Author's Note: Spoilers of the episode "Mr. Grumpy-Pants" in this chapter.

Christmas Past

The Warden ducked under the covers, buried his head under the pillows, trying desperately to drown out the horrible chiming of his clock. It was 1 a.m. His first ghost promised was to arrive.

On cue, the wind whipped harder outside, and Warden nearly kicked himself for taking a peek. A lighted form came into clarity in the room. To his genuine surprise, the ghost was not frightening or threatening at all, but rather that of a child; a girl of perhaps four. A very familiar little girl…

"You…" He sat up to regard her.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past, Warden," the child informed him gently.

"…Cancer…?"

She nodded with a small smile. "That's what those sweet men called me."

The Warden cringed in a wave of nervousness. "Couldn't I have…a different Ghost of Christmas Past?" He did not want to spend an hour with someone whose death he had been partially responsible for. Particularly someone so young…

"I'm afraid I was sent," she floated towards him.

"But—I…you…"

"I'm not here about though," she smiled warmly to him and extended a hand. And for the first time, the Warden noticed a small medical bracelet. He cautiously reached out for it, rising from bed. He looped a finger through the bracelet and peered closer.

"Cancer…?" he paled in realization. As she gave him a sad little nod, he drew back in shame.

"I…always did think that was a strange name…"

Cancer shook her little head dismissively. "But that's not the kind of past I'm here about." She floated to the window and held out a hand. "Now come."

"But—But I can't fly!" Warden exclaimed.

"Take my hand and you'll be fine."

"Now, now," he crossed his arms defiantly. "If I had been more responsible, you might still be alive. How do I know you're not seeking revenge?"

She looked at him with shining eyes. "It's Christmas…and I'm just a kid…I'm not after revenge. Come with me." A twinkle shone in her eye. "And I couldn't hate you if I tried. We have the same birthday."

The Warden stared at her, unsure, for the longest time. Finally, his eyes never leaving hers, he reached out and took the tiny hand in his big one.

Immediately he felt light as air. Cancer rose and began to pass through the windowpane, and he found himself involuntarily following her. Out they flew into the winter night sky. The man yelped and clung to the girl with both hands.

"I've got you," she reassured him. As the two flew over Superjail, he became slightly more relaxed; enough to realize that he was not at all cold in just his nightgown. Furthermore, he noticed that his beloved Superjail was becoming less and less familiar along the way. It was…dull—gray—colorless.

"Where are we?" he exclaimed to her.

"Christmas Past," Cancer replied simply.

Warden watched, unsure of what to expect, as they descended upon one drab building in the midst of the mundane prison.

"Father's office."

"The only place he was this time of year," she reminded him sadly. She brought him to the window and in they came.

"Father?" he called to the busy man at the desk. The Mogul failed to acknowledge him.

"He can't hear or see us," Cancer explained. "We are ghosts here; observers. We can't change the past." She floated to the Warden's father and placed a hand on his shoulder. "He was always here on Christmas Eve; alone, working. He never gave his employees a holiday break, a holiday bonus, or a holiday party. He never even allowed them to celebrate with their own Christmas party."

"Sir, are you busy?" a voice was heard at the office door. The Prison Mogul looked up and scowled.

"If it's about Christmas, then yes," he began writing harder and faster.

"Sir, please? It won't be long."

"Fine! You are quite the whiner Jarald; you know that?" he slammed his pencil down on the desk.

Jarald entered and immediately paled at the sulking face of his boss. "Sir, I'm sorry to bother you like this, but I managed to find the funding for your statue to be repaired. If you could just sign the work order."

"This all sounds familiar," Warden smiled proudly. Cancer looked back to him with a most disappointed look.

"Selfishness isn't nearly as glamorous as you make it out to be," she said sincerely, "Watch."

"Now I know why you're really here. Forget it, Jarald."

"But sir—!"

"I said forget it!"

The accountant, dismayed, reached the door before adding one final memo. "Oh, and Prison Mogul? Your son is really ill, and the doctor's done all he can for him. He says he really wants to see his father for Christmas—"

"Well then, why doesn't Uncle Jarald get his work done early and go see the boy for me?"

"Sir, it wouldn't be the same."

"Then don't," the Mogul turned back to his work, "Just leave me to my business."

"I…forgot…" the Warden said unhappily. "He never did visit me for Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Mogul."

Warden looked up to see a dejected Jarald leave the office.

"Well, I guess we're done here," Cancer took her hand off of the man's shoulder and returned to the Warden's side. "Come." On her word, the two vanished.

The Warden next found himself in a dark bedroom, dimly lit by a flickering candle on the nightstand. Nearby was a child-sized bed, and the Warden came closer to peer in at its occupant. A very small boy shivered and shuddered under the blankets. The Warden reached one hand out gently to his past self. He touched the child's quivering shoulder as the bedroom door opened.

"I'm sorry, young master, but your father won't be swayed," Jarald was sad to report.

"He's…not coming to see me?" the boy asked, "Not even once?"

"I'm sorry," the accountant shook his head, "How are you feeling?"

"Much worse now."

"You see?" Cancer told the present Warden.

"Well, sure, he never had time for me," the Warden turned to her, "but he had better things to do. More important matters to attend to."

"I'm sad to hear you still feel that way."

"Now are you trying to tell me my father was wrong?" Warden tried to look offended.

Cancer gave him a most sincere look. "I'm not here to judge your father and his values. I only want you to change yours."

"Well, I'm not yet convinced to do so."

"This is why I'm not the only one in on this," the little girl smiled, "Anyway, my hour's about up. Time to go." She took hold of the man's hand, and they were in his present bedroom in a flash.

"Well, good luck, Warden," she bid him, "and Merry Christmas."

The Warden took a deep breath as he looked upon her, and then spoke. "Listen—Cancer…I…I wasn't quite myself that birthday. I don't know what I was thinking and…I'm sorry."

The sparkle came back to the child's eye. "I guess my mission's complete then." She smiled at him and disappeared.

Being so caught up in the moment, the Warden almost did not hear the clock chime two.