Happy new year everyone! Let's hope this one's a good one:) Here we have another chapter! The story will definitely need a sixth so it's not the end! Another thanks to the kind guest who left another review3 To your question: Collin Miller is supposed to be a character I came up with:) Anyways, here is the new chapter, I hope you like it!

Mistletoe-Mischief And Envy

"So do you remember how you... well, shot yourself?" I asked as I followed Mellenby down the stairs into the basement. So, the little brown spot had really been blood.

"It must have been like that", said Mellenby, breathing quickly over his shoulder. "I saw the picture and just knew it. I knew I had it with me when I was about to…go."

We stopped at the door of the lab. Mellenby stared at the cold stairway in front of him, suddenly as if rooted, then his trembling hand raised the photo and he stared at it for a long time before finally touching the jack.

The tall man twitched as if he had been electrically shocked.

"No, no, no", he muttered softly, staring at the door, then at the picture, and finally at me. I realized pretty lately that it maybe wasn't easy to enter the place where you killed yourself.

"You don't have to go in there, sir", I said reluctantly because I was to fuck curious. "Slow down. What do you remember now?"

"More fragments. Ordered now" Mellenby started running up and down the aisle. "Shame and fear and hope. I got my gun and the photo, but now that I'm standing here, I don't feel anything..."

"We can go upstairs and talk about it. You don't have to force yourself to go in there."

"That's not the problem, Peter" His voice trembled, and he looked completely lost as he buried his face in his hands, panicked and exhumed. "I'm missing something, something important is gone...Oh!"

Mellenby suddenly got up and went back to the stairs and back up again with a wild expression. I called for him, even used his first name, but he couldn't hear me anymore and like the day we met, I could just run after him. This time, however, no Nightingale would keep me company, once you needed nightmares, they left him seemingly alone. But not me. Literally.

Suddenly I knew where Mellenby was going, at least I thought so, until I almost ran into him. He stared motionlessly for a few seconds, then slowly took one step ahead of the other.

"David, stop", I said, trying to force authority into my voice. But he either ignored me or was so caught up in the budding memory that he didn't hear me. It almost felt like glamour to me. I sighed as I followed him, searching in my head for a forma strong enough to take out a fully trained wizard like David Mellenby.

"Stop!" I shouted again when Mellenby reached this room and stand still.

There were two options here: either he was really caught in a memory, or it was a very convincing act that Mellenby played to gain access to the Black Library. In both cases, I would have to somehow take him out of action, but it would be much easier if he wasn't mentally able to use everything that helped him survive in the war against me.

It hissed. I made myself look up and realized there was a reason why Mellenby paused so close to his goal. In front of the locked door blocking the Black Library, Molly stood, chalk white as ever, and bleached her teeth.

I stayed where I was because I'm not stupid enough to stand between Molly and her victim when her thinking was obviously all about his carotid artery. They stared at each other and I'm not quite sure which one of them was more the deer in the spotlight…most likely David.

A storm of emotions crept over his face, then movement flowed through him again, and the man turned around and staggered dangerously. I noticed from the corner of my eye Molly moving in the dimmed light, faster than I could have done, or thought anything to stop her.

And then Mellenby fell to his knees and threw up on the carpet. His hands resting on his chest as if he had a heart attack, his eyes blurred, his breathing too fast and his body shivering visibly – most likely a panic attack.

My eyes wandered to Molly. She looked more like herself. Still bloodthirsty, but more bloodthirsty in the way that was appropriate for someone that stains her carpet and not for the next meal. Inside, I said goodbye to the thought of going to sleep soon.

Molly glared angrily and set the cup of tea distinctly in front of me on the sofa table before she disappeared without even looking at David. I pushed the hot drink over to him with a small sigh. He looked terrible.

We had switched our positions from before and Mellenby was now sitting in the chair, wrapped in a blanket and still trembling, with traces of the previous sweat on his forehead. I really felt sorry for him, now that I knew he wasn't planning to break into the Black Library. He remembered.

"I know exactly now", Mellenby said again quietly, and his voice sounded so broken as if he hadn't spoken for years. "How I felt when I killed myself."

I've been expecting something like this to happen, that Mellenby's traumas would eventually find their way to the surface. It had not happened when he had told me about Ettersberg or before, when I had given him a glimpse into Nightingale's emotional world, but it had come as I had expected. The memory of his suicide.

"I left him alone", he said in a voice so defeated that I immediately felt guilty. "How could I do that? How could anyone do that?"

Earlier he had talked about his feelings at the time, but I knew now that he would not be able to understand them. He thought Nightingale was unaffected because he could only grasp in fragments how bad it was for him back then. But now he knew it, maybe even understood that after years it was better to build a wall around it so that you won't be as broken anymore as you felt.

"You were hurt", I said softly. "You could've needed help. Both of you. Nobody's holding you against anything."

"I just loved him so much, and he was strong, but not strong enough to save both of us. Not again. I thought he was better off without me." He gave me a look full of despair. "If I had known then, I wouldn't have... I wouldn't have..."

"It's okay", I said, desperately trying to think about how to calm traumatized civilians. "You can't change what's happened."

He loves him so much. How could I ever get a fraction of that?

Somehow there was then an unspoken agreement between Mellenby, me and Molly, about not telling Nightingale what happened in this night. So, David got tea, Molly got rid of the stain on the rug, and I spent all night trying to find new variations for the same soothing phrase.

Two days later, on the 23rd of December, a mistletoe was hanging in the atrium, and it was Mellenby and I who noticed it at the same time.

I gazed at this thing and tried to remember that it was a parasite, a plant that sucks the life out of a plant like a bloody vampire and not a chance to finally kiss my boss like I probably would have considered if Mellenby had never shown up here.

He also stared up. You couldn't see what had happened to him the night before last, but the experience was significant enough to make me stop being wary of him, which annoyed me immensely.

There was something soft in the man's gaze and I wouldn't be surprised if he imagined exactly that, which I definitely didn't. At least once must David have had the opportunity to meet Nightingale under a mistletoe branch... What a silly tradition. Who had hung it up anyway?!

As if on a cue, Molly came in and gave me a very small smile, so tiny that I had probably imagined it before she made a terrifying noise and Mellenby must have been so frightened that he was looking for the distance.

"Peter? Is everything okay? You seem quite upset."

I might have stared for a moment at the spot where Molly was standing, thinking about what revenge I could shout at her for the mistletoe-thing with enough threat to cause more than a giggle, that I hadn't noticed Nightingale. He looked a little worried, but all in all relaxed.

We had to tell him so much that we knew for sure that Mellenby had shot himself – the memory had just come like that – and although it was terrible, Nightingale seemed strangely calm. I could hear him there. Before that, there was still a small chance that this was all a very cruel plan, to somehow sneak into the Folly and that Mellenby or the person who somehow stole his signature and his memory would eventually drop his cover and betray us. I don't know if we both could handle another betrayal, and I'm sure Thomas couldn't do it if it came from Mellenby.

That's why he looked kind of relaxed, tired and worried, but calmed down because this was something he could work with. I cast a hopefully unnoticeable glance at the life-eating parasite above us and then back to him. He frowned. Now really worried.

"...Peter?"

"Yeah? I mean yes!" I said hastily when I realized he had asked me something. "Everything's alright! I was just thinking about the actually-came-back-from-death-situation, don't worry!"

Nightingale peeked at me with a very doubtful glance but curled his lips and seemed to want to leave it at that.

"If we're lucky, Mr. Evans will be released from the hospital the day after tomorrow and we can finally review your research."

Mr. Evans, our current suspect in possession of the certain cutlery set, had recently suffered a heart attack (natural cause) and had been in hospital for observation ever since, which is why we could only settle for his behalf. Fortunately, the older man seemed extremely cooperative after we explained the situation yesterday, before we were driven out by a scary nurse who was competing with Molly.

Under normal circumstances, I would have voiced my disapproval at having to work over the holidays, but right now I was too distracted by Nightingale's unaware of the thing above our heads.

"Are you really feeling well?" Nightingale asked, probably confused by my lack of protest, and looked at me so intensely that I could feel myself blushing to all the abundance.

I muttered some answer before leaving him, for fear he would notice.

However, when I tried to leave the scene as fast as I could without running, I could have sworn to hear Molly hiss disapprovingly.

Later I got the Christmas tree with the asbo. Mellenby came with me because, since we were sure he could be trusted, he used every opportunity to get out of the Folly and into modern London. So, while I was trying to drive through the traffic hell without losing my mind, he was happy about every red light and every traffic jam that was forming and switched through at least three dozen radio channels.

However, when the beautiful fir tree was placed in the living room of the Folly, I had to admit that the stress was worth it when I saw Nightingale there very happy in front of an old box with even older Christmas decorations. I knelt down and lifted up one of the Christmas balls, they were made of the finest glass.

"Molly found it in the basement", Nightingale explained as he hung the first ball on a fir twig. "Do you go to your family?"

"Only on the second day of Christmas", I replied, and was about to extend my annual invitation, which Nightingale gratefully refuses with the excuse that he couldn't leave Molly alone... wait. But no, one of them wouldn't survive if we would leave Molly alone with Mellenby.

Nightingale smiled at me.

"That's nice. Christmas will be really lively this year."

It was kind of lovely that my boss was cheerful because this year more than two people would be there to celebrate Christmas.

"If you want the full experience, you can join me on the second holiday", I said out of courtesy and hung up a ball myself.

He laughed about it.

"I didn't have as many cousins as you, Peter, but I had six siblings."

"I'm sure I still know everyone by name", said Mellenby, who must have sneaked in unnoticed. "When did you invite me again, Thomas? When we were fifteen or sixteen?"

"Fifteen", Nightingale said, taking the ball David was about to examine and hang it up.

"There was a huge fight", Mellenby explained, grinning at me. "But Emily forced everyone to the table and somehow everyone got along."

"My mother", Nightingale explained as he noticed my questioning look. "She was really determined if not to say stubborn."

"So, it comes from there", I said.

Nightingale tried to put on a scandalized look, but a small grin flew over his lips for a moment and David laughed loudly.

"Maybe", Nightingale confessed and gave me a smile. "I think she would have liked you, Peter."

Probably not, I thought later. Since I would be most likely the first black guy she ever met. But at that moment, I was too confused as to why Nightingale said that, and I had to think that my boss would introduce me to his parents if he had the chance, just as he had apparently done with Mellenby a hundred years ago. Of course, without introducing him as his boyfriend or something, that was nothing to think about at the time, but maybe they already had feelings for each other back then.

I tried to hide my blushing by decorating the tree and want to say that I succeeded very well. However, this unfounded joy only disappeared when Mellenby turned the conversation back to experiences he had had with Thomas, and I tried not to think too much about dogs that marked their territory.

No, I wasn't jealous. Definitely not.

I went to bed comparatively early today, but at around 11:00 p.m., I suddenly realized that in all the chaos of the recent past, I had completely forgotten to get Nightingale a present and even less knew what was appropriate. So, I went looking for him, to ask him. Yeah, I know how that sounds like. You're right. I just wanted to talk to him.

I had a little Déjà-vu when I suddenly heard muted voices in the hallway. Again, I sneaked up to the sound source, making sure not to make any noise, which was much easier this time, as I wore wool socks instead of shoes. When I finally reached the next corner, I first heard a very familiar hiss and then saw them standing in front of a shelf in the library.

Molly physically pushed David against it – with faces just a few inches apart, a hand in his collar and so on. Mellenby, who somehow, like a normal person, has more respect for an angry Molly since that one night, had a reasonable amount of fear on his face. Molly hissed again.

"I know, Molly…", David said in a brittle voice. "I'm really sorry."

Unlike the conversation, which I had overheard under very similar circumstances, I decided to intervene now.

I was kinda moved that Molly had supposedly chosen me as better for Thomas (or more likely: as the lesser evil she had to quarter if Nightingale gets hurt), but at some point Armor's playing might go too far. I gave her the mistletoe thing as a funny action, but I thought the threat to Mellenby was a little out of line.

Molly was apparently fully aware of this, for she immediately took several steps back when she noticed me. She raised her hands to her mouth in shame, staring at me. David, on the other hand, tapped non-existent dust from his shoulders and wanted to say something, but was silenced by a hissing.

"Molly!" I admonished her and, to everyone's surprise, she stopped bracing her teeth. Fear crept over her face, and she actually twitched before she grabbed her skirt and ran away silently.

"Thank you", said Mellenby.

He still seemed a little out of concept.

"She can be quite resentful", I said.

A second later, I remembered that Molly was resentful because David had killed himself (and is still alive anyway) and immediately regretted what I had said. I really need to talk to her.

"I can't blame her", Mellenby said with a faint smile. "Since I regret my actions as much as her. Perhaps she will soon be more forgiving."

"It's Christmas after all", I muttered, wishing I could say something encouraging, but suddenly his face brightened up.

"Speaking of forgiveness, I think I have you to thank, Peter."

"Sorry?"

His smile got even wider.

"About Thomas. Something you said to him must have calmed him down. I have a feeling he might be able to give me another chance..."

I honestly can't remember much of what followed, he was talking and talking, and I answered something. I couldn't hate David anymore for apparently improving his relationship with my boss.

He must have had as much suffering as the person that I... that I loved and could offer Nightingale a lot more than I could. Because dirty thoughts, stupid grinning, and the way my heart beats faster when he smiles, maybe just wasn't enough. He deserved so much more. But how could I give him the world when we came from different worlds? If I could hardly call him by his name or reveal only a fraction of my feelings to him, when he had been doing that to me for the past two weeks.

How could I be an option at all if David Mellenby could confidently say that he loves Nightingale, and if I on the other hand tried to investigate more closely what I was feeling, I suddenly get scared. And in general: What did I even know about love? How could I do anything but listen to David nodding right now, when he might be able to make Thomas happy?