smiled and followed his father and mentor into the well-lit library. "From Mouse, I assumed."

Father chuckled and sat down at the quaint chess table. "A well-determined guess, I am quite sure, Vincent. Chess?"

Vincent seated himself across from Father and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "A most useful way to spend the afternoon, Father. Where is the tea?-"

At that moment, several of the little children, followed by Jamie, raced clamoring into the usually quiet room, launching themselves at Father and Vincent. For a moment there was pandemonium as several climbed onto father's lap, and Vincent's chair, and others tried to pole on top, all talking at once. Suddenly, a shrill whistle pierced the air. Everyone froze.

Jamie placed the whistle back into her pocket. "Now, you little heathens, mind your manners. Father and Vincent, the children have something to tell you."

Amused, Father and Vincent waited as the children all glanced at each other, then spoke as if in one voice, "The Christmas tree is ready to decorate!"

Amid the new chorus of excited children's clambering, Father spoke to Jamie. "I see that Winslow has kept the chain of command running smoothly and there were no casualties on the way down to the Great Hall with the tree Peter sent? What exactly do you wish from Vincent and I, child?"Jamie smiled. "Well, Father, I - we - need someone there to keep order. Winslow and William are setting the tree up - it is quite beautiful - and doing a fine job, but when the children start shouting and there are decorations everywhere, I just worry that there will be accidents. And you know, I am barely a kid too, and they hardly listen to me at all, they can't help it after all, it's Christmas."Jamie finished in such a depressed voice, that Father chuckled. "Now, now, Jamie. I will come and help. Vincent, why don't you see if Rebecca has the candle delivery's ready for distribution to the helpers, and I will take these munchkins down to the Winterfest chamber and keep order."

Vincent smiled. "Father, you are becoming quite a softie."

Father scowled over his glasses. "Vincent, I do not wish to ever hear that from you or anyone else again."For a moment, everyone fell quiet and were worried that Father was angry. He straightened his cloak around him and then pushed up his glasses. "It would not do a thing for my image."

He spoke in a fake-haughty tone, causing everyone to burst out laughing. Vincent clapped a paw on Father's shoulder. The laughter brought an instant good mood over the little group and they began the little journey toward the Great Hall.

A_LITTLE_WHILE_LATER

A young man scurried along the dark alleyways, his shaggy hair nearly hiding his face. His careful movements kept him shielded from the view of any chance passersby. In his hands were clutched random pieces of metal, and a long spring swung from his thumb. He ducked beneath a gate that was half crumbling and turned toward the hidden entrance that would take him Below. His name was Mouse. A gatherer, he was returning to Below with finds that he could use to create his inventions. He stopped behind a row of garbage bins and reached for the hidden handle of the door. At that moment, a groan reached his ears. Instinct told him to run and quickly hide, but the groan was not that of someone that could move quickly. The young man quietly laid down his small treasures and tiptoed around the garbage cans. There before him on the ground lay a young man. He looked to be in his late twenties, wearing a white shirt and khaki pants. His arms were laying at odd angles, almost appearing to not belong to him at all. He seemed to be in a lot of pain. He was moaning a quiet complaint that only those severely injured can make. The tunnel dweller crept closer, careful to be quiet and out of sight.

He stepped on a tin can by accident, and he saw the stricken figure stiffen at the sound, his chest rising and falling quickly. "Who - is - there?" The fallen figure spoke hoarsely.

The young tunnel dweller crept closer and knelt cautiously beside the young man. "My name Mouse. You - hurt bad. Must get Father."

The young man nodded once, his breathing labored and harsh.

Mouse furrowed his brow and touched the man's bruised arm. "What - happened?"

The young man opened blue eyes and looked straight into Mouse's worried face. "I fell from Heaven."

And he fell back unconscious.