SPECIAL NOTE: This is the first installment since WolfenM's passing this past February. Their "Conspiracy of Spirits" was what first got me into this ship, which is now my ultimate OTP. Wolfie was a talented writer, a wonderful person, and a very dear friend, and they are very much missed. Hail the traveler!


Work to Be Done

Ebenezer Scrooge looked around, wide-eyed, as they entered the massive room. Jacob had called it "The Counting-House," but it looked more like a library, only many times larger than any library he had ever seen. St. Paul's and 'Change would have both fit many times beneath the soaring vaulted ceiling, which reached so high that looking up at it was dizzying. He expected if he'd still had a mortal body, he might have passed out merely trying to comprehend the immensity of the space. Uncountable high shelves divided this area into corridors, and tall rolling ladders and a system of winding bronze stairs and walkways allowed workers to access the higher levels.

The shelves were filled with books, which Scrooge immediately recognized as ledgers, each one bound in leather and embossed with a different name on the spine. Some of the names were common enough, and he even thought he spotted one or two names of people he'd known personally, but others seemed strange and unpronounceable to him, and others still were printed in complex, swooping calligraphy that was utterly foreign. Ebenezer, who had an eye for such things, quickly realized that while neatly organized, the ledgers were not alphabetical; he couldn't find any rhyme or reason to the filing system as Jacob led him past the shelves, but at the same time, it was clear there was a precise order.

But to Ebenezer, the most interesting part of all was the workers. After living in London, where so many kinds of people lived shoulder-to-shoulder — rich and poor, young and old, healthy bodies and those twisted by nature or accident — he'd thought he was familiar with the variety of mankind, but now he saw how limited that view had been. They passed a woman whose entire form was covered by a long veil, only her dark eyes visible, chatting animatedly with a young woman whose dress would have been in fashion perhaps five hundred years ago. A man in a costume he associated with the ancient Orient stood beside a dark-haired woman on a ladder as she handed books down to him. Ebenezer saw a silver six-pointed star glinting on a chain around the woman's neck. A little boy, surely no older than seven, ran barefoot past him carrying a stack of ledgers. The boy reminded Eb of Tim, back when he'd first met him, though this child had the brown skin and fantastic garb of far India.

As they walked along, many they passed greeted Jacob with familiarity and obvious pleasure. A young man called out cheerfully from several rows over, and Jacob returned his greeting with a wave and a grin. Several times, they stopped for Jacob to converse: he asked how so-and-so was getting on with such-and-such, laughed at some shared joke, offered advice or a sympathetic ear. It reminded Scrooge of his walks to and from the countinghouse. Once, he had hurried along, warding off any attempt at conversation with a growl; but in the final stretch of his mortal life, he had stopped every few steps to enquire after someone's health, drop a few coins in a blindman's tin, pet a dog or cat, or have a snowball fight with some neighborhood children. He had found his life infinitely enriched by these small interactions, and was gladdened to see that on the other side of the veil, Jacob had also discovered this joy.

At the very heart of the hustle and bustle sat an old man, shaped rather like an overstuffed armchair, with a face like a bulldog. A flurry of papers was spread haphazardly over his desk, and he hunched over to read them so that his nose nearly touched the worn wooden surface. Every so often, someone would approach him and he'd listen thoughtfully, sometimes nodding, other times furrowing his brow and frowning, occasionally scribbling a signature on this form or that. He had an ink stain on one cheek, and his hair was untidy and frazzled, but when he looked up to greet them, the eyes behind his spectacles were bright and sharp.

"Jacob!" he boomed in a voice that reminded Scrooge of Fezziwig, his genial old employer back in his 'prentice days. Jacob offered his hand, and the old man shook it warmly. "Returned from your holiday, I see! Well, we're very glad to have you back; always so much to do, as you well know, and your talent was much missed!" Those sharp eyes turned to Scrooge, and he had the peculiar sensation that the bulldoggish old man was looking through him, taking in his whole history in a glance. It made him feel naked and vulnerable, the way he had felt that long-ago night with the Spirits. Then the old man smiled, seeming to approve, and turned his gaze back to Jacob. "Have you brought us a new recruit?"

"I hope so," Jacob said, with a wide grin. "This is Ebenezer Scrooge." Scrooge stepped forward, politely but nervously.

"Mr Scrooge! I've heard so much about you, and I'm delighted to finally make your acquaintance! I am — well, you may call me the Record Keeper. Has Jacob told you a little about what we do here?"

Ebenezer nodded, feeling unsure. He hadn't interviewed for a position for a very long time indeed, and whatever else this was, it was a job of sorts, that much seemed clear. "Yes. As I understand from Jacob — Mr Marley — you are in the business of, well, keeping records of mortal lives; balancing the cosmic books, in a manner of speaking."

The little old man gave him another piercing glance, and Eb thought his eyes seemed cooler now. This made him even more anxious. "Yes," the little man said, "but that's not all there is to it, as I'm sure Jacob has explained —"

"Yes, he did," Eb hurried to agree, worried now that perhaps whatever misstep he seemed to have made could have consequences for his husband. "He was very clear on that. You also, well… you help people settle their debts. As you did for me." This last was very quiet.

"Yes." The old man nodded. "Though mortals aren't often as… aware of our agents as you were. Most times, we simply influence, planting small suggestions, pointing the right direction. They don't even know we're there. There are many different departments, but this specific department is, not to put too fine a point on it, for people like you two were."

"Hardheaded fools hellbent on digging their own graves, in other words," Jacob put in, amused. Ebenezer shot him a slightly annoyed glance, feeling he was taking this whole thing too lightly.

"So… redemption," Scrooge said thoughtfully.

"In essence, my dear sir," said the Record Keeper. "Now, I suppose I'll turn the floor over to you." He sat back expectantly, waiting for Scrooge to say something.

This took Ebenezer rather by surprise. He cleared his throat nervously. He knew he couldn't actually be thirsty — the dead don't need to eat or drink — but his mouth felt dry somehow anyway. "Well, er…" He was already off to a bad start. He gathered his thoughts and tried again. "I think I would be useful to your organization because I understand how the people you work with think. I understand the logic, flawed though it is. I also have experience working in a mortal establishment which bears some similarities to your business structure, and. Well. I mean…" His words trailed off. The Record Keeper was looking at him with a politely blank stare, not cold, but certainly not warm either. He seemed ready to get back to his papers. Ebenezer didn't know what he'd done wrong, but he was suddenly quite sure that the interview was over. He moistened his lips. "Well, thank you for your consideration —" he began, but Jacob stopped him.

"Would you please give us a moment?" Jacob asked the Record Keeper, and the old man nodded and returned to the forms on his desk. Jacob drew Eb aside. "Ebenezer… I understand what you're thinking, but this… it isn't like any form of employment you would be familiar with."

"So what should I say? What does he want me to say?"

"I can't tell you that," Jacob said mildly. "But if I could make a suggestion, I'd try telling him what you told me about being useful. He knows your background, the best and the worst of it; he knows your talents and how they could prove useful. Your motives are what's important here."

"Wouldn't he know my motives already, too?"

Jacob smiled. "Yes, probably. But what I think matters is that you tell him, and how you tell him."

Ebenezer took a deep breath — he no longer needed to breathe any more than he needed food or drink, but it helped steady him — and once again approached the desk. Jacob hung back slightly, but Eb felt his husband's gaze on him, and that gave him courage. "Excuse me, sir?" The Record Keeper looked up, his face still blank and noncommittal. Eb closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then opened them and spoke slowly. His voice was unsure and lacked the formality he'd used earlier. "I want, desperately actually, to help. Much of my life, I would have said that there was nothing I could truly do for anyone else, even if I'd wanted to. That I could toss coins to beggars and feed the poor all day long, but there would still be a hundred more needy ready to take their place. But Jacob helped me realize that there is so much that I — that anyone — can do to make the mortal world better." He paused. "Maybe our world too, actually. There's so much I don't know, but I would like to learn, if you would have me." He gave a small, uncomfortable chuckle. "I'm afraid I'm not very good with words — that was always more Jacob's talent — but please believe me when I say, I want this more than I can express."

The Record Keeper was looking at him with increased interest and attention now. "Why?"

"Why?" Eb echoed, honestly confused.

"Yes, why do you want it so much? Are you hoping to earn your own redemption by helping others to theirs? Balance the scales more in your favour? Because as you already know, the chains were only part of it."

With dawning comprehension, Ebenezer said thoughtfully, "The evils I did, I can never undo. Doing good works won't change that, not for those I hurt." The Record Keeper listened, seemingly waiting for more. Ebenezer searched for the words and found them: "Simply put, I want to help because it feels good to help."

The Record Keeper's crinkled face burst into a wide smile. "Ebenezer! There you are!" Eb found his hand engulphed by both the old man's own and pumped enthusiastically. "You had me worried for a moment, my dear sir, but you found your answer."

Scrooge, shocked at this sudden turn of events, gaped. He could barely believe it. "Are you saying…?"

"The position is yours, dear boy! Jacob, you'll show him the ropes, I trust?"

Before Jacob could answer, Ebenezer had all but tackled him in an embrace. After a moment, he released him, looking sheepish. "I'm… I'm sorry," he told the Record Keeper. "It won't be repeated —" and then Jacob's lips were on his own, kissing him deeply. "Jacob!" he said breathlessly, scandalized, when his mouth was free again, but he saw the Record Keeper was beaming.

"My dear Ebenezer, your Jacob knows our business is, at bottom, the business of love. Expressions of it will never be inappropriate or out of place here… up to a point, Mr Marley!" he added with feigned sternness in response to Jacob's slightly wicked smile. Jacob laughed heartily. Ebenezer looked between them for a moment, uncomprehending, and then a hot flush spread over his cheeks. Jacob saw it and kissed him again, more gently this time, caressing his face briefly, tenderly.

"All right, all right, back to work!" The Record Keeper clapped his hands briskly. "That means everyone!" he added, and Scrooge noticed that they had attracted a small and amiable audience. As the Record Keeper turned back to his piles of papers, Eb's hand was shaken over and over as he was introduced to his new coworkers. There was, as Jacob had told him, as the Record Keeper had echoed, and as he himself knew, so much work to be done, and he was eager to begin, with his partner and these new friends at his side.


AUTHOR'S NOTES: This installment took most of its inspiration from Jacob Marley's Christmas Carol, especially with the inclusion of the Record Keeper.

I had a lot of trouble balancing the Victorian language with modern understanding of disability and cultural/religious differences. I wanted to use wording that fit with the Dickensian storytelling, without carrying into it Dickens' period-typical prejudices (which he most definitely had) or using words that had different connotations in the 19th century. If you belong to any of the groups mentioned and find my wording offensive, please let me know so I can try to fix it!

Also, I understand there are potential underlying issues with inserting Muslim and Jewish characters into a Christmas-themed story, especially as background characters. I want to be clear that the message isn't that Christianity is all-encompassing of other belief systems, but instead that all the belief systems of the world are equal parts of a greater whole. I hope I managed to convey that.

A quick shout-out to the new movie Spirited for pushing me into writing this! Funnily enough, I had only seen the first 20 minutes when I wrote this, and was amazed to see how much of it lined up with the film's messages when I finished the movie. It's almost uncanny.