The characters? Property of the WB. The story? Copyrighted by Ishafel 4/29/2002.

Rated R for violence, drug use and adult themes. If you're the kind of person who believes that fanfiction should consist solely of tributes to 7th Heaven because it is the most wonderful show ever, you might just want to stop reading here.

SILENT NIGHT, HOLY NIGHT

Chapter Two

December 23, Evening

They were late, Simon knew, and there was going to be trouble. It was partly his fault; he had made no effort to warn the girls, hadn't helped Ruthie calm Lucy when their older sister panicked. Simon just didn't care. It was funny–he had always thought of himself as the sensitive one, easily cowed. Matt and Lucy were the ones who stood up for their beliefs, who ran into burning buildings and held the hands of starving lepers. But Simon was the only one who could stand up to their parents. Mary defied them, and Robbie had developed a slippery way of getting around Eric, but only Simon dared look them in the eyes these days.

Ruthie guarded the family's secrets carefully, but there was one that wasn't hers to keep. While his sisters slunk into the house with the twins, Simon carried the shopping bags into the garage and up the stairs to the attic. He had at most five minutes, and he quickly lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. All his parents' lectures, all the commercials about the evils of nicotine, came to nothing compared to that first drag of smoke after a long day. He sometimes wondered if even alcohol could taste this good, if this was the feeling his father got when he drank, and if so why he was still so angry. Time was almost up. Quickly Simon stubbed out his cigarette, hid the butt in the hole he had made in the plywood and sprayed air freshener on himself and the bags. He didn't want the girls to know he'd been smoking; he'd promised Ruthie a long time ago that he would strive to be a good man, and despite everything he meant to try.

Ruthie and Lucy had no time to think about Simon. As soon as they'd come in, they'd been pressed into service, getting everything ready for Mary. Their mother hadn't even noticed the time, or wondered where they'd all been. Of course, Annie had been busy finding a tree, baking cookies, and putting up all of the Christmas decorations she usually took weeks to prepare. It was no real surprise she hadn't had time to strip Ruthie's bed and make it up again for Mary, or put her older daughter's clothing back into the dresser Lucy now used. The only surprise was how little the house felt like Christmas, even covered in holly and red and green ribbon and smelling of vanilla and gingerbread. There was something empty about it, empty and hollow as the heart of the Camden family.

Eric's car was missing, so he probably wasn't home yet. Robbie sighed with relief as he opened the front door, Matt at his heels. It had been a long day at the construction site where they both worked, and he didn't want to deal with the Reverend's too-frequent stares, awkward pauses, and convenient touches, or Annie's rage at what she saw as a deliberate betrayal. The house looked good, almost too good; the stockings hanging from the mantel were at measured distances, the magazines on the coffee table had been fanned out in perfect formation, and even the tree looked as if Annie had trimmed it according to a blueprint.

Carefully avoiding the pristine rug Robbie and Matt crept toward the stairs, but they weren't quiet enough. Annie, immaculately clad in a starched apron, shot out of the kitchen clutching a wooden spoon. Matt, flanking Robbie, thought that she resembled a general, bayonet in hand, leading a charge. He knew it was important not to move too suddenly, but it was an effort to remain standing firm in the face of whatever drove his mother. They all pretended not to know abut her illness; each blamed the changes in her personality on the tumor in her breast she thought was a secret, but this close to Annie it was clear that there was more wrong than cancer. She was tearing herself apart and even death might be merciful. "You're late," she told them sharply.

"It's okay, Mrs. Camden, really," Robbie said softly. He reached out and gently took the spoon from her. "What are you cooking? It smells delicious, and I'm sure Mary will love it."

Suddenly Annie's face crumpled. "She's late, too," she gulped. "Mary's late, and Eric's late, and now everything will be ruined."

Matt couldn't bear to see his mother cry, especially now, knowing how sick she was. "They'll be here," he lied. "Mary's flight from New York was delayed, is all. I'm going to go upstairs and change, and then I'll go to the airport and pick her up. I'll take Simon and Ruthie with me; they'll like that. And on the way there we'll stop and remind Dad about dinner. He's probably just caught up in a counseling session–you know how he gets."

"Oh, Matt, I love you so much," his mother sobbed, throwing her arms around him. "You always make everything all right."

"I love you too, Mom," Matt said heavily. He started up the stairs and after a moment Robbie followed silently. Near the top he stopped and turned back. Annie was wiping her eyes on her apron, grief and confusion gone as if they had never been. And perhaps they hadn't. Perhaps they were as much a lie as everything else in Glenoak.

"What are you going to do now?" Robbie asked Matt. "Do you think Mary's really at the airport?"

"I don't know for sure," Matt sighed. "But I imagine she's at Wilson's. She couldn't pay the rent on the Buffalo apartment anymore so I think she's been staying with him and Billy. She has this crazy idea that Mom and Dad are redoing the garage apartment for her and the baby, and that that will be their Christmas present to her."

Robbie laughed. "I'm surprised your mom's even letting her in the house. It's driving them crazy not knowing whose baby she's carrying."

"Yeah." Matt still wasn't entirely sure the baby wasn't Robbie's. It ate at him, living with the guy day after day, not knowing. He owed Robbie a debt he could never repay, and not trusting him hurt. "Look, I'd better grab a jacket and get going. Can you hold the fort down, do you think?"

"Sure," Robbie answered. "Lucy and I'll get the twins ready for bed and read them Christmas stories, you focus on rounding up the missing sheep."

Matt entered Simon's room without knocking, taking his brother by surprise. Simon was lying on his bed, writing in what looked suspiciously like a journal–a bad move in the Camden house, where privacy was an endangered species at best. There was no fear or embarrassment in Simon's expression, though. He looked angry, and a little bit dangerous. Matt's little brother had become a man in his absence, and not a man Matt always liked.

Now he erupted. "Jesus Christ, Matt. Annie and Eric are bad enough, without you starting. Get out, and next time knock before you come in."

Shocked, Matt replied without thinking. "Watch your language, Simon! Just because Dad's not around much anymore doesn't mean you can't be respectful."

Simon stood up slowly, his eyebrows lowering. He had grown during the two months Matt had spent in New York. Grown and developed. He was as big as Matt, and probably twenty pounds heavier. For the first time ever, Matt backed down from his little brother. He told himself that it was because there wasn't time to fight, but in his heart he wondered how he would have settled things if he hadn't been in such a hurry. Without another word to Simon, he turned and left the room.

Ruthie, scrambling down the attic stairs, caught Matt just outside Simon's door. "Are you going to the airport now?" she demanded. "Can I come with you? I really need to talk to you."

"Sure," Matt said wearily. "I was just coming to ask if you were up for a drive."

Sitting next to her brother in the car, Ruthie stared out the window. "Where do you think it all went wrong, Matt?" she asked.

He sighed. "Oh Ruthie, I don't know. Why would you even ask that?"

"Because I'm taking a survey!" she sniped. "I'm asking because I want to know. Isn't it about time someone asked questions?"

Matt thought about it for a minute. "I guess it went wrong for Dad when I married Sarah–it shook his faith in God, and God was all he had. I think for Mom it was a little later, when she found the lump–well, I'm sure you know. Sometimes a marriage just isn't enough to hold to people together, Ruthie. It stops being a boundary and becomes a wall. Mom and Dad weren't strong enough to break down that wall, so they turned on each other. And they don't believe in divorce, so now they're really and truly trapped. Until Mom dies or Dad implodes, anyway."

"Is that what happened to you and Sarah, too?"

"No," Matt answered sadly. "I just wasn't good enough for Sarah. I wasn't strong enough or smart enough for her. Being in New York for me was like being lost in the desert, wandering. She wanted me to give up my family and my God, and I couldn't do it. Not for all the love in the world."

"Hey," Ruthie said softly. "We're almost to the church. You pull in and I'll run and talk to Dad. He's more likely to listen to me, anyway."

"Thanks," Matt smiled. "You're all right sometimes, Ruthie."

His youngest sister was pleased to see him happy for the first time in weeks. "I'm better than all right, Matt Camden," she said. "And don't you forget it."

Ruthie hurried toward her father's office, a little worried about what she might see. Some days her father was better than others. Some days he was too much alone, and without God to keep him company, he had developed some new bad habits. Simon had said, rather accurately if unkindly, that Eric had replaced Jesus Christ with Jack Daniels. Tonight, though, her father didn't look drunk. He was sitting at his desk, staring down at a sheet of paper. As Ruthie moved closer, she saw that his right hand was folded carefully around the butt of a gun. Quietly, she backed out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

"He said he'd think about it," Ruthie told Matt perkily, climbing back into the car. "Now let's pick up Mary."

"Great," Matt said. "Uh–do you know where she is?"

"Try the police station," Ruthie answered, flipping her hair up into a twist and looking at herself in the rearview mirror. "Do you think I'm pretty, Matt?"

Matt stared at her. "Sure, Ruthie, you're very pretty. Why the police station?"

Ruthie laughed. "So you really don't know?"

"Know what?"

"It's Sergeant Michaels. Sergeant Michaels is her new "beau." You knew that though, right? Please tell me you knew that!"

Slowing the car almost to a stop, Matt turned to her. "You're serious. Michaels is the father of her baby?"

"I'm not positive," Ruthie responded, biting her bottom lip. "But, Matt–I'm pretty sure. She's always had this, well, this thing about men in authority. Soldiers, ministers, firemen, pilots, cops. And you know how the sergeant and Dad had a fight, right? It was while you were in New York. I think Sergeant Michaels was sick of Dad interfering, and with Mary throwing herself at him, I guess he saw an opportunity and he took it. Don't be mad, Matt. He's planning on marrying her as soon as his divorce is final."

"So she's done this before?" Matt asked painfully.

Ruthie nodded. "I guess her luck just ran out, this time around."

"This'll kill Dad, finding out," Matt said softly.

For a long time Ruthie didn't answer. Matt had turned around and was driving back toward the police house before she breathed, "Yeah."

In his office at the church, Eric Camden finished the note he was writing to his children and stared blankly at a poster on the wall. It showed a strip of white sand, marred only by a single wavering line of footprints. Once there had been two sets. He put the gun in his mouth and squeezed the trigger gently, just as the Colonel had taught him long ago.

Lucy and Robbie were reading The Night Before Christmas to the twins, smiling as Sam and David laughed and clapped. Without warning the door burst open. Annie stood in the doorway. "You're being too loud," she said, almost conversationally. "And you shouldn't be sitting on the bed together like that. You aren't married, you know. Fornication is a sin." As abruptly as she had come she was gone.

Lucy stared at the empty doorframe, her eyes filling with tears. "She wasn't always like this," she sniffled. "It's the cancer. It must have gotten to her brain."

Robbie pressed a soft kiss on her palm. "It'll be okay, Luce. Someday it'll all be okay again."

"Be okay," David echoed, but from him it sounded more like a prayer than a declaration.