Disclaimer: I still don't own. Sad, poor me.

A/N: My first Christmas (or any other holiday) ficlet! This one is centred on Jimmy and Hazel, since, well, who really knows all that much about their relationship? Or Hazel, for that matter? So, fluffy sweetness torn between frustrating semi-angst and descriptive language ensue. Read, review, and happy holidays!

Wonderland

The sky was a milky white and as I looked around, I could hardly see anything due to the swirls of snow blowing by.

I loved the winter. I loved the feel of pricks of snow against my skin, the holiday cheer and the warmth generated from making other people happy, and how the city would always be blanketed in some sort of urban winter wonderland - my wonderland for a season. There was never snow in Somalia, from what little I remembered of it.

That was why I was outside today, on Christmas Eve, walking along endless stretches of icy sidewalk and lit up houses with frosty windows. A few people hurried by, bundled in scarves and parkas, laden with shopping bags.

Ten more minutes of walking led me to the park, where a shadowy figure was sitting next to the swings. I squinted, waving off snowflakes in my eyes so I could see, and my heart made a strange skittering flip. "Jimmy?"

He gave me a floppy sort of wave and I joined him, grasping his hand and kissing him on the cheek. His skin was tinged red and cold. He wheeled himself over to the swing set, where I sat, rocking slightly back and forth, my feet still never touching the ground even though I was turning seventeen in a few months.

An awkward silence stretched. Things hadn't been the same since he had been admitted out of the hospital. I closed my eyes, my bare hand in his mittened one, listening to the whistling roar of the wind and snow and content to be with him.

"So, what are you doing here?" I asked.

He shrugged. "What about you?"

I shot him a Look. "I asked first."

He let go of my hand, dusting snow off the arms of his wheelchair. "They went on some stupid business trip again. I didn't feel like hanging around in an empty home."

I didn't have to ask to know that they were his parents. I took his hand again, liking the wooly feel of his mittens. "Oh. That sucks."

"It does, but whatever. It was like this last year so I ought to be used to it, right?" He looked up at me, at last, and pursed his lips. "So what about you? What brings you here on this fine wintry day?"

I smiled, wanting to comfort him. "It's a fine wintry day. I'm soaking it all in, I guess."

He smiled too, and then shivered as another swirl of snow gusted by.

We somehow ended up at his condominium, me pushing him. It was large and grand with tinted windows and fancy balconies and, in a way, foreboding. We nodded to the doorman and stepped into the empty lobby before entering the elevator.

Another silence ensued as I pressed 24. I licked my dry lips, my mind pondering of what to say.

"Uh, nice elevators."

Smart, Aden. Real witty.

He gave a strange look. "You've been here before, Hazel."

I chew the fleshy inner of my mouth, taking in all that chrome and wondering what to say next. The elevator stopped with a ding and I continued pushing him.

"Right. I was trying to break the ice – the silence, whatever." I took a deep breath. "I don't know what to say to you anymore."

He craned his head to look at me, his brows furrowed. "Stop." I let go and he spun his wheelchair so that he was facing me. "Why not? Because I'm crippled? Because -"

"No! No. Jimmy, no. We just haven't talked in awhile." Tears stung my eyes unexpectedly and suddenly all I could see was a blur of him. "Like really talked. All we've been doing since you've returned was to watch DVDs at Craig's or hang out with Paige and Marco. We've never really – I mean – sometimes it's like you don't want to be alone with me. I don't know how to act around you anymore."

Months of frustration poured out of me; as did the tears. I felt so self-absorbed suddenly; I was whining with tears streaming down my cheeks to someone, my boyfriend, who was still coping with the sudden loss of everything he worked for...his future, his independence, everything.

He stared at me, his hands quaking a bit. "You – I – Hazel. I don't -"

I knelt so we were eye-to-eye. "I'm sorry. I know...I'm selfish. I should leave now." I placed my hands on the plush beige carpeting to lift myself up, but his hand darted out so he was holding my arm.

"Don't go." He was still grasping my arm, even when I told him I would stay. "We'll talk, Hazel. We've never really done that before. Not about feelings or anything. We'll do that now."

And he told me everything in that ritzy, dimly-lit hallway; about how he felt guilty for Spinner's expulsion even though he, Spinner, was responsible for his crippling, how everyone either felt sorry for him or avoided him, how many of his friends had deserted him, how he was afraid of losing me, how...

He finally ran out of breath as I let his words wash over me, ignoring the vice-like grip he had on my arm. His breathing was tinged with agony and anger his gasps came out in shallow puffs. I gently pried his fingers away and opened the door to his suite, wheeling him inside and turning on the lights. There were sprigs of what looked like plastic holly and mistletoe all over the walls. Strange.

He saw my eyebrows draw together and smirked, an almost inconspicuous trace of anger still on his face. "Tacky decorations, I know. Mom wanted to make me feel at home, with them being gone and all."

I gave him a sympathetic smile. A wave of warmth ran over me and I took off my jacket, wet with melted snow and hung it – and his, too – up.

The living room area was bathed in orange – orange walls, brown furniture, yellow light emitting from the chandeliers. I sank onto the brown couch and Jimmy perched his wheelchair next to me.

I looked over his shoulder at the window; the snow had receded to a light flurry, though it had already mounded about four inches high on the windowsill.

We talked about everything. This time, we weren't venting, and finally, finally, everything was comfortable between us. We discussed Terri, Paige's fling with Mr. Oleander and me feeling as though I was always second best, his time at the hospital, my love of winter, his Kid Elrick concert, my family's annual celebration of Christmas even though we were Muslim - "Hey, it's a western world," randomness such as spores and the hibernation of squirrels, and our futures.

We never ran out of things to say, never sugar coated anything, and were completely honest with each other. But after an hour of so, Jimmy grabbed the remote and turned on the television to a corny holiday special consisting of clay-made characters and the traditional problem-climax-solution plot. Plot of our lives, kind of. I watched flashes of light colour the shine of his eyes – purple, then red, then green as a teeny voice squeaked, "Oh, no, Santa! Whatever will we do?"

His eyes shifted as he caught me looking at him and one eyebrow gave a little inquisitive quirk. "Stupid show, eh?"

I smiled at him as an answer yes, taking all of him in. "You won't lose me, Jimmy," I told him, eliminating a fear that he had mentioned in the hall.

He took my handand using his free hand, cupped the back of my hair so I could draw nearer to him. "And you're - you've never been second-best, Hazel. Not to me." He kissed me and it felt familiar and sweet, the feeling of it traveling down my throat and warming my stomach. "I love you, okay?"

I watched that kaleidoscope of colours tinting the side of his face now. Each Christmas since my mom, dad, and brothers had emigrated from Somalia had been special. This year was no different.

"I love you too. Happy holidays."

The End