Chapter 2 - The Ghost of Christmas Past

Despite being forewarned about his appointment later, Chad decided to call it an early night and pretend that the Christmas party, the argument with his mother, and his "visit" from Gerry had never even happened. As it was, he was out cold and dead to the world by ten – early even for him. Suddenly, he was awoken jarred awake by his phone's alarm. He sprang from his bed, pressing himself into the headboard. He looked around and realized that his phone was still going off. He reached for, but just as his hand was about to grab it, it shut off, the alarm no longer blaring.

"What the…?" he said to himself as he stared at the phone, his hand still extended. Out of nowhere, his room suddenly became illuminated by a blinding light so intense that he had to shield his eyes. "What the hell, man?" he shouted out as he closed his eyes tightly and turned his head while still covering his eyes in an attempt to lessen the shock and slight pain the light was causing.

"Too bright?" he heard a voice say.

"Yes, shut it off," he shouted.

Suddenly, the light faded until it was only shining enough to brighten the side of the room opposite the bed. Chad lowered his hand tentatively and turned toward the source. His eyes still burned a little from the heavy brilliance of a few seconds earlier, so he blinked them rapidly a few times to try and make them feel normal again. When he was certain that he could see without too much interference, he finally looked at whatever had entered his room.

"Jane?" he asked, caught completely off guard. She shook her head, a slight wry smirk curving her lips. "But you look just like –," he stopped himself, his mind finally clicking. "Oh God, what time is it?"

"That would one," the effigy in front of him spoke. "Well, two minutes passed now," she added.

"Crap," Chad groaned as he dropped his head. "You're the first spirit aren't you?"

"The Ghost of Christmas Past, to be exact. The name's a bit of a mouthful, so yes, you can just stick with Spirit while we do this," the Spirit informed him.

Chad looked the Spirit over. It looked like Jane, right down to the dark hair pulled back in a mohawk style ponytail, beaming blue eyes, and slightly pale skin. But her face was still, bordering on stoic. And then there was the way she was standing – shoulders squared, her arms in front of her, hands folded together, her legs just about shoulder width apart – it was calm, yet stern looking. Everything about her was authoritative. The opposite of the actual Jane who, despite gaining some confidence lately, still tended to come across as shy and unassertive. Even the way she was dressed – an ankle-length blue robe with attached hood, what looked like a chunky pair of ankle boots, and a chic looking pair of wire rimmed glassed smartly perched on her nose – screamed that she was all business. I wonder if this is what her mother looked like when she first appeared to my mother, he thought.

"Look…Spirit…no disrespect, but I've, uh, kind of changed my mind about this whole thing," Chad told her.

"Well that's not up to you at this point anymore. So if you would please…," the Spirit motioned with her hand for Chad to get out of the bed. "The faster we begin, the faster I can get you to the point of all this."

Chad groaned and got out of bed, slipping on his slippers and moving toward the surprisingly solid ghostly figure before him. Once he was right next to her, he started to hold out his hand when she surprised him by taking his arm. He looked down at the embrace. "Yes?" the Spirit asked.

"Well…shouldn't I be the one taking your hand or something?"

"Wow, your parents really dropped the ball on the whole raising a gentleman thing, didn't they?" she responded with a glib expression before raising her free hand and snapping her fingers, engulfing both Chad and herself in brilliant white light.

When the light faded Chad found himself with the Spirit standing in a hallway. The floor was carpeted in gleaming baby blue and white, with poinsettia decorations hanging along the walls with the occasional miniature Christmas tree to break up the design every few feet. The trees had to be small because even with the substantial width of the hallway, anything larger that the three foot trees would be too wide and make passing through difficult. There was the subtle hint of evergreen in the air from the live trees that gave him a sudden feeling of nostalgia. But it was the aroma of freshly baked sugar cookies that captured his memories and caused a smile to cross his face.

"Recognize where we are?" the Spirit asked him.

"I'm home…the palace," he answered, as he pulled away from the Spirit. He took a few steps, taking a big, deep breath to capture as much of the smells as he could. "But it hasn't been decorated like this in years. Mom thought all the extra trees were a little…to in your face. So she started to go for a more toned down look. When is this then?" The Spirit shrugged. "Yeah right, you zap us somewhere, and don't know?"

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway. Chad turned and felt his eyes nearly bug out of his head.

"Mom," he gasped as she approached. "Don't freak out okay, this is gonna sound –"

Chad stopped talking as he saw, and mostly felt, his mother walk the through him. He took in a deep breath as she passed, and then he started to feel his chest, looking for some kind of injury.

"What the hell just happened?" Chad asked the Spirit.

"All this…just shadows from the past. We can watch. We can listen. But that's all. They can't see us. They can't hear us. And most of all they can't feel us. So I suggest you follow dear old Mommy to see why we're here," the Spirit advised him.

Chad went in the direction his mother went in, catching up just before she turned into one of the rooms. He paused for a second. He knew where she turned and he was nervous because of it. Steeling himself, he followed her. He walked into what he knew was his bedroom, and felt his jaw slightly drop at the sight of himself.

"Is that Little Chad?" the Spirit asked. Chad turned, almost shocked to see the Spirit since he was sure he'd left her in the hallway. "Spirit…remember? I pop in when necessary. And again…is that Little Chad?" she asked again, this time, the sincerity was evident over the almost snide tone of seconds earlier.

"I'm…," Chad starts as he begins to look around the room for something – anything – to narrow down his age. He walked over to his desk and saw a picture that was laying on it. It was drawing of a Christmas tree with his mother, father, and himself next to it on one side. Oh the other side of the tree are what looks like Fairy Godmother and Jane, the picture of the young fairy with wings and waving out to the him as he looked at it. Written across the top are the words, MERRY CHRISTMAS, in lettering and spelling way beyond what Jane was capable of at that time. He smiled at the thought of Jane sitting at her house, at her little desk, or the kitchen table, or laying on the floor, crayons spread out so she could make this.

"I'm five," he says just above a whisper as he remembered Jane giving him this when they were little.

"Chad, Sweetie," he heard his mother call him. He looked up, ready to respond when he realized that his mother was actually talking to his younger self. Right now, five year old Chad was lying across the bay window that looked out over the coast and the ocean. "As they were leaving, Jane said you looked sad."

Little Chad shrugged.

"Come on, honey, what is it? Tell Mommy."

Little Chad sat up, crossed his legs in front of him and looked at his mother. Then he dropped his gaze and turned toward the window again. Cinderella looked out to see what her son was looking at. "The ocean?" Chad shook his head. She looked again. There wasn't really much out there. Just the ocean and, for better or for worse…

"The Isle of the Lost?" Chad nodded glumly. "Why would you be thinking about such a bad place, Sweetie?"

"Does Santa leave presents for the kids that live there?" Chad asked.

Cinderella was caught off guard. She didn't know how to answer her son, because she'd never considered the question. While the thought of all those villains having children seemed like an impossibility, even she had to admit that it was possible. What kind of parents were the villains? What were the children there like because of them?

"Aw, does Little Chad actually give a damn about the Villain Kids?" the Spirit asked as Cinderella began to try and give her some kind of explanation to her son.

"I didn't know any better," Chad responded. The Spirit looked at him questioningly. "I grew up. I realized that bad apples don't fall far from the tree."

"Bad apples?"

"You see who their parents are," Chad said.

"Mal and her bunch seem to be okay. Freddie and Harriet –"

"Not everyone's good," he cut her off. "Who your parent are matters." The Spirit scoffed. "What?"

"By that logic, you should be hard-working, selfless, and compassionate. All traits whose paths do not lead to me."

"Can we just get out of here?" Chad asked rudely.

The Spirit shook her head. "Not just yet. I still think there's something we should see."

"Like what?" Chad rolled his eyes.

"You know what, Mommy, I'm gonna go write a letter to Santa asking him to make sure he gives presents to the kids on the Isle," younger Chad said excitedly.

Cinderella laughed happily and held her son's face gently. "I think that would be a great idea, baby," she told him, a bright, practically glowing, smile on her face.

Chad got up from the bay seat and started to run toward his desk. All of a sudden he stopped and ran back to his mother. He waved her closer. She leaned down until she was almost eye level with him.

"Will Fairy Godmother let Santa through the barrier?"

Cinderella chuckled. "I'll talk to her so she knows to let Santa through," she answered him. Chad gave a small little jump of excitement and then ran off to his desk. Cinderella just stared at her son, a look of pride on her face at how her son was acting.

"See Chad, you weren't so bad. Tell me, is that sweet little boy still in there?" the Spirit asked him surprisingly gentle – a little hopeful.

"Would we be here if he were?" Chad admitted. The Spirit gave a nod of acknowledgment and proceeded to walk up next to him.

"You're right," she said as she took his arm again. "I think we've gleaned all we can from here. So, let's try and look somewhere else," she decided as she snapped her fingers again.

When they reappeared, Chad and the Spirit were outside. The air was cold and crisp and the ground was covered in white. Chad could feel it on his skin, but found it odd that he didn't actually feel cold despite not wearing any kind of winter clothes. "So, when are we now?"

"You tell me," the Spirit said as she pointed just to the right of them.

Chad looked and smiled. He saw Gerry, Patrick, Jane, and himself walking up the hill. Jane and Patrick were six; he knew because he and Gerry were carrying two sleds each. One belonged to each of them, but the second ones they were carrying were brand new sleds that belonged to Patrick and Jane. He remembered them getting them as Christmas presents because their parents finally decided they were old enough finally go sledding. That makes me about eight, he thought as he watched the way Jane practically skipped along the snow as she held his hand. She was smiling from ear to ear, and Chad remembered that he had to tell her to calm down because she was almost dragging him along up the hill.

"Are we almost there?" Jane asked excitedly, eager to finally be able to use her sled like Chad.

"Almost," Gerry said as he and Patrick traveled just a little bit ahead of Chad and Jane.

"Well, where are we?" the Spirit asked him.

"Tremaine Hill." The Spirit looked at him in disbelief. "You heard me. There a few relatives on that side that aren't horrible. Mom still sends Christmas cards. But today…Gerry and I are taking Patrick and Jane sledding. Jane's really excited. Patrick…he's being a little wuss."

The Spirit poked him in the ribs.

"What? He's afraid of getting hurt. I keep telling him its snow, he'll be fine."

"He's six. He's scared," the Spirit reminded him. "I mean you don't seem to have a problem making sure Jane is safe, do you?" she asked as she pointed to the group. They had finally reached the top of the hill and Chad was checking Jane over. He made sure her jacket was buttoned. Her gloves were on securely. He even checked to make sure that her headband, complete with attached bow, was fitted in place. Chad chuckled at the sight of six-year-old Jane. She was an adorable kid, he thought. It even looked like he was offering to go down with her on her first run.

"Why does Jane get the awesome Chad Charming big brother treatment – and Patrick gets treated like an afterthought?" the Spirit wanted to know.

"Do you see the fifteen year old guy with him? He's got a big brother…he doesn't need another."

The Spirit gave a nod of more or less. "I'm sure Gerry has that same thought about being a big brother. Screw you. Screw Jane too, huh?"

"Watch your mouth okay," Chad replied angrily. "Gerry was awesome. He makes sure Patrick is okay because honestly, the kid's still kind of afraid of his own shadow sometimes. But he still made sure I was okay, and he even looked after Jane when she came around."

"So I guess Gerry passed away before he taught you that it was okay be a big brother to more than just one person, then?" Chad looked at her like he was holding back, a rarity for him. "When it comes to Jane you are pretty good at playing big brother. But the one who actually lost a big brother. The one who needs a big brother. Who, for reasons that are beyond me, has decided to latch onto you to fill that void. And you? You're too caught up in your own teenage crap to see it."

"It's not my job to look out for him," Chad almost shouted.

"It wasn't Gerry's to look out for you, or for Jane. But he did, not because he was asked, not because he was supposed to – but because he wanted to. Because he was a good person that decided it was only right to look out for those around him. And instead of honoring that, you piss all over that memory."

Chad scowled at the spirit, but the tears watering in his eyes were evidence that she had struck a nerve.

"The truth – like the past – hurts sometimes doesn't it?"

"We're done here," Chad growled.

"We could stand to –"

"We're done," he repeated, his voice almost venomous.

The Spirit smiled. "I suppose we could make our last appointment a little early," she said cheerfully.

"No I mean we're done. Take me back to my room," Chad ordered.

The Spirit shook her head. "Like I said, we have one more appointment. And the best was saved for last," she informed him, an almost evil smirk on her face. Before Chad could protest, the Spirit was already snapping her fingers.

When they appeared again they are inside a building. The hallways were a sterile white, the floors covered in a light green and gray tile. The occasional voice came over a PA system, announcing messages that escaped Chad's attention. In fact, everything seemed to escaping Chad's attention the Spirit noticed. He was staring blankly down the hallway, his body still and his face frozen and the color drained from it as he read the sign attached to the end of the hallway wall.

"Take me to my room," he said.

"We still haven't seen –"

"I don't care, take me back," Chad demanded. "I don't want to be here."

"You have to, though," the Spirit told him. "I know it's hard, and I'm sorry for looking gleeful a moment ago, but you do need to see this."

"No, please, I don't want to. Take me back to my room," Chad begged the Spirit. He turned her toward him, and looked into her eyes. They were full of fear and heartbreak. "Please. Take me back to my room. Take me to see anything else, just not this. Please, I'm begging."

"I'm sorry, Chad," the Spirit said, genuine sympathy for what she knew was to come.

"Code Blue, Emergency Room, bed 28. Repeat: Code Blue, Emergency Room, bed 28," came the announcement over the PA system.

Chad stood frozen. Tears were once again welling in his eyes, and if the Spirit didn't know any better, she'd have thought he was going to start shaking. As it was, she needed him to move. She gently took his hand and began leading him. He was tentative at first, but soon enough, she was able to get him moving. When they reached the end of the hallway, they turned to their left, away from the direction that the sign that read, EMERGENCY ROOM, was actually pointing to. Going right, like they were directed, took them to the sign-in desk and waiting area. Going left, took them straight into the triage area. She walked them passed the walls until they were in the thick of things.

Nurses were running back and forth, clearing the hallway. Outside the immediate area of a door with the number 28 on top of the doorway, Chad saw a nurse gently pushing Gerry's parents out of the room. The Archduke looked pale, like all the energy had been sucked out of him. His wife, Prudence, looked into the room in horror, tears running down her face. Suddenly, from the opposite end of the hall, a crash team came running though. Chad saw them speed into Gerry's room. He tentatively moved closer, still holding the hand of the Spirit. He could hear the commotion from inside.

"Someone talk to me," he heard what must be a doctor.

"Heart rate, 65 bpm and dropping…"

"B.P. is 45 over 20…"

"O2 is at 60, and falling…"

When he was finally next to Gerry's parents, Chad looked into the room, and felt himself become sick. He could barely see Gerry on the bed. He was blocked by the mass of medical professionals trying to save his life. He heard someone call out clear, and then he listened to the tell-tale sound of a defibrillator shocking his friend. "Oh God," he heard Gerry's mother sob as they tried another shock from the defibrillator. Chad could hear Gerry's father whispering a prayer under his breath. Suddenly, almost as if someone had turned down the volume in the hallway and the noise from the room, all he and Gerry's parents could hear was a single flat line.

"No! Oh God, no! My boy," wailed Prudence as she buried herself into her husband. There was a flurry of sound as the doctors and nurses tried to revive Gerry. They could hear another sound of the defibrillator as well and then more flat lining. Suddenly, to Chad's horror, four words made their way into the hallway to him, but not Gerry's parents

"Call time of death."

Chad ran his fingers through his hair. He felt his heart begin to race, and he felt like he was having trouble catching his breath. He watched the doctor walk out of the room and walk up to Gerry's parents. "We did all we could, but –"

"Oh God," came the wail from Prudence.

"Doctor…but…that's my…," the Archduke tried to speak, but he was too devastated.

"I'm sorry," the doctor offered in condolence, not knowing anything else to say.

Chad moved toward the room, stopping at the doorway. He looked in and saw Gerry's lifeless body. It was first time he'd ever seen his friend dead since he never went to the funeral. He felt the tears begin to run down his face. As he tried to tell himself that what he was seeing wasn't real, that it was just a really sick instant replay, he felt the Spirit walk up next to him. He felt her take his hand again. "What was…? Why am I seeing this?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Acceptance," the Spirit said.

"Acceptance? Acceptance? What the hell am I expected to accept?" Chad shouted at her as he yanked his hand free if hers.

"That this happened. Was it horrible that it did? Yes. Was it horrible that it was him? It's always horrible when someone that young dies so unexpectedly. But it happens. No one wants it to, but it does. It's called life. But those left behind – those left living – have an obligation to the dead to accept it, and grieve, and to move on. You haven't done that."

"Because it isn't right that he's not here," Chad shouted at her, louder than before.

"You aren't wrong," the Spirit replied, her voice calm in the face of Chad's anger. "But the Chad I've seen tonight, the one who had all that sympathy, and all that thoughtfulness for kids he didn't even know, kids that even the adults around him never cast a thought about – he's hurt. The Chad that never gave a second thought to being a big brother to Jane because she didn't get to know that she had a big sister out there, but had all the potential to be the same for a scared little boy who a year later was going to need you to step into that role, he's still in there.

'But at the risk of sounding like a broken record, you've become angry. And resentful. And just plain mean. And all of that – every bit of it – started right here, in this room, tonight. When you heard that he died, you shut yourself off, and let a piece of you die with him. But unlike Gerry, you can still get that piece back. But you have to be willing to accept a painful, and ugly truth, that sometimes, people leave us, and it hurts, but in the end we –"

"Shut up," Chad shouted at her. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Don't you dare lecture me about acceptance, and truth, and pain. What about my pain? What about the fact that I had no one there to help me. The only person I wanted there to help me…to make sure I was okay…was the person who was gone. He left, and I was left here, by myself. So maybe I used the anger to get through it, but I had to. So you can piss off and take me back if all you're going to do is stand there and tell me I'm wrong," Chad ranted at the Spirit, who, despite a rage that would have filled any mortal person with tears, stood impassively. "Well?"

The Spirit raised her hand and before snapping her fingers said, "I'm sorry, Chad." She then snapped her fingers, and the whole room once again filled with light.