Disclaimer: Check first chapter for full disclaimer and other warnings.

Warning: Difficult chapter ahead. The story's rating is here for a reason.

Chapter 19 – No Santa This Year

The last day before Christmas holidays, on the evening, Grace, Gabriel, Joan and Michael all piled up in Michael's old car, and went back to the funfair, to open their stall again. Grace and Gabriel were silent, having had a heated discussion at home about his "active participation" in the ride. He wanted to play the monster again, and she didn't, afraid that he might be hurt again. After remarking that she had let him do that during almost the entire summer, he had won the case, but she was a little worried anyway, and was brooding over it. Gabriel was silent too, but it was more because he was thinking about everything that had happened to him since Halloween.

Gabriel reflected about working in the ghost ride again. Thanks to the ring, Gabriel now knew how to get out of a tricky situation, so he wasn't as afraid as one could be. After the Halloween dreams and the subsequent morning's furry problem, he had been in the isolated rooms some more times. He was starting to feel at home there, and had translated most of Ginevra Shaun's diary. He had also started to call her 'Professor' in his mind, because of the fact that she had actually been teaching for a job at one point. And it wasn't an easy course, as he had seen some of the incomprehensible books while stacking them in the shelves, and he remembered the rather poorly-graded stack of assignments he had seen when he had been fetching those books.

He was also starting to mentally refer to the "safe haven" as his hideaway, especially since he translated the part of the diary relative to its internal comfort and organization. For instance, he now knew how to change its appearance and colour theme just by uttering a few chosen words. He had also discovered how to enlarge or reduce the room he was now referring to as the "sport room." At least, he would be able to run laps without being forced to go outside.

There were some difficult parts in the diary, that, even translated in proper English, didn't make any sense to him anyway. Some other parts were intimately linked to the encrypted book about Transportation Devices, thus he had to translate both books at the same time to try to understand more of them. The current result was that he now knew that his ring's way of transporting could be customized. He hadn't finished that part, though, as it was easily the largest, needing the translation of four different chapters.

One other property that he had remarked before, without taking it into consideration, was the Hideaway's properties regarding time. He hadn't thought about his first full day in it, when he had been sure to be missing a day of class, and had woken up on a regular Monday morning. Reading the diary, he discovered that the time spent in the three rooms was equivalent to one fourth of that time outside. For each hour he had spent in the rooms, only fifteen minutes had run outside. That's how he could cope with all the school work, the activities with his friends, and his own research too. If he went to his Hideaway and slept the whole 'night' there, he could spend a day and another night inside, while outside, only the night had passed. It also helped him that Grace was a heavy sleeper, and had never checked on him during his escapades.

Escapades.

He had read more about his ring, and discovered a set of other locations that Ginevra Shaun had obviously judged interesting. On a whim, he had decided to explore them, although he hadn't spent more than a few seconds in each, just looking around to get an idea of the place. These destinations were generally shadowy alcoves, so that the arrival of the person wearing the ring wouldn't be too obvious. So far, he had visited an empty train station platform; a dark alleyway with shoddy shops and an equally trashy pub; the outside of a beautiful house surrounded with woods; and the dusty office again. He hadn't known why, but he had been feeling attracted to it.

When he had arrived there, though, he had been surprised to find it thoroughly dusted, and obviously used by someone. Still a teacher, visibly, judging by the little stack of assignments on the desk, but a bachelor male one, judging by the unclean state of the room and the miscellaneous bottles decorating the top of furniture and the floor. During his observation, he had been suddenly startled to hear someone banging at the door and calling a name, and someone else's waking sounds coming from the couch facing the fire, away from him.

There had been someone in the room! He had been lucky that the couch had been facing the other way, and that the person hadn't been up and about at that moment. He had had just the time to utter the words to get back to his Hideaway before being discovered. Once there, he had sighed, mentally crossing that destination out of the list, and had continued translating the books. He had also started to exercise with the weights, and had found that, even with his small frame, he could lift quite a heavy load. He had also exercised his endurance by running laps with the weight bar on his shoulders.

At one point, he had been holding the heavy bar by one end, and had noticed that something was written right on the end. It hadn't been the 'say weight' thing like on the other end, only 'think arm'. He had reflected about it for some time. Which arm, right or left? Thinking about it a bit more, he had tried something else. Arm could mean weapon, and if the staff could alter its own weight, why couldn't he transform into a weapon?

His heart beating, as if hoping for some miracle to occur, he had spoken. "Sword."

Nothing had happened, and he had sighed, before remembering the beautiful sword he had drawn before, a sword that he could have had pleasure to handle. He had been holding the staff, dreaming about the sword, when he had noticed something strange: the staff had been vibrating against his hands. After a few seconds, its shape had changed and it had taken every physical aspect of the envisioned sword, except that it had been wholly metallic, and the notices written on it had disappeared. In surprise, Gabriel had released his grasp on it, and it had fallen on the floor with a clank. Remembering the wording of these writings, he had almost slapped himself on the forehead. Of course! It was 'think arm,' not 'speak arm'!

He had bent to take it again, and noticed its weight. "Two ounces," he had then said, and the sword had become much more manageable. His mind had been starting to get wild ideas then, and he had imagined a two-inch long screwdriver. The sword had vibrated again, before becoming the desired tool. Now, he had reflected, he could even take it out of the Hideaway if he wanted. He hadn't wanted it to be lost or stolen, though. Afterwards, he had thought about the original bar, and started to lift weights again.

At one point later, he had also read and understood how to add and remove a location on the ring, and he had immediately added the inside of an empty closet in his room at Grace's. He would also add one or two hidden spots inside the ghost ride itself, as soon as he would be able to access it, as well as one in Grace's trailer.

At the funfair...

The first days of re-opening were fun. People started to come back in numbers, and Gabriel's job was bringing them more and more customers. Michael's stand, with the help of a vivacious Joan, was successful as well, even if the customers missed more than they hit the target, distracted as they were by Joan's lithe frame. After all, most clients of a sharp shooting stall were male, and some of the younger and less retrained ones were openly gawking at her. The four of them could often be seen walking together between the trailers and the fair, in the morning and evenings.

Unbeknownst to them, Joan's show wasn't attracting the regular customer's eyes only. A group of troublemakers was back, with a vengeance.

John Jeremiah Jenkins, called and known as 'Johnny' by his few friends, has initially been recruited in his university because of his promises for the local sports team, and not for his wits. Once there, he had naturally found friends indulging, like him, in terrorizing the population. If his grades had been high enough, he wouldn't have been stopped in this, despite the student associations' complaints. However, on their errands, they met a group of purveyors of 'special' goods, and they all hooked up on drugs. The result hadn't been long, and the first medical examination results made sure that he and three of his friends would be expelled, the other two barely escaping the punishment through better-than-average grades and written promises to do better from then on. Johnny should have known not to make a fool of himself, though, because these examinations came fairly often for the athletes.

Since then, the four of them had been aimlessly roaming the streets, sometimes being detained by the cops, sometimes escaping them. Attracted by the noise and activity of the renewed fair, they had regrouped there, and searched for an opportunity in troublemaking. When he saw Joan, then, Johnny immediately wanted her. The others in the group would support him, as he was the leader, and they observed her and her schedule. While doing so, they remarked two things. The first was Gabriel, and his shared closeness to Joan, which infuriated them greatly. Still, they didn't act on impulse like in the summer, because of their new street-oriented wisdom. Attacking in the open would grant them a long stay in the local prison, something they had not grown fond of.

The second thing they remarked was that she went back to the trailers everyday at midday, to prepare sandwiches for her, her dad, Grace and Gabriel. After three days of stalking, they put their plan into action.

"Good day, beauty."

Joan turned around, surprised. Nobody except stall keepers generally went near the trailers, because the passages there were few and well-hidden between stalls. The approaching man seemed to smile at her, but his general demeanour meant something she didn't want to know, and she started to back away, to find her steps blocked by another man, this one short with Asian features. Two other thugs emerged from her left and right. Feeling cornered, she started to yell, before sensing a sharp object pointing at her neck. Each of them had a long, dirty, and wicked-looking knife!

"I won't say no sound if I was you." The message, even incorrectly formulated, was clear to her. The knife intensified its meaning by scraping on her skin, drawing some blood.

His eyes then glowed with unholy glee, and the knife started to move down, first tugging, then tearing the outer layers of clothing she had on. She could only watch, terrified, as her worst nightmares came to life. Her whimpers and pleas for mercy seemed only to intensify the ruffians' happiness. Desperate, she started to buck and almost escaped them, before two of the men jumped on her, and maintained her on the muddy ground. The leader took his skull-decorated black scarf off, and tied it around her mouth, preventing more shouts.

He then finished his job of tearing her clothes, and got quite a shock, as the white freckled skin and immature body showed her age. Her vivacity, which had made her so desirable, was gone as she sobbed pitifully. However, here was an almost-naked girl, and he wasn't to let the opportunity pass. Aroused by his comrades' raunchy comments and by her mounting denial, he quickly prepared himself, and in a swift move, burst the girl's innocence.

Grace was hungry. But, at 11:30, it was somewhat normal when you woke at 5 to work. But, after all the coffee ingested in the morning, she also had an urgent need to go to the bathroom. Calling Gabriel to manage the ticket selling, she left for the nearest loo, which was behind the stalls, on the way to the trailers.

On her way, she spotted a group of men uttering crude comments, and approached them warily. They sounded like nobody she knew, and she knew all the locals. When she noticed what they were doing, and the prone red-head on the ground, she couldn't refrain a yell, before running towards them, intent on stopping them.

However, as she had approached them silently, her yell and run-in surprised them all, and the one who had his back to her turned rapidly. She finished her course close to him, gaping in surprise. When he had turned around, the Asian guy still had his knife in hand, ready to scare the intruder. He hadn't counted on the intruder impaling herself on it, and was as surprised as she was. He could only gape as the old woman slowly slid to the ground, his still-held bloody knife slowly extracting itself from her in the process.

Now, the group of men had always done bad things in the past, even drawn blood and incapacitated people, but none had killed before, and it suddenly frightened them. In panic, not able to think coherently, they ran out as fast as they could.

Gabriel was still selling tickets at the ghost ride, and was starting to feel hungry. It had been some time now, and Grace should have been there already. As it was midday, fewer people were doing the ride, so he decided to close after them, to search for the old lady.

At first, he didn't notice anything out of the usual on his way to the homes. But a whimper made him turn back and explore the remote recesses in the path. He wasn't prepared for the sight that assaulted his vision, and his stomach heaved heavily, trying to expulse the food he didn't have. He quickly went to the prone bodies, quickly discovering that the mud was crimson around Grace. Turning her over, he noticed her rigidity, pallor, and wound. He could only cry to his loss, while turning to Joan.

Joan was curled in a ball, whimpering and shaking badly. He initially thought that she witnessed Grace's murder, but, when she drew away of him in fright, her eyes wide and absent, and her clothes completely torn and in disarray, he started to understand the full extent of what she'd been through. His heart bled in compassion towards his friend, and he could only try to calm her in a sobbing voice. When she suddenly acknowledged his presence, she launched to him, and they both cried. After a few minutes, exhausted, she went to sleep in his arms, and he proceeded to carry her to her home.

Shaking, he removed her outer and uncomfortable clothing and shoes, and gently deposited her on her bed, covering her with her drapes. She looked so innocent then, that he cried again. He didn't want to leave her at all, but something had to be done, and he had to find Michael quickly. For her not to feel alone in case she woke, he wrote a short message on a sheet of paper, saying that he was going back shortly, which he deposited on her nightstand. He then went back to the fair, passing at the same point to look at Grace alone for the last time. That's when he noticed something that had escaped his previous visit.

A black scarf, with white skulls on it.

He blinked once. Twice. He knew that scarf! Of all the people he had met, even from all the ride's clients, only one person had been wearing such a thing. His anger was mounting while he reflected about people who would go so low as to attack defenceless kids and old ladies. When he couldn't hold his fury anymore, he closed his teary eye and, raising his head to the sky and spreading his arms to his sides, let it all flow.

The sound was deafening in his ear. It was as if a thousand lions were roaring in his ears, while a thunderstorm was raging nearby at the same time. Behind his closed eyelid, he even saw flashes of light going on.

The sudden calm around him made him conscious about his surroundings again. The usual noise from the fair was quieted down as everyone was asking where that sound came from. Gabriel felt suddenly very dizzy, and he remarked that his tears didn't feel the same. Unconsciously, he licked them.

Licked them?

How could his tongue reach so far on his cheeks?

He touched his face, and almost passed out at the discovery. He was suddenly afraid that people would come, and searching for a way out, he had only one place in mind.

"Safehaven."

Michael had been worried for a time, but had dismissed Joan's absence. He had thought that, with her feelings towards Gabriel, she would stay at the ghost ride for a while, but that was some time ago, and he was feeling really hungry now. Unknowingly having the same reasoning as Gabriel about the lack of customers, he proceeded to close his stall. That's when he had heard the roar nearby. Everybody in the vicinity had been frightened at the sound, but, not noticing anything else, they all seemed to think that it was one of the fair's random events. Only the stall keepers continued to look wary, as they knew that wasn't true. Michael, having closed his stall, went towards Grace's ride to have a chat with her, Gabriel, and his daughter.

When he noticed the small wooden paned indicating 'Closed', he turned back and headed towards the homes. On his way, though, he jumped in surprise when Gabriel suddenly appeared right in front of him, apparently from thin air.

"Damn," he thought "what is happening to me?"

After having arrived in his hideaway, Gabriel looked around, and his bedroom seemed more... alive... than before. As if it had acquired a depth that he couldn't perceive before. Angrily throwing the scarf in a corner, Gabriel absently reflected about his vision while heading in the bathroom where the mirrors were. When he saw his face, he shouted in surprise.

Only, it wasn't a shout that emerged from his deformed mouth, only an animalistic yelp.

He had the head of a lion.

The moment of surprise went away, and he approached to check his face some more. It wasn't a mask, as the skin was his. It wasn't paint or false hair. In fact, it remained him of his previous 'furry' problem. He closed his eyes to reflect about it, trying to remember how to become normal again, when he noticed something really bizarre. He opened his eyes, and the answer jumped to him.

His EYES.

The lion's face had two working eyes! That's why his rooms had seemed more alive than before!

His perception of the universe was starting to tilt, and he reflected that he should take some time, someday, to explore exactly what he was, and what he could do.

Someday. But not today, he remembered with sorrow. He had to fetch Michael to take care of Joan. That is, if he could get his own face back.

He remembered the meditation exercises, the focus he needed, and he closed his eyes, recalling his own scarred face. Scarred? He felt a tingle on his face, and opened his eye to recognize his scarred face. He would have to explore the scars and eyes later.

He then used his ring to come back, but, not thinking clearly, he didn't go for the inside of the ride, where people wouldn't have remarked him. He just got back from where he came, right in front of Michael's surprised face.

He gasped at the face that had appeared.

"How is this possible?"

In his orange-decorated bedroom, Ron didn't look up from the crystal ball, where Harry's face was floating. The others, who had asked the question, bent towards the ball, taking his head in. The head turned around, and they noticed the left side of his face, with all the scars and the closed eye.

The ball suddenly cleared, and everyone started to ask questions, quickly stopped by Luna. She had her hands on Ron's shoulders, and he was still concentrating on the crystal ball.

"The path back is opened." Ron uttered suddenly. The small room gradually felt some wind, and the sound of wings flapping. Then he sighed, released the ball, and everything fell back to normal. He looked around, taking in the faces of his friends.

He shrugged, saying "I can't go beyond blood protections. I'm tired now."

He made two steps and collapsed on his bed, while Luna put the ball in its box and stored it in his trunk. They then left the orange room.

On their way down, Luna whistled a happy tune, while the others discussed animatedly.

"You noticed? Visual and Audible elements. And Tactile ones too!"

"No wonder he got these marks in Divination."

"It's not like he was here! After all, it could just be his invention, like he did in Divination before."

Hermione Granger had the knack to put people in place recently. Even if she had witnessed the feat like the others, her mind couldn't wrap around it, so she had dismissed it. The only sensible thing she did was not to say it right in Ron's face. After his summer reaction to her, she didn't want to be chased away.

Luna Lovegood and her father had been invited at the Burrow for the whole day, thanks to Ginny. She had noticed that Ron had started to like Luna very much, even if none of them ever showed the usual signs of teenagers in love. After all, they were quite different from the regular students, now. After receiving the answer to her request for information from Luna's dad, she understood them a bit more. At least, more than most. She had had to intervene again, and more than once, to stop some students to overtly mocking them.

She had also pushed her mother to invite Hermione and her parents, now that the older girl was calmer.

The meal had been a success, despite Bill's absence. His last message had said that he was going in a long-term mission, and he didn't answer his mail anymore. It wasn't the first Christmas without him because of these secret missions, though, and the Weasleys had merely written a message to Gringotts in Cairo, Bill's employer, before letting the matter drop for a while.

After dessert, the kids had persuaded Ron to use a crystal ball to remember Harry, but he had only found his scarred face, which had raised many questions from them. Ginny was thoughtful, though. If what Dumbledore had hinted was true, Harry might be alive. But, even with his scars, how comes he wasn't reachable with owls and didn't try to contact them?

Reflecting, she didn't immediately notice that Hermione had stopped with her on her bedroom's threshold, letting the twins and Luna descend the rest of the stairs.

"I have something to ask you."

"Hermione, it's not in your nature to fret. Just ask."

The older girl suddenly seemed unsure of herself.

"Come on, Hermione, show me our Gryffindor bravery, and ask."

Hermione's head shot up and she looked at Ginny inquiringly for a few seconds, before dropping again.

"We'd better go in. I don't want people to overhear this."

Curious now, Ginny opened the door and held it. Once inside, they sat face to face, and Hermione began to recount her project of re-Sorting herself, to Ginny's wide eyes.

"...and, as I have to find one student from each House to vouch for me, I thought about you."

The young teen was gaping at her friend. Her friend, who wanted to leave their House.

"Why?"

"Because, if you haven't noticed, I don't have any affinities with Gryffindor in general, or Gryffindor students. I'm not that brave anyway, and I'm certainly not reckless like most of the Gryffindors are. I enjoy studying, something almost no other Gryffindor likes, and I only feel at home in the Library. I'm a Ravenclaw at heart, and you know that. You are the only Gryffindor that I can call my friend nowadays, especially since..." she shuddered, interrupting her tirade while they both thought about Harry.

"I'll be sad to have you leave us, Hermione. But I can see you're unhappy. I'll do that."

They hugged, in tears, and Hermione answered. "I'm sorry, really. I'll try not to answer too much in class afterwards."

"Beware; with such comments on loyalty, you might be re-Sorted in Hufflepuff!"

They both smiled at the jokes, and after a short moment of cleaning the traces of tears, went down to join the others.

In a small room...

The only two doors opened at the same time, and an old man entered from one side, while a young person, dressed in black, entered from the others. In the middle of the room, a square of bicoloured marble was floating four feet from the floor. On the square, evenly split into 64 cells, a chess game was playing, and it seemed that the pieces were moving even as the persons there didn't touch them.

"I wonder if that was a good idea from the start." the young one started.

"Thou seemed to be quite inclined to the idea." the man retorted, his deep voice resounding in the small room.

"We waited too long for it to start, and I didn't think you'd give them such liberties! Anyway, you seem to be losing, now."

"I am certainly not losing ere; thou are going senile in thine old age, notwithstanding that appearance thou seem to cherish."

"Shut up, old fool! I took two pawns in one move, and you didn't react."

"Shall thou examine the play carefully, thou would observe that a little gambit of mine was successful."

The young one looked at the board intently, before cursing heavily. "You cheated! Damn you!"

"Now, now, now. Thou know that even thyself can't do that, and we are not allowed to cheat."

"Still..."

"Thou would best calm down, and bear in mind what we determined to be at stake, this time."

That seemed to calm the restless one, and both became silent again, observing the board for some time, before leaving the room silently, using the door they went in through.

Back in the park...

"What are you doing?"

"Come." He said, sadness filling his eyes.

Tugging at Michael's sleeve, Gabriel directed him towards the place where Grace's body was still resting against the ground. Michael cried, and kneeled beside her, trying to wake her.

"Grace! Grace!"

"It's too late, Michael."

"How do you know?" He retorted, turning brusquely.

"She's dead."

At the sentence, they both cried near her body. Looking around, Michael finally sensed that someone was missing.

"Joan? What happened to Joan?"

"Michael, I'm sorry..."

The man interrupted him "What do you mean you're sorry? Where is she?"

"She's alive, and... and you'd better sit before I lose my nerves."

Sensing the teen's turmoil of emotions, Michael silently sat on the nearby bench.

"Grace wanted to leave for a while, and left me with the shop. When she didn't come back, I closed it and found her in this state, and Joan was... Oh my god, I can't even say that."

Michael, while impatient to find his daughter, nudged Gabriel gently. The young teen looked the man in the eye, and spoke again, even if haltingly.

"From the way things were... I think Grace interrupted something... something... Joan's clothes... they were torn... and she was... she's..."

"NO!" Michael finally understood what had happened, and he jumped on his feet. "Where is the bastard?"

"I didn't see them, but I'll find them, and I'll make them pay."

Something in the wording of the sentence, and the intent behind it, called to Michael. But he dismissed it, as he wanted to see his daughter now that he knew what had happened.

"Where is she?"

"In her bed. Sleeping."

"Okay. You stay here, and I'll call the police."

Gabriel nodded, and turned back towards the place where the hideous act had unfolded.

"Gabriel?" Michael called softly.

He turned his head.

"Thank you. For everything."

Gabriel turned his head back towards Grace, nodding in the process. He wasn't even sure to be able to speak again without sobbing. Anger could wait, now. While Michael went to check on his daughter and to phone the police, in that order, Gabriel could only wait. While doing so, though, he noticed that the brushes nearby, although always leafless on winter, were burnt as if a flash fire had passed. Curious about that, he looked around, and saw that all the nearby shrubbery was in that state. Even the stones in the pathway were charred. He was just wondering about it when Michael came back with a young police officer.

They spent the afternoon with Joan, in the customary questioning from the local authorities, but she couldn't answer any question, curling into a protective ball whenever the police officers approached the topic. Understanding her reaction, Michael removed her from them, and they went back home.

That night, Gabriel went to bed in the empty household, but couldn't find sleep. Deciding that he could spend some time working out, he went to his hideaway, and spent a few hours training furiously with the heavy staff, before passing out from exhaustion.

When he woke up, he had to spend a few minutes remembering the situation, and how he had ended sleeping in sweat-crusted clothes in the hideaway's sports room, near a staff which seemed heavy like an anvil. When the events of the previous day came back to his memory, he stood up suddenly, and glanced at his watch. It showed 8am, and he had left for the Hideaway around 9pm the previous night, before training for a few hours. He calculated that the time outside was around 1am, and, after changing back into his pyjama, he went back to check on things. Nothing had happened, and he just slumped on his bed, thinking about Grace and how she had welcomed him, without asking questions. He didn't know why, but he felt that she had been the kindest person he had even known. Ever.

The following days were hectic, as he had to cope with Grace's death, Joan's distressed and confused state, and Michael's sad looks. As Joan also had Michael to help her, Gabriel sometimes spent time in the fair, glancing at the now-closed ghost ride and wondering. What would he do now? Should he search for another job? He didn't know if the ride had been Grace's at all. He didn't even know how things went when people died.

Some days afterwards, the officials managing the fair told him that the ride hadn't been Grace's, and that she was managing it for one of them. It was an old ride, they said, and it didn't attract many visitors, despite the slight raise in the previous summer. They wanted to switch it for a more modern one, and proposed him the full-job of managing it. He reflected about it, and, despite the grieving about losing Grace and her stall at the same time, he accepted. However, they would have to dismount it first, and construct the other. The job wouldn't start before the following summer. He also had to move out of Grace's trailer because, like the ride, it was lent by them to fair employees with some years of work behind them. He was feeling as if everything was falling apart. He still had Joan to help, though, and Michael offered him a permanent stay. He could also stay with them after the holidays.

The park officials had contacted Grace's last remaining family, a short-sighted sister and her husband, who Grace had never mentioned, even when Gabriel had asked about her family. Even if Gabriel had been there at that time, they didn't even acknowledge him. They looked at an inventory of sorts, signed it, and delivery men took everything. Thankfully, Gabriel had already moved his few belongings into his Hideaway, even the ones from Grace's suburb house, where he had spent a short time thanks to his ring. He had also transferred some personal things that Grace had used. Her own hand-written cookbook. A painting that they both had liked. The most recent photographs, showing him, her, and others like Joan and Michael. Out of his secluded rooms, he only kept a backpack of clothes and emergency stuff to live with Michael and Joan. If he hadn't kept anything, the man would have noticed and he would have asked uncomfortable questions.

Even Grace's funeral was expedited by the infamous sister, despite the crowd of stall keepers and other fair employees who had known her for years, some of them even all their life. At the end of the ceremony, Gabriel stayed with Joan and Michael at the grave. Joan being unwell, they silently left after both hugging him, and he found himself alone. The rain that soon started to fall, and the approaching evening didn't push him away. And when nearby churches called for Christmas' eve mass, he didn't move, his tears mingling with the rain. There wouldn't be a Christmas feast for him.

To be continued in next chapter: Wild Side...

I'm sorry, had to write this,
To keep the plot not amiss.
My muse has her up and down.
Please review, don't let me down.