Peter gazed up at the cherry red glass ball with wonder, his wide, bright eyes taking in every detail. Reaching up tentatively, Peter's finger's itched to touch the perfect circle. As his hands closed around the shiny round ornament, Peter smiled slightly, grinning as he stared back at his own face, oddly disfigured by the circular shape before him.

"Peter Henry Pevensie!"

Peter jerked suddenly, his Aunt's sharp, harsh voice startling him, his eyes widening in horror as the glass ball slipped from his fingers and shattered to the floor, now one in a million pieces. He heard his aunt gasp, tearing his horrified eyes away from the shard beneath him to look with dread at his aunt.

Her face, like Peter believed his own must look, wore a mask of surprise and horror. Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes. He knew it now, he was in deep trouble.

"Peter! What have you done?" She screeched.

Peter gulped, wincing as her voice bit into his core. His lower lip trembled as attempted to make a reply.

"I-I, I didn't mean to Aunt Alberta." Peter stuttered.

The noise from the room attracted others, and soon Peter's Mother, his Uncle Harold, his siblings and his Grandmother stood around him. Helen, rushing straight to her son's side, immediately checked his hands for cuts and his clothes from shards of glass. Six year old Susan, stood in the far corner, as if aware of the trouble brought on the shards that littered the floor.

"You see Mildred?" said Alberta, turning to Peter's Grandmother. "This is why I just can't stand to have your daughter's dreadful children in my home! My Eustace, he would never do such a thing, and he less than half Peter's age!"

Helen's head shot up, her eyes blazing protectively.

"It was only an accident Alberta, I'm sure Peter didn't mean to break the ball."

Alberta sniffed indignantly, and Helen turned to her mother for support, but like always, her mother's gaze was cold and unfeeling. Helen should have known better than try.

"Really Helen," said Grandmother, glancing with disdain at her oldest an only daughter.

"You should've taught them better."

Helen did her best to mask her hurt, running her hands over Peter's hair and pulling him close as he sniffled.

"I'm sorry mother." Helen hissed, using all her control not to scream.

"I'm sorry if I don't meet you're approval."

The silence that hung in the room was deafening, Peter looked up at his mother, regret evident in his smooth features. Reaching up, Peter took his mother's hand in his, only to find it was trembling slightly. Doing his best to comfort her, he squeezed her hand softly, hoping she'd understand.

Just then, the front door burst open, and John, with Lucy over his shoulder and packages under his arm, came striding in, followed closely by Helen's father, and a rosy cheeked Edmund. Their mood, unlike the icy interior around them, seemed bright and merry, and those on Christmas Eve should be.

His mother's brother, Uncle Harold, turned silently, fleeing the room swiftly. He was a quiet, meek spirited man, and conflict was one of the many things he dreaded. As he inched quietly away, Peter caught the small, pitying look he shot in his direction.

One by one, the room emptied, Aunt Alberta, throwing her hands up in the air in defeat, Grandmother, grabbing Eustace by the hand right behind her. Peter looked down at the small, red shards that littered the floor, wondering how something so small could cause such a big problem. He looked back up again as his mother patted him half-heartedly on the shoulder, her face turned away from him as she fled the room.

"Peter?" His father questioned, his eyebrows raised in question.

Peter's eyes darted back to the floor, shame filling him. He hadn't meant to cause such a fuss, he'd just wanted hold the beautiful glass ball.

"I… I didn't…" Peter choked back the tears that now threatened to spill from his eyes, no longer bright and carefree.

His father set down Lucy, patting her hair before she toddled off to the kitchen to join her Grandfather. Hands in his pockets, Peter watched tearfully as his father sat down on the floral sofa, patting to the seat beside him.

Swiping his hand under his now drippy nose, Peter shuffled slowly to sit beside his father.

"I didn't mean to do it Dad, it's all my fault Mum is sad."

His father smiled sadly, placing a comforting hand in his son's shoulder.

"It's alright little man, your Mum knows it was an accident, it's just hard for her. You know how sometimes you fight with Susie and Eddie? A long time ago, Mum had a fight with her Mum, your Grandma, and well… it's hard. But you know Pete, your Mum always loves you, no matter what alright? And right now, more than ever, she needs us to be strong for her. Can you do that?"

Peter turned his head, looking his father straight in the eye.

"I think I can." Said Peter, more serious than he'd ever been.

"Good man." His father said, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"Go in then, she needs you now."

Peter nodded again, standing and walking down the hall to the guest room where his parents and Lucy slept. Peeking his head in the door, Peter saw his mother, sitting hunched over on the bed, tears running down her face. Peter knocked softly, giving his mother a moment; he knew how she hated them to see her cry.

"Mum? Mum are you alright?" Peter called out softly.

Silence for a moment, then sniffling.

"Uh, yes darling, I'm alright."

Slowly, Peter pushed open the door, his face full of remorse as he moved towards his mother. Standing next to her, he placed his hand on her knee, trying to let her know somehow, that he was sorry.

She smiled slightly, wrapping her arms around him, not needing any other words. Peter hugged her tightly, burying his face in her hair, breathing in her sweet, rosy smell.

"I love you Mum."

"I love you more Peter."

Sitting back, wiping the last of the tears from her face, Helen took Peter's hand in hers, leading him towards the door.

"What do you say, we go try for a start fresh?"

Peter nodded, squeezing his mother's hand tightly.

"I like that idea, I like that very much."

As Peter and his mother walked hand in hand to join their family, Peter decided that Christmas with the Scrubbs might not be so bad after all.