Standard disclaimer: Gundam Wing is not ours. Neither is Christmas Carol. Much love to all our readers and the LJ ladies. This one is dedicated to you. Thanks for the support.

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Okay, that ghost wasn't that scary either! I want my money back!

You didn't pay anything idiot. You weren't scared at all?

Look, that pink girl was scary and so was the clown, but the ghosts aren't!

Okay, okay. We have one more ghost and then were finished, okay?

Let me guess, he won't be scary.

I wouldn't tell him that....

Quatre pulled the blankets up to his chin and eased his aching head down on his pillow. Damn those ghosts were rough. The afterlife must be a haven for the S&M crowd. Well, the last one couldn't be any worse than the others.

The temperature in his room suddenly dropped 10 degrees.

Quatre shivered. His bed curtains began to twist as a sudden chilling draft blew through the room. He looked towards the foot of his bed.

The bell tolled three.

Out of the darkness at the foot of his bed, an eerie blue light began to glow. It outlined a figure standing there. The ghost wore a long black trench coat that stayed still as the spectral wind howled around the room. The face was in shadow, but two chilling blue eyes were visible, glowing faintly.

Quatre found himself hugging his headboard. He pulled himself together.

"I guess you're the third ghost?"

Silence.

"Uh... you are a bit more impressive than the other two, 'specially the last one..."

The specter growled, and the eerie light intensified.

Quatre suddenly remembered the last ghost's parting words... and his comments about a jealous and possessive social life. As he scrambled for something to say, the being stepped closer to the bed, its hand diving into the shadows by its side.

Quatre found himself looking down the barrel of a large silver gun.

I take it back. I'm freaked out.

Good.

Wait! Why does he have Vash's gun?

It's big and scary looking.

Ah. That's true. Carry on...

"Uh. Not that he wasn't good at his job. Really. I'm convinced. I'll stop being a miserable bastard..." Quatre babbled.

BANG!

"OUCH!!!" Quatre rubbed his shoulder, surprised that it wasn't broken and bleeding. It sure had felt like he had gotten shot, but there was no wound. "You shot me!"

"I'm glad you figured that out," the specter replied dryly.

"That hurt!"

"Good."

BANG!

"God DAMNIT! Quit shooting me!"

"No."

BANG!

"OUCH! Why are you doing that?!"

"Get up."

"You could've just asked." Quatre climbed out of bed. The gun swung in his direction again.

"I'm out of bed."

"We have to go look at your future."

"I won't have a future if you keep shooting me!"

"You won't have one if I don't, you mean." The ghost smiled and Quatre shivered. "The bullets are filled with Holiday Spirit. You'll catch it one way- or another."

"So, you're just going to force it on me?"

"Yes."

BANG!

The world exploded.

Oyo! Best effect yet!

I think so too, now be quiet. You're wrecking the spooky mood.

Quatre blinked. They stood on the same street corner that he and the Ghost of Christmas Present had first arrived on. People were once again walking around and wishing each other a Merry Christmas. But the specter at his side gestured to a group of old men standing on the corner.

"Well, all I know is that the miserable bastard is finally dead," one of them said, adjusting his odd looking glasses.

"I wonder who he left his money to," another one with a very long nose sniffed. "I'm sure he left plenty!"

"Not to the charities that's for sure!" The tallest commented and the group snickered.

"Are you planning on going to the funeral Doctor J?" The long nosed one asked.

"Depends. Do you think they'll serve lunch?" The group snickered again and strode off.

"They mean me, don't they?" Quatre asked the ghost. The ghost merely glared back. "Well, they are in for a surprise. I left specific plans for my funeral and they don't include lunch!"

"It's your funeral," the ghost agreed.

"That doesn't sound pleasant when you say it."

BANG!

The world exploded again.

"Damn it! Take the phrase as a compliment! Psychopath!"

"Thank you." The ghost waved his gun at the shop behind him. "In there."

A woman leaned over a shop counter, regarding the girl in front of her.

"Well, back from the house of the dead. Anything good Hilde?"

"Not really Miss Une. No porn, no jewelry, no special toys. Just these." The girl tossed a bundle of blankets on the counter. The shopkeeper ran a hand over the blankets, her glasses glinting.

"Why Hilde, they're still warm. I don't pay extra for that you know."

"What if I warm them for you..."

"Oh ugh!" Quatre stumbled out of the shop. "I am going to burn those blankets when I get home..."

BANG!

Quatre was almost used to the pain now. Though he didn't think it wise to say it to the specter next to him. He stood in front of a familiar ramshackle building.

"Trowa's house. At least his sisters are better looking..." Quatre mumbled as the ghost shoved him through the door.

The girls were huddled in a corner, weeping.

"I can't believe he's gone!" Cathy wailed.

"Wow, at least someone misses me, that's good right?" Quatre turned to the spirit.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"OUCH!"

"Don't be an idiot." The ghost crossed his arms. "They aren't weeping for you!"

The door opened behind him and Trowa came in alone, looking pale and sad. His sisters didn't rise to greet him; instead he went and joined them in their huddle.

"Did you pick a good spot?" Carrie asked him.

"I did." Trowa replied. "It overlooks the whole city. Tiny Trieze... loved the city."

"I can hear him now," Clarrisa wept. "Someday I'll rule all of this! He used to say."

"And then he'd laugh," Cathy added. "BHAHAHAHA! Remember?"

"I have worse news girls." Trowa said. "Mr. Winner is dead."

Cathy sat up and dried her tears. "Why is that bad news?" She asked. "We should be breaking out the champagne for that one! You can finally go work for Mr. Merquise! He keeps asking you to come and be his personal assistant."

"I know," Trowa looked worn. "And I will. It's just..."

"You loved him," Carrie hugged him. "Even if he was a miserable bastard."

"He wasn't the first time I met him..."

"We know. We know." Clarrisa patted him. "But he's gone now."

Quatre blinked.

"Barton's in love with me?"

BANG!

"What the hell was that for?"

"Idiot."

"I know! Wow, if I had known that just think about what I could've gotten him to do for me. Maybe that money laundering..."

BANG! BANG!

Quatre fell to the cold ground. And jumped right back up. He had landed on a freshly turned grave.

"What the hell?"

"Precisely." The ghost smiled again. "Let me put it to you this way, Quatre Winner. Change your ways. Become a loving, kind and gentle man or..."

"Or what? Spend eternity with Rashid in chains?"

"Oh no." The ghost's smile grew. "You'll spend eternity with this..." The grave gaped and Quatre fell into blackness.

But then... a vision appeared.

"There you are silly boy! I've been waiting for you! I can't wait to introduce you to all my pets!"

"AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!" Quatre wailed in horror.

He found himself quivering at the feet of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.

"Not that! Not that! Please no! I'll be good! I promise! I'll give money to charity! I'll rip up all my leases! I'll marry Barton and adopt his sisters and whatever else you tell me to do! I'll keep Christmas all year round. Anything if it will save me from THAT!!!!"

The barrel of the silver gun touched Quatre right between the eyes.

"Good boy," the ghost purred. "Keep your promise, or that pink hell will be yours. Don't forget!"

BANG!

Quatre sat up. He was in his own bed. With a sigh of relief he noted the complete lack of pink anywhere. He was alive and there was no way that he was going to end up in that horrific place again.

He jumped out of bed and ran to the window, flinging it open. Down below on the street corner was a small group of women. They looked vaguely familiar.

"Excuse me ladies!" He called down to them.

"Yes?" One of them replied looking up. "We're here caroling by the way- nothing else!"

"What day is it?"

"What day is it?" The woman repeated incredulously. "Is this a trick question?"

"Humor him Rose," one of them whispered. "It's that sweet guy that gave us the wreath yesterday!"

Rose shrugged. "It's Christmas Day!"

"Oh good, I didn't miss it!" Quatre grinned at them.

"Had too much eggnog last night sir?" The other one called up to him.

"Not enough actually," he grinned back. "Thank you ladies! Merry Christmas!" And he shut the window. "Let's see, first things first. Buy presents, go visit my nephew, go propose to Barton... better get ready fast." He dove towards his closet.

Wow. That last ghost sure worked a miracle there.

When all else fails a good threat is often the most effective motivation.

He's really going to go do all those things today? Voluntarily?

Quatre, now fully dressed, practically ran out of the room and down the stairs.

Looks like it.

Quatre plunged in and out of stores, buying furiously. He sent deliverymen and serving girls scurrying back to his house with specific orders of what he expected, and promised large bonuses if they managed to pull it off.

"That should do it," he said after an hour or so. "Time to go visit Zechs. I hope they haven't started Twister yet..." He suppressed a shudder.

"Uncle!" Zechs opened the door and nearly fell over. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to drop these off for you and your lovely wife." Quatre handed Mrs. Merquise a small wrapped box and Zechs a large wreath of mistletoe. "Merry Christmas. I'm sure you'll put this to good use."

Zechs leaned back against the wall, stunned. His wife laughed merrily. "Thank you Uncle." She kissed his cheek. "I don't suppose you'll stay for dinner?"

"No thank you my dear. I have other plans. Perhaps another time."

"We look forward to having you Uncle." Lucrezia winked and Quatre laughed.

As the door closed behind him, Zechs looked at his wife. "What the hell did we dose that wreath with again? I think we need to buy stock in it!"

Quatre walked towards the Bartons, heart hammering furiously in his chest. This was not going to be easy.

He stopped outside the door and straightened himself up. Then he hammered on the door. "TROWA BARTON!"

Trowa opened the door, shock and fear on his face. "Mr. Winner?" Quatre gave him an icy look.

"You sir, were not at work this morning as we had discussed."

Trowa blinked. "Uh, we did discuss it sir. We weren't opening the office today. You gave me the day off."

"I gave you the day off?" Quatre frowned. "I never give anyone the day off!"

"I know it doesn't sound like you sir, but really, you did. Honest." Trowa's frightened expression was replaced by a worried one. "It was kind of odd now that I think about it... Are you feeling all right today, Mr. Winner? Is your head aching? Are you dizzy?"

He reached out and brushed his hand over Quatre's forehead. "You are a bit warm. Maybe you should come in and sit down. I'll have one of my sisters make you some tea and I'll go for a doctor."

Good Lord, Quatre thought. Here I am, supposedly come to scold him for not showing up on Christmas and he's worried about me. The ghost was right. I am an idiot.

Quatre caught Trowa's hand in his.

"I've never been better." He smiled. "It occurred to me this morning that I never thanked you for letting me feed the lions that time. I was hoping to repay you by offering to feed you and your family today."

Trowa blinked. Then he turned around and yelled into his house: "Cathy! Go get a doctor! QUICKLY!"

Cathy appeared beside him, knife in hand. "Mr. Winner!" She growled, the knife spinning ominously. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to ask you and your family over for dinner today. It doesn't seem like you've started yours yet."

The knife stopped. "Are you serious?" Cathy's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Your brother and I need to discuss our partnership."

"Partnership?" Trowa repeated. He turned to Cathy. "Punch me. This is a dream."

"No dream." Quatre tugged on the hand he still held firmly. "Come on. I'll show you."

He managed to get the family into their coats and out the door. Trowa carried Tiny Trieze on his shoulder and Quatre herded the girls along quickly.

They arrived at Quatre's home just as the last of the workers was leaving. The formerly cold rooms had been transformed into a riot of color and greenery. The girls went to ooh and ahh over the tree, while Tiny Trieze went to go stand at the window and look over the city.

"Mr. Winner? What is going on?" Trowa was understandably shocked.

"I've been a miserable bastard for long enough. I don't want to be one anymore. I was hoping you and your family could help me like you once did. I want you to leave your home and come live with me here. I have plenty of room."

"You want all of us?" Trowa blinked.

"Well, I want you, especially, but I realize that you come as a package deal." Quatre smiled. "Though I draw the line at sharing the bedroom with them."

Trowa sat down on the floor. "What... what happened? Why now?"

Quatre sat down next to him. "Does it matter? Just say you'll stay here with me."

"I thought you'd never ask."

Aww! That's cute! The hamster pulled out a tissue. We have a happy ending!

"Of course we do rodent. I was not going to fail in my mission." The hamster looked up at the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come who had materialized out of the darkness of storytelling space. "This story has to have a happy ending!"

EEP! The hamster vanished into the hat.

"Quit scaring the narrators, lover." The Ghost of Christmas Present materialized beside him. "The story is over and now we can go home and enjoy our time off."

We're not quite done yet, Plotz smiled faintly. One last look....

And so we look at the family gathered around a table filled with food. Happy sisters, a happy man whose love had finally been realized, and a man whose life had been redeemed.

And at the end of the table, a tiny boy, who lifted his glass and declared:

"You will bow before me, everyone!"

"We are so going to be visiting him in a few years," Present complained.

"No," Future shook his head. "Past will be able to turn that one on his own."

"How?" Present blinked.

"Let me demonstrate...." Future smirked and pulled Present to him.

Uh, okay. Well, we want to keep our PG-13 rating, so we'll just end here. Hope you enjoyed the story everyone!

A small sign pops out of the hat one last time.

Next year we are sticking with Rudolph!