I own nothing but my own words.
Title: My December
This is my December. This is my time of the year.
This is my December. This is my snow covered home.
This is my December. This is me alone…
And I'd give it all away just to have somewhere to go to.
Give it all away, to have someone to come home to.
- "My December" by Linkin Park
"I can't find her!"
"Try again!" Alaric insisted.
"I have, sir!" MG said while gripping the sides of Josie's head. "I keep trying! But she's not there. Hope isn't there. She's just gone!"
He dropped his hands and stepped back in defeat.
"She has to be somewhere," Josie turned to look at him. "She's definitely not in her body. The only place she can be is in my mind. Look again!"
MG shook his head. "There is nowhere else in your mind for me to search. We've been trying for days. She's not there."
Lizzie held up her pointer finger. "No. No. She did not just go through literal hell to get back to us only for us to lose her all over again."
"What do you want me to do, Lizzie?" MG asked, sad and frustrated. "I want her back as much as you do, but I don't know where she is."
"Maybe she knows…" Josie said softly. "Maybe she knows about Landon."
They all looked over to the small bed where Hope lay.
"Maybe she just doesn't want to be found…"
She was free falling.
She wasn't necessarily scared of heights but plummeting into a dark abyss with no end in sight was pretty frightening.
In the midst of her downward flight, she attempted to use her magic to create a light orb.
When that didn't work, she closed her eyes and waited for the endless descent to end. It couldn't go on forever, could it?
Apparently not, she thought as she abruptly landed in a set of familiar arms.
"We've got to stop meeting like this."
She opened her eyes and looked up in shock, "Clarke!?"
"In the, uh…" he glanced around, "not-so-flesh?"
"I thought you were dead!" she exclaimed.
She was confused but also relieved. She never told anyone but she had mourned him. After that phone call, their conversation haunted her for weeks. If only he talked to her like that the day before instead of attacking her, things could have gone differently. She could have done something to save him. But, when there was only ten minutes left, it just wasn't possible.
"Well…kind of?" he said, raising an eyebrow.
"Wait…" she realized she was still lying in his arms. She shook her head at herself and moved to get down. He released her instantly, just like last time.
"Am I dead?" she asked with dread. "Are we really in hell this time?"
"Still pretty sure hell doesn't exist," he said. "And no, you're not dead. Not yet anyway."
"Then what's happening? Where are we?" she frowned. "And what do you mean by 'not yet'?!"
"Follow me," he led her out of the darkness and opened a door that was, quite literally, outside.
She looked around. She was standing on the lawn of the Salvatore school. It was day time but there was a strange ominous quality to the sky, like a storm on the way
Turning back, she realized they had been in the school. It was so dark inside she couldn't make anything out.
"Near as I can tell," he said, "we're nowhere."
"Like the pit?" she asked.
"No, we can still see the world," he said. "Just can't interact with it. I see people from time to time. Some of them see me if they're looking, but they're mostly all just passing through. Not me though. I don't go anywhere. Just here. It's like I'm stuck."
"In limbo," she whispered, eyes widening.
"Limbo?"
"A place between the living and the dead," she said. "You pass through it before reaching your final resting place."
"But that means… you died?"
"No," she shook her head. "I don't think so. It's not possible. I was only using my mind, not my body. That's still there and very much alive."
"You separated your consciousness from your body?" he asked. "Taking a page from my playbook this time, huh? Things must be getting super interesting on earth."
"The sand clock broke," she said. "I had to save Josie and protect Lizzie."
"Ever the selfless hero," he said.
"Maybe it didn't work…" she said, thinking back. "Dark Josie did this to me in Josie's subconscious. I don't know what happened after that. Was Josie able to defeat her darker self? And if she didn't…maybe that's why I'm here."
"Well, if you suddenly see a bright light, give some warning," he said. "I'll be sure to give a proper goodbye."
"Uh…thanks?"
"You're welcome," he said, smirking.
"So…I guess I'm stuck here for now too," she said. "Does limbo play any good movies?"
"Good luck with that," he said. "I'm not in Malivore, but I might as well be. I can't interact with the world, at all. At least it's not pitch black all the time. Though, it's still…"
"Lonely," she supplied softly.
He shrugged," You know how it is."
"Yeah," she said. "I do."
"What about time?" she asked. "How long do you think you've been here?"
"Maybe a week?" he guessed.
"Clarke…you've been here over two months," she said. "It's December."
"Guess limbo has more in common with Malivore than I realized," he said.
"So, you've been stuck here for a week and are still at the Salvatore school?" she said. "Why?"
"Why not?" he shrugged and looked away.
"I would think it's the last place you want to be," she said.
"It's a school for supernaturals," he said. "I may be stuck, but you gotta admit, it's the perfect place to be, you know, just in case."
"In case someone, like oh say, a witch, accidentally dragged you back to life?" she said knowingly.
"Well, yeah," he said. "Not like I can do anything to make it happen. But, you never know when an inexperienced arrogant student might bite off more than they can chew."
"Duly noted," she said, nodding and looking around. "So you haven't explored at all? Tried to find someone like us?"
"Of course I have," he said. "But I always come back here."
"Ryan Clarke," she teased, "you're not actually referring to the Salvatore school as home, are you?"
"Hope Mikaelson," he teased, ignoring her question, "you mean to say you remember my first name but still call me by my last?"
"Clarke is your super secret agent name," she said. "Though, now that I think about it, calling you Agent Clarke basically shows you respect. Maybe I should call you Ryan instead. But that'll take some getting used to, Clarke."
He smirked, "Whatever you want, Mikaelson."
"So," she turned back to the school. "You've been stuck, unable to do anything… but you don't have any powers. Maybe it'll be different for me. We should go back in and find out."
He swept his arm out, "Be my guest."
As she walked back to the door they just came out of, she said, "I just don't know how we're going to find anything in the dark. Why are all the lights out anyway? And if you were standing in the dark, how did you manage to catch me?"
"Uh—"
Opening the door, she was blinded by lights.
It definitely wasn't dark anymore.
Strand after strand of multi-color lights hung from trees and banisters. It looked like a Christmas store had thrown up on the first floor.
It looked exactly like it did the day Clarke died.
"Huh," she said, stopping to look around. "Where'd all this come from?"
"It's been here since I got here. It was here when you dropped in," he said. "I saw you coming."
"Weird," she said. "Why didn't I see anything?"
"Like I would know?" he said, amused.
He walked down the steps into the main lounge. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he held up a finger to tell her to wait, and right as the big hand moved, Christmas music began playing.
As a soft sultry voice started belting out the lyrics to "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree," Clarke nodded his head to the melody and pointed again.
Right on cue, a toy electric train rounded the bend on the table and chugged along, blowing its horn three times as it went.
Hope only glanced at the train before she watched Clarke again.
She had to smile at the look on his face. It was a look she had seen many times before on the faces of little kids witnessing the magic of Christmas for the first time.
"I've never even had a Christmas."
He went out into the stark ominous world in limbo every day, and at the end of every day he came back to the Salvatore school. He claimed he was just hoping for a way out, but Hope could see through his words.
When she teased him earlier that the school was his home, he never did answer her but it was obviously true.
This place, with all the trappings of the season, the place where she reluctantly agreed to grant him his wish of having his first "real" Christmas, was his home.
"I'm not a villain. I'm just a kid who's afraid of my father."
He really was just a kid—a big kid at that.
"Really enjoying that, aren't you?" she asked.
"You said it was December now, right?" he said, glancing at her. "Wonder how many days need to pass here before it actually is Christmas."
"Not even I can do that math," she said.
"Either way," he drew himself up. "This is my December, for however long I'm stuck here. It can be Christmas every day if I want it to be."
"At least you're not stuck here alone for it," she said.
"Yeah," he smirked softly. "For now, anyway."
"Let's go to the library," she suggested, pushing his words away. She didn't know why she was stuck in limbo with him, but if she really had died, then she could move on any day without any warning.
She would see her parents again, she knew that. But even knowing that…
She didn't want to die. She didn't want to move on. Not yet.
But she also didn't want to be stuck in limbo forever either.
Hopefully she had better luck than Clarke.
She didn't.
While she could touch things and nudge them, she had no control over it. She couldn't do any spells. She couldn't even turn the pages of a book. She could touch the books, and she made a few of them move, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't get the book to open.
"Come on!" she exclaimed at a book while Clarke looked on in amusement. "I'm not some poltergeist haunting people! I'm in bloody limbo and I just want to get out!"
"Maybe you need a break," Clarke suggested.
"I need a place with more power," she said.
"What has more power than the school?" he asked.
"There are plenty of powerful places in Mystic Falls," she said. "Don't you know your history? This ground is soaked in the blood of supernaturals. If it exists in limbo too, maybe I can channel the power and get us out of here."
"Us?" he said.
"Yeah," she sighed. "If you're stuck in limbo, then maybe you're supposed to be somewhere else. Like me. I'll do what I can to get us both out of here."
"Thank you," he said with truly grateful eyes.
"You're welcome," she said swiftly. "Now let's go hunting."
They left, walking together side-by-side.
"I can't believe you haven't found any one else stuck in limbo too," she said. "It makes it even more suspect that it's just the two of us."
"I never said I hadn't found anyone else stuck here," he said. "I just said I always come back here when I'm done searching."
"So wait," she stopped suddenly. "There are other people trapped in limbo? And you've seen them?"
"Yeah, but they don't talk," he said. "Not the ones I've found anyway. I'm not sure they even see me when I'm right in front of them."
"Maybe knowing about them can help us," she said.
"I don't see how," he replied. "They're usually at or around the hospital."
"What department?" she asked.
"I've seen a couple on random floors, a couple near ICU," he said. "They eventually pass on which is why I figure you won't be here that long."
"And you never once thought they were coma patients?" she asked incredulously, realizing immediately what was happening.
"Thought it? Yeah," he said. "Know for sure? No, but does it really matter? They can leave. I'm still here. Stuck."
"It makes sense though," she said, thinking. "My mind is here, but my body is still alive. Just like a coma patient's body is being kept alive, but if their mind is already here then maybe it's too late. Maybe they're just waiting for their body to die too so they can move on."
"So since your body is alive on earth—"
"I can't pass over until it dies too… so I really did kind of die…" she said softly, sadly.
"Then what's my excuse?" he said. "My real body is dust now, and the one I stupidly jumped into has long since disintegrated. Shouldn't I have passed on?"
"Right," she said. "So maybe I'm completely wrong. Guess going to the hospital is pointless. No use asking a coma patient how to get back into our bodies. If they knew, they'd do it themselves."
"So, the power place hunt is back on," he said.
"Yeah," she said. "But somehow it just feels as doomed as my relationship with Landon." She laughed at herself and how ridiculous everything had become over the past few months.
"Aw, and here I thought the lovebirds would've made up by now," he said flippantly. "Wait a minute, don't tell me he picked the other one. Ha!"
"No," she stared hard at him. "He picked me. But then Emma stuck some of us in a stupid game created by the real Professor Vardemus—who is actually alive now, no thanks to you—"
He nearly snorted with laughter, remembering how easy it was to trick the other man and steal his identity.
"And the only way I could remember who I was and free my mind from the game was to choose someone else over Landon," she said. "And I don't know why I'm telling you all this anyway."
"No surprise there," he said. "You're stuck in limbo and your mind is on him."
"Honestly, it wasn't," she laughed at herself. "For once in months, he was the last thing on my mind. Of course, he's on earth living and I'm… feeling doomed to be stuck here for all of eternity if my body doesn't die."
"At least the company isn't too bad," he smirked.
"I bet you're just glad I'm here, aren't you?" she said with fake malice.
"Actually, I am," he said. "Sure beats talking to myself."
"Hopefully, I can do a spell to get us out of here and then you can talk to whoever you want," she said. "I'm sure given the choice I'd be the last person you want to talk to."
"You'd be surprised…" he said softly.
A bright light suddenly shone across the street and the wind picked up.
Hope winced and covered her eyes, hair flying wild. "What is that?"
"What is what?" he said, frowning and looking around.
"That light," she pointed. The wind howled, growing louder and louder as it swept in. "It's really bright."
"Wait, no," he cursed. "If you cross over before you do the spell, I'm just going to be stuck here and you'll be at peace."
"But…I don't want to die," she said, stepping back from the light.
"Then let's keep going!" he insisted.
"I…I can't," she couldn't make her feet move away from the direction of the light. She quickly reached out and grabbed hold of him. "I don't want to die!"
He held on and tried to pull her with him, "Come on!" No matter how hard he tugged, she wasn't moving. And the light was getting closer.
"Clarke!" she yelled, reaching out with her other hand. "Don't let me die!"
"I'm trying, Mikaelson!" he said. He grabbed both of her arms and yanked her against him, wrapping his arms around her as tightly as possible.
"Try harder!" she screamed in his ear, closing her eyes against the bright light that was right in front of her.
"Do you really think I want you to go!?" he yelled back. "If you go, I'm all alone. Again. Don't leave me alone!"
"It's not like I want to!" she yelped. "But it doesn't look like I have a choice!"
"Then take me with you!" he said.
She breathed into his shoulder. The light was almost touching her. She felt like the second it did, that would be it. There would be no going back. No more life left to live. She would just be gone. And with her went any chance for him to live again or find peace too.
"Keep holding me!" she said, clenching her arms around him tighter. "Maybe when it takes me, it'll take you too!"
And so he did. He closed his eyes and held her tighter than he had every held anyone in his life, hoping against hope that she was right. That the light would take him too. That he could finally pass on. That he could finally find some kind of peace.
She was wrong.
Completely disoriented, Hope became aware of new surroundings.
And nothing in her arms.
No.
"No!" she screamed, beginning to flail. "No! No! I gotta go back! I have to go back! I can't leave him! He's all alone! He needs me!"
"Hope!"
"No! No!" she flailed even more as she felt hands trying to subdue her. "Let me go back!"
"Hope! It's me! Open your eyes and look!"
Arms clenched around her tightly, arms that were completely different from the ones that were holding her before. But the voice, the voice was familiar. And it wanted her to open her eyes.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked around.
Doctor Saltzman—the voice she heard, Lizzie, Josie, and MG.
They surrounded her.
MG's arms were the ones wrapped around her.
"But you're…" she looked at them all again, just to make sure she wasn't seeing things. "Alive… Last time I checked, you were all alive."
"Last time I checked too," Lizzie said.
"So that means I…"
"You are too," Josie gasped out. "What she means is you're alive! We did it! We actually did it! You're alive!"
Hope sank back into her pillow, shock flooding her.
There was so much she needed to catch up on. She had a feeling there were a lot of things she missed.
She was alive!
For the first time in a very long time, she was actually glad to be alive.
But someone else wasn't alive…and she didn't have the first clue how to get him back.
Make that two someone else's who weren't alive.
Clarke—correction, Ryan. She was trying to rewrite her brain to call him Ryan. Not to take away any respect given to him as an agent, but because she got the feeling he actually did want her to call him by his first name, not his last.
So, Ryan and Landon.
The doom infiltrated her soul when her friends explained what happened in her absence.
In the privacy of her room, when her roommate had gone out and she was trying to recover, she cried. She mourned for both of them.
Doctor Saltzman made the deal with The Necromancer, so it was up to him to work it out. Hope could've rushed in headfirst and tried to fix it, but she felt like something inside her shut down when she found out Landon was dead.
The only sign of life she showed those first few days was to seek out Lizzie. The twins had found and executed the spell that managed to pull Hope's consciousness out of limbo and back into her body.
Hope sought Lizzie to ask for the spell.
"Sure, but what do you need it for?" Lizzie asked.
"He's stuck there," she mumbled to herself, looking over the spell. "He's stuck there and I need to get him out."
"Who's stuck where?" Lizzie asked.
"Wherever you pulled me back from," Hope said, pausing in her reading. "Ryan's stuck there too. I need to bring him back."
"While I don't know who that is," Lizzie stated, "I do know the spell only worked because we had your body. Before you do the spell, you need his body. You need somewhere to put him."
"It doesn't exist anymore!" Hope snapped. She grabbed at her hair in frustration. "His body is gone, but he can't stay there! He can't!"
For the first time in her life, Lizzie didn't say a word.
Hope didn't know what to do anymore. She didn't know how to save Landon, and she didn't know how to save Clar—Ryan.
Landon was the one resting on a simple twin bed now. The twins cast a spell over him to preserve his body until he rose again. If he ever rose again. People at the school were working around the clock to help him. Others were trying to track down The Necromancer.
Ryan was the one stuck in limbo by himself now. No one else cared. No one else would ever lift a finger to help him. So it was all up to her.
So, yes, she was once again choosing someone else over Landon.
Except she didn't know how to help him.
She didn't know how to find him a new body.
That week ended, a new one began, and, with it, Hope was forced to return to classes.
She trudged through, her mind a complete mess. She barely paid attention, too occupied trying to come up with a solution over and over again.
Christmas was at the end of the following week.
She folded her arms on her desk and laid her head down.
December. His December, he called it.
Where every day was Christmas.
If only she could figure everything out before Christmas, then she could truly bring him home so he could enjoy the real thing.
His first real Christmas.
Someone plopped a container on her desk and she raised her head enough to look at it.
A lump of clay.
Glancing around the room, she realized she was in her art class. She used to look forward to this class more than any of her others—even her magic courses.
Now, she didn't feel much of anything as she picked up the clay, noting that the rest of the class had begun. Molding a cup, plate, frame, or anything else they wanted to.
She wasn't sure what she wanted to make. She didn't have much inspiration anymore. So she just clasped it between her hands and started rubbing it.
Lost in her thoughts, she barely paid attention to the clay or what she was forming until her teacher walked by and said, "Good job, Hope."
Pulling her hands away from the clay, she looked down in odd fascination.
She molded the clay into the tiny figure of a man.
Like a mud man.
Each day went on like that.
Every day she had art, every day a lump of clay was dropped onto her desk, and every day her hands formed the only thing they could form. The only thing they wanted to form.
"Again, Hope?" her teacher said on the fifth day. "Let's try something different next week, okay?"
Hope didn't bother responding.
The days bled together. The twins tried to coax her out of her shell. She closed off completely from everyone again. Caring about people hurt too much when she lost them. She learned that lesson early on but still needed a few more courses apparently.
Today was Christmas Eve, and no matter how much she wanted to hide away in her room, she couldn't.
School rules made it mandatory for any student who didn't go home for the holiday to participate. Of course, if she didn't celebrate she could've stayed in her room. Unfortunately, Doctor Saltzman knew her quite well. He knew she did celebrate.
She just didn't want to this year.
How could she celebrate when Ryan couldn't?
She could've gone home to New Orleans, but she didn't feel up to it. She would Face Time her aunts and uncle some time on Christmas day, and they would all get together eventually, but this year she just really wanted to be alone.
"Here you go, Hope," Dorian said, holding out a strip of paper in one hand and a pen in the other.
"Now, tell me exactly what you wished for."
She took the items offered because she didn't have any other choice.
"A savior."
She looked between the paper and pen.
Last time he wished for someone to save him not knowing the Krampus was sent after him—that his father wanted to kill him.
He got his savior.
She saved him from the Krampus.
She didn't save him from dying though.
But maybe… she could save him now.
Dear Santa… Bring him home. Always and Forever, Hope.
She stared into the flames, wondering if the magic was still there. Did she have enough strength left in her to hope for the impossible?
Grasping deep inside for the last vestige of faith within her soul, she used it to toss the paper—her wish—into the fire.
She stood and watched as the paper turned to embers, then to ash.
Then she went to bed.
Santa couldn't reply before morning anyway.
"This one's for Lizzie!" one of the children called out before running to the blonde.
Hope sat quietly, as far away from everyone else as she could get away with.
She watched as box after box was pulled from under the tree, a name being called out, and saw the excitement as each child or teenager opened their gift.
The pile dwindled, getting smaller and smaller, and there hadn't yet been one for Hope Mikaelson.
"Hope!"
She nearly jumped out of her seat. Standing quickly, she started walking toward Lizzie only to have her toss the small box at her.
Catching it, she barely acknowledged the twin. She turned around and left the room.
The box was definitely too small to fit a grown man, that was for sure.
But maybe there was some other clue. Maybe Santa was giving her instructions, or a spell, or something to help her.
She scrambled to pull the paper off and open the box. Or maybe—
To: Hope, From: Lizzie
Earrings from Lizzie. They were beautiful. Her birthstone.
She would thank her. She would feel guilty for being such a horrible friend these past few weeks. She would say all the right things so Lizzie knew she appreciated everything.
Her shoulders slumped.
But it wasn't what she wanted.
Walking slowly back into the main room where the giant tree stood in all its glory, the dwindling pile of presents all but gone, Hope stood uncertainly.
Santa visiting before had restored her faith in him and the holiday. But now…
"Oh, looks like this one's for Hope too," Lizzie said, picking up a medium size boxed wrapped perfectly in gleaming red paper.
"Really?" Hope mumbled, not taking her eyes from the box as she walked forward.
"Yep," Lizzie said. "H-O-P-E. Spells Hope, so…"
"Thank you," Hope murmured, taking the box into her arms, grasping it tightly to her. "And thank you for the earrings."
"You're welcome," Lizzie said.
"Merry Christmas, Lizzie."
"Merry Christmas, Hope…" Lizzie watched her as she walked away. Hope could feel her curious eyes on her, but she didn't bother looking back.
This was it. It had to be.
Please.
She sat the box on a quiet table in the library and slowly unwrapped it.
To: Hope, From: Santa
Gasping as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her, she pulled the lid off the box.
Nestled in folds of white tissue paper, she found it.
His trident.
Gleaming with a familiar purple energy.
Careful not to cut herself, she reached in and pulled out the thick card with simple instructions written on it.
Dear Hope, Make the next one more to scale. And, never forget, anything is possible if you believe in it enough.
Next one more to scale…what.
Her eyes widened. She grabbed the lid and slammed it back on.
"Lizzie!" she called out, picking up the box, and sprinting back to the tree room. "Lizzie! Lizzie!"
She ran from room to room until, "Lizzie!"
"Okay, okay, I hear you," Lizzie said, "Where's the fire!?"
"I need your help! Follow me!"
"With what? Where are we going?!" Lizzie asked though did as her friend commanded and followed.
"We're going to get Ryan back!"
"Yes, Ryan, the one without a body?" Lizzie said.
"That's okay though," Hope said, walking into a classroom.
"You need my help… in the art room?" Lizzie asked, mystified. She shook her head. "What do you mean, 'its okay though'? In order to get him back, you need his body."
"We're going to build one!"
Hope turned around and moved a large tray filled with a mound of clay to one of the tables.
"We just need some more of this first."
"You have got to be kidding me," Lizzie said.
She wasn't.
"I'm going to be covered in clay and mud or whatever by the time we finish this," Lizzie said, plopping another large clump of clay on top of the growing figure that started at the floor.
Hope decided to start at the bottom and make her way up, so feet, ankles, calves, knees, and thighs were already formed.
Lizzie, having no artistic ability whatsoever, simply helped by adding more clay to the mix when Hope requested it. She also made multiple trips to the storage room and back to get more.
"This is not what I intended for my Christmas day," Lizzie said.
"Thank you for helping," Hope said, working to mold the navel and torso next.
"So, this is for that guy Ryan you mentioned?" Lizzie said, crinkling her nose. "Wouldn't he have a problem being, you know… mud?"
"Not really," Hope shrugged. "He's pretty used to it."
"Used to…" her eyes widened. "Hope, please don't tell me by Ryan you mean Deputy Agent Ryan Clarke."
"Okay, then I won't tell you," Hope said matter-of-factly.
"I do not get it," Lizzie said.
"It's simple," Hope walked around to smooth out the buttocks and lower back. "Wherever I was when I wasn't in my body, I think it was limbo. But I wasn't alone. He was there."
"Convenient," Lizzie rolled her eyes.
"He's trapped there, Lizzie," Hope said, standing up straight again and putting the next glob of clay on top to fill out the chest and upper back. "He can't pass on, and he can't come back here. He's just stuck. And he's all alone. I can't leave him there like that."
Lizzie watched her work. Hope was working frantically. Like if she stopped for a minute, all hope she had would be gone.
"You care about him," Lizzie said, not asking just stating.
"Okay, Lizzie, I know it's strange, but even after all that stuff where he attacked me, we had this…conversation," Hope said, blowing a piece of hair off her face as she continued. "It helped me understand him more. And it helped me forgive him, and I've been beating myself up ever since that I didn't find a way to save him. But now I can. I made a wish. I asked Santa. And he actually answered, Lizzie. I can do it. I can save him."
She looked at Lizzie. "I have to save him, Lizzie. And this is how I do it."
"By building him a body made of mud and putting him back into it," Lizzie said.
"Yes," Hope nodded. "It's what Santa said to do."
"So I assume when you put him in that," Lizzie pointed at the three-quarter built sculpture, "he's just going to miraculously look exactly how he did before? A mud man but with skin and bone and everything?"
"That's what I'm hoping," Hope said. "Santa said to build it to scale."
"In that case, you're missing a part," Lizzie said.
"I'm almost to the head," Hope said, adding more clay.
"I didn't mean that one," Lizzie said.
"What?" Hope glanced at her.
"I'm just saying," Lizzie shrugged sheepishly. "Now's your chance to make sure he's well endowed."
"Oh."
Lizzie nearly laughed out loud when Hope blushed and looked down.
"Do you need some pointers? I've at least seen one," Lizzie smirked.
"I've got it!" Hope said, brushing off her comment and getting back to work.
With Hope working as quickly as tribid-possible, the entire work of art was complete thirty minutes later.
"It's done," Hope said, stepping back.
"Now what?"
"I don't know… I mean, I can't really put the entire sculpture in the kiln," Hope said. "Do I need to set it on fire to get it to firm up, or…"
"He's a mud man, Hope," Lizzie said. "Not a statue man. Just do whatever spell you need to do and let's get this over with."
"Okay."
Hope opened the box on the counter next to her and looked at the trident.
"Well?"
"Lizzie, thank you for all your help," Hope said, picking up the trident carefully. "I think I'll take care of the rest."
Lizzie nodded knowingly, "Then good luck, and Merry Christmas!"
Hope barely waved at her as her friend left and closed the door behind her.
It had to work.
Walking toward the figure, she looked it over, making sure she didn't miss any detail. She wasn't sure how exact she was supposed to be, but she did her best in any case.
Moving the trident forward, she stopped suddenly.
"Of course," she said sarcastically to herself. She marched to the side of the room and grabbed a large smock off the wall.
Draping it around the figure's shoulders and buttoning down the front, she decided he would be covered enough.
The arms were bent with the elbow out to his sides, hands on his hips. It was the only way she could think to form the arms and keep them in place. Hanging from his shoulders in a wet clay form, the limbs might just plop to the floor. She smoldered those in place slightly just to be on the safe side.
This better work.
Finally, finally, she took the trident and dug it into one of the hands.
The purple glow transferred from the metal hook.
She stepped back, taking the trident with her, clutching it to her as she waited.
The glow spread and things started changing.
The figure looked like it was shifting, moving.
She could see movement under the smock, the elbows that were holding out the material unbent, and the arms moved through the holes in the sleeves.
Still, all she saw was mud, and it scared her. Had she really brought him back only to put him in an actual body made from nothing but mud? Would he be Malivore 2.0? Would he hate her for it?
As she watched, one of the arms moved up to his face and with the palm of his hand, he began to wipe.
Flesh.
She could see it! Somehow, it really was him.
He wiped the mud completely away from his face, struggling to get it away from his eyes and mouth.
She grabbed a towel and hurried forward to help him.
"You're alive!" she gasped out, staring at his face in wonder while she kept wiping. The towel quickly became too dirty to help much more, but it was okay.
"Really outdid yourself this time, Mikaelson," he said, but he was grinning.
"Can you move everything?" she said, looking down at his feet.
He picked up a foot and shook his leg at her.
Mud dropped to the floor but she didn't care.
"Okay, first thing, you need a shower," she laughed.
"Uh, yeah," he said, glancing down at himself. "And something a little more form fitting."
"I'll see what I can find," she grinned.
It took another hour before he managed to get all the mud off and she managed to clean all the mud up in the art room—as well as the trail he left on his way to the shower.
But finally, there he was in the jeans and t-shirt she found for him.
"Ryan," she said, smiling brighter than she had in weeks.
"In the flesh this time," he said. "I thought you died. I didn't know they brought you back. And you actually did it. You didn't leave me there to rot forever." The surprise and astonishment was evident on his face.
"I couldn't let that happen," she said. "I'm sorry it took so long."
"Wasn't that long for me," he reminded her.
"Well, on earth, it took just long enough," she said. "Guess what today is?"
"Please say it's still December," he said.
"It's Christmas!" she said gleefully. "No Christmas every day here like you have there, but…"
"I'd give it all away just to be here," he said truthfully. "To have somewhere to go and not be… alone."
"Spend today with me then," she said. "We'll do Christmas for real."
"Someone around here might have a problem with that," he pointed out.
"I really don't care," she said. "You're home now. That's all that matters."
"It's nice to have someone to come home to," he said without thinking.
She blushed.
"Oh, you thought I meant you," he smirked.
"Ryan!"
"Relax, Hope, whom I don't have to call Mikaelson since she no longer calls me Clarke," he teased. "Let's go do Christmas right."
She grabbed his arm to tug him along.
"Hey… got any mistletoe around here?"
"You wish!"
Finished.
Merry Christmas!