A/N: Chuck and Sarah's second daughter, Gwen, who is eleven-years-old. She is not a happy bunny.

Thanks to those of you that reviewed the last chapter on their daughter Kathryn. Not so many, but I guess that's not surprising as she was a totally new OC.

MyNameIsJeffNImLost again beta'd for me. Correcting and Americanizing. As usual, any mistakes found are all mine.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or the lyrics I have used, but, as always, recommend listening to the songs or even watching them on YouTube, as well as watching the show.

After You, Christmess
Gwen

The X in X-Mas is a substitute crucifix for Christ
A-one, A-two, A-one, two, three, four
No Christmas for John Quays
No Christmas for John Quays
No Christmas for John Quays
No Christmas for John Quays

The powders reach you
And the powders teach you
When you find they can't reach you
There is no Christmas for junkies

"No Christmas for John Quays"
The Fall

She's always felt that everyone thinks Maire is perfect and she, Gwen Bartowski, is just 'alright'. They don't say it, but they think it. Her mom and dad were just too nice to say it. And Maire, herself, goody-two-shoes, would never say anything like that.

Gwen has always trailed in her sister's footsteps. Never attaining the grades that Maire did; never swimming quite as fast as Maire; never running as fast as Maire; never finishing her homework as fast as Maire had at her age; never being as pretty as Maire. Basically, never being Maire.

Just plain old Gwen. The second one. Following three years behind. Second to the post.

She had told her mom how she felt once. That was when she was four years old, just before Kathryn was born. Her mom had been shocked and tried everything she could to persuade Gwen that it wasn't true. Sorry, Mom, facts are facts. She was second in everything.

Her mom had managed to get hold of an English children's book called "The Second Princess." It was supposed to show how being second wasn't bad. All it said to Gwen was, 'You aren't first, loser.'

So, here is Gwen, seven years later, still playing second fiddle.

She often sits on the bus, travelling home from school, thinking she wishes she had been the first, she was fourteen, and Maire came second. She knows she shouldn't want to hold Maire back. She ought to be proud of her big sister, but it's just hard, right?

Today is different. Today she is glad she's not fourteen and in Maire's year group. Not being as bright as her sister, she could well have been in classes with that boy, maybe even been friendly with him.

No, today, she's happy not to be in that grade.

She has heard before of kids like this, but never in her school.

A fourteen-year-old admitted to hospital after overdosing. She didn't know what drug he'd been taking or even if he had chosen to take whatever it was. He might have been forced to take it. Whatever it was, he wouldn't be spending time at home for Christmas.

Jon Key was his name. Someone that April's brother Peter knew. Not a friend, but someone in his class for Math. Meth rather than math, maybe. No, she shouldn't make fun of it. It wasn't a funny matter.

One of the really nasty boys in Peter's grade had found an old song from way back, nearly fifty years ago, in a more troubled time. A British song. They had played it as Pater's Math group had gotten to the classroom on the day after that year had been told about Jon. "No X-Mas for John Quays" almost seemed as though it had been written for him, even though Jon Key wouldn't be born until thirty-four years later.

Anyway, Maire is unlikely to know him, but Gwen might be wrong on that.

Would it spoil Maire's Christmas to hear about Jon? Him lying in a hospital bed, presumably 'drying out' or whatever the phrase was. Kathryn really didn't know, but she couldn't hide it from her sister, Maire would be mad if she found out later and then discovered that her sister had known and not told her.

No, Gwen will tell her big sister. Not gloatingly. Although pleased it isn't someone she knew herself, Gwen knows this terrible tale just needed to be heard. What's Aunt Ellie's phrase? Inwardly digested. Sounds medical.

Tomorrow is the day Mom will be manic. Flitting about everywhere and shouting orders to be followed precisely by who ever received them. Or there'd be trouble. So, tomorrow was not a good time for a quiet chat with Maire. Then it'll be Christmas Eve and people will start arriving. More chaos. No talk time then, either. Christmas Day was obviously out too.

No, it'll have to be tonight. That should be possible, now that Maire had split up with that jerk of a boyfriend. Gwen will pull her away, after dinner, and take her to one of their bedrooms and talk.

Of course, Maire will be suspicious. Not being sure of Gwen's agenda would make her worried. She'd do a Dad and spiral into all sorts of crazy thoughts. Gwen chuckles thinking what those could be.

No. Don't start thinking of pranks to pull on your sister!

Before that, she needs to talk to one of her parents about it. Not to get help or seek reassurance, just someone to listen. Although a good listener, a great listener in fact, Mom is already too wound up to calmly sit while Gwen talks. Dad is still travelling, but getting nearer. She'll call him.

She pulls out her cell phone and presses the speed dial for him.

"Hi, Gwen." He sounds tired, but still his voice manages to lighten her mood. It always does. How does he do that?

"Hi, Dad, can I talk to you about something?" Gwen reconsiders her request, "Talk at you, actually?"

"Sure you can, Gwen. Anytime."

She knows that isn't strictly true. There are a lot of times when she can't talk to him; two immediately spring to mind: when he is in meetings and when he and Mom lock themselves away in their bedroom. She keeps quiet about that. "I found out about a boy in Maire's year who is in hospital." She pauses, trying to think how best to tell it.

"Aannnd?" her dad asks.

She manages not to chuckle at how he sounds. She decides to just go for it. "He overdosed on some drug. I haven't heard why. Whether he was forced to or not. He won't be at home for Christmas."

There was a pause, then, "Do you know him?"

She is glad to tell Dad, "No, I don't. He's someone April's brother, Peter, knows."

"Is Peter okay?" Trust Dad to think that way. He is always such a caring person.

Gwen hadn't thought to ask that, but he wasn't actually friends with Jon. "They're not friends, Dad."

"Good."

They both sat in silence for a few seconds. Then she heard, "I'm guessing you don't want any advice or for me to solutionize."

She chuckled. Dad is always coming up with solutions to problems that don't really exist, and, like a lot of men, always wants to fix the problem you are talking about, rather than just listen to you talk about it. "No. I just wanted to say it out loud."

"So, you've not told your mom?" It's the inevitable question.

"No, she's already stressed enough." Then she wishes she hadn't said that.

She could almost hear his shoulders slump as he let out a deep sigh. "I'm causing that."

"It's not just you, Dad, but that is part of it." She doesn't like to lie to him, but feels bad saying that. Then she remembers something. "Dad, I haven't asked; how are you doing?"

He huffs. "My flight back from Tokyo stopped at Chicago and got stuck there. I been driving since then. I told you mom a little while ago and she's mad at me about it."

Gwen's not usually the one to put people at ease or to help them, so this is a new experience. "She's just stressed about Christmas and other things. You not being here to help her through it is upsetting, but I doubt she's actually mad at you."

"Thanks, Gwen. I'll be home in a couple of days, maybe three. How's everyone else?"

"Well…" She told him about Maire splitting up with her boyfriend. He was upset about that. Not that her sister was no longer with that jerk, just that, as a father, he wasn't there for her when it happened.

She then told him about Kathryn desperately still believing in Santa, in spite of her friends.

She also told him that the mission commander was marshalling her team ready to take on a force no one can resist… Christmas!"

He chuckles at the end.

"We all miss you, Dad, and can't wait to see you." And that's true. She does miss him.

"Aww. Thanks, Gwen. I miss you all too. I will definitely see you soon."

Not soon enough for Mom, she thinks. "Yeah, see ya, Dad."

He ends the call.

She decides to try to calm Mom down and make sure she knows how much Dad misses her.

She then tries to think of positive things, to take her mind off of all this drug stuff. Happy things like seeing her grannies again and her aunt Molly, and, of course, her wonderful dad. Then family time. She loves her mom and dad, and her little sister and brother, even Maire. They will have a wonderful Christmas together. She'll just try not to think of that boy probably stuck away because of his stupid choices.

A/N: Not everyone gets to spend Christmas happily with their families. There are a number of reasons, this just being one of them. We should spare a thought for them and their plights as we tuck into our Christmas dinners or drink those Christmas drinks.

The song here, "No X-Mas for John Quays" was one I loved when I was at university. Punk had come and gone in the UK and the variety of post-punk bands was staggering. The Fall, a band from Manchester UK, delivered this harsh song on their first album, "Live at the Witch Trials."

Next chapter we will see how the father of four kids, Chuck Bartowski, is faring, making his way home.

A review here would be nice.