A Christmas Carol:
The Second of Three
Oliver awoke with a sudden start, his chest pounding and satin sheets pooling around his waist as he sat upright. It took him a moment to realize he was back in bed, and another moment to stop clenching his fists. Leaning back against his headboard, he breathed heavily, beads of sweat falling from his brow as he stared at the ceiling.
A bad dream.
That's what he wanted to call it, but he knew it wasn't anything of the sort. Everything had been too clear, too vivid, and too real. And as he came to accept this fact he realized that, if he was to believe what he was told, he still had two more spirits to meet with.
The thought didn't sit well with him, naturally. He'd rather not have to deal with any more of this… but Noll was smart enough to know that he didn't have much say in the matter.
Glancing at the timepiece still dormant on his nightstand, Oliver found that it was, again, almost one in the morning. He did not want to think of how such a thing was possible, as it was obvious that spirits had some kind of power over time, but this unnerved him. He had less time to mentally prepare for the next spirit than he thought he would.
But, he supposed it didn't mean he couldn't still try. In an attempt to ready himself, Oliver took a seat at the edge of the bed, crossing his arms as he waited for the silence within the room to be interrupted.
Eventually, the clock struck one, but nothing happened. Not a sound was made, except the chime of a grandfather clock down the hall, and no figure appeared before him.
For a moment, Oliver believed he had been mistaken… perhaps the time was wrong… or perhaps it had really been a dream. As much as he would have loved to believe such a thing, he, unfortunately, knew better. And turning his head toward the adjourning door within his room, he found that he was right.
Oliver's eyes caught a warm and faint light shining underneath it. Knowing that he had not caught the source himself, it wasn't a stretch to believe that it may have had something to do with his next visitor.
He waited a few more minutes, expecting something to burst into the room, but nothing happened. All the while in his waiting, the light shone invitingly through the crack of his door. His expression changing from exhausted to annoyed, Oliver rose to his feet and crossed the room, reaching for the knob.
"Enter, my good man!" a jovial voice boomed from behind the door, just as the detective's fingers skimmed the brass.
Without hesitation, Oliver threw open the door and stared with hidden bewilderment at the transformation of his study. Gaudy green and red decorations hung from the ceiling, large in size and draped with care. A feast, fit for a king, sat on a long table which took the place of his desk adjacent from a roaring fireplace. Overlooking it all was the tallest of Christmas trees, decorated with golden ornaments and fresh popcorn. The only thing missing from it was the topper, which sat in the hand of a tall man-like spirit in a green robe lined with white fur, standing on top of an even taller ladder.
"You are just in time, Mr. Davis. I am about to put the topper on," the spirit grinned, holding up the golden star-shaped object.
Upon closer examination, the spirit looked almost wild. From under a holly wreath, his brown uncombed hair fell just at his shoulders and a stud twinkled in one of his ears. His robe was slightly oversized and much too long, dragging on the floor even from his spot at the top of the ladder. Gray slacks pooled around ankles attached to bare feet which were just as bare as his exposed chest, the pants he wore hung off his hips, nearly falling had it not been for the rope tied around it like a makeshift belt. Attached was a rusted scabbard that held no weapon and seemed to have no other purpose other than for decoration.
"Would you like to do the honors?" the specter asked, shaking the ornament jovially. His question was met with silence and he chuckled, "No?" Not waiting for confirmation, the ghost wasted no time doing the task himself.
"I am a big fan, Oliver Davis. Love your work. But I wouldn't want to be in your shoes right now," he chuckled, leaning back to look at the topper. "Does that look crooked to you?" Not waiting for an answer (not that he would have gotten one) he adjusted the star and leaned back again. "Be visited by three spirits? No, thank you. I spend enough time with them."
Satisfied with the tree, the spirit sat on the very top of the ladder and peered down at Oliver with a jolly smile, who stared back with no hint of merriment in his features. He was not happy in the slightest. The visions of the past the previous spirit had shown him still weighed on his heart, and he wanted nothing more than to be alone so that he could concentrate on bottling up the emotions she had stirred. But here he was, standing in front of another spirit who seemed even more ridiculous than the last.
"On with it," Oliver demanded, hands sliding into the pockets of his night clothes.
The spirit laughed at this. "You order me around as if I am an employee. Shall I call you Boss?" Sobering up after another moment, he leaned forward to let his arms rest on his knees. "Fine. I suppose you know why I am here. Call me the Ghost of Christmas Present!"
"Spirit," the young ravenette called up to the figure, his patience running thin, "whatever lesson you have come to teach me, teach it. I wish to get this over with quick, so that I may be alone with my thoughts. This night has given me much to think about."
Rising from the ladder, the spirit regarded him for a moment before hopping down and holding out his sleeve. "Touch my robe, then."
Oliver eyed him wearily with hidden uncertainly, before grabbing the fur of the ghost man's robe.
Slowly, their surroundings changed until they were outside, in the middle of an old cobbled street. The investigator instantly recognized it as one of the poorer residential areas in town.
"Where are we going?" He asked, releasing the spirit's sleeve. He didn't see what this had to do with him.
The specter merely smiled to himself and started a light stroll.
Reluctantly, Oliver followed watching with both irritation and curiosity as he sprinkled a sparkling substance from a horn, which he'd produced from within his robe, on every doorstep that they passed. "It's a blessing," the ghost-man explained, answering Oliver's unasked question. "A Christmas blessing."
"I see," was his only reply. Attention soon going to their surrounding.
Covered deep in snow, the buildings around them emitted a melancholy that couldn't be shaken. Most, if not all, the homes they passed were in shambles. Broken windows were boarded up to keep out the draft, paint peeled off the brick, and everything was covered in a layer of grime that wouldn't leave even with the elbow grease of ten housemaids.
And... yet, as depressing as it was, the people stayed indifferent to it. They did not move with broken spirits as most pictured the poor to do. With heads high they wished each other a merry Christmas as they passed, all rushing off to prepare for their holiday dinners while the children ran down the street, slipping and sliding as they pelted each other with balls of snow.
He didn't see how a mere holiday could make people so... happy. It was a time when people seemed to feel the need to forget their troubles for a moment in time. In truth, it wasn't real happiness they were feeling, but rather the illusion of it. As soon as the holidays were over, they'd go back to their dreary lives, working a job that would lead them nowhere until they were six feet under.
As the thought passed him, he paused in step as a familiar boy walked by his line of sight.
Mai's son.
Though he'd only met him a few times (and none since the death of his brother), the fact that he was the spitting image of his mother made him easy to spot.
Immediately Noll realized now what they were doing when the jolly spirit began to follow behind the youth, and frowned. However, his eyes didn't leave the tiny child in front of him.
If he remembered correctly, the boy was most likely six or seven but cursed with his mother's short stature and baby face he looked a few years younger than he should.
And yet, unlike the other children around them, the boy didn't stop to play in the snow, despite the calls from what Oliver assumed was his friends. Instead, he walked with the purpose and rush of the other adults, a small bread basket in hand as he hurried into one of the slightly better looking homes on the grimy street.
With a hesitation that only showed in the curl of his fingers, Oliver followed behind the Specter who headed into the home after the little boy, after sprinkling the dust from his horn to bless the house.
As they entered, the smell of a modest but well-cooked dinner filled the edifice. Having never stepped inside of Mai's home, the detective found himself examining the room. It was quaint and much cleaner on the inside than the outside. The home was two stories, but thin, as most row homes tended to be. With what little she could afford, his assistant had dressed her living/dining room in warm browns and given the place a very inviting effect. It was by no means lavish or the like, but one could tell she put care into her home.
Takeshi set the bread down on an already set table and ran into the kitchen where the woman of the home herself was cooking Christmas dinner. Mai broke out into a grin when she saw her son and, turning from her saucepan, she knelt down to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Welcome home."
The boy returned her grin and threw his arms around her. "I put the bread on the table, Mama."
"Wonderful. No trouble at the baker's then?"
Takeshi shook his head and leaned forward as if about to tell a secret. "No, Mr. Dickens even slipped us an extra roll for free!"
Mai chuckled. "Really? Wasn't that nice of him... We'll have to make him a card, now won't we?"
The boy nodded profusely, the idea of making a homemade card lighting a fire in him. When he began to ramble on about other people they had to make cards for, it was soon clear that he was a creative and considerate child. Not many people would name the postman as a card recipient.
The smile never leaving her face, Mai added to the boy's list: "And don't forget Mr. Davis."
Takeshi cocked his head to the side and laughed. "Oh, right. Can't forget Mama's boss!"
Patting the boy on the head. Mai stood back up to her full height and gestured toward the washroom. "Now go wash up, it's almost time for dinner and everyone will be coming soon."
"Ok!" The boy complied, running off to do as he was told.
The moment that Takeshi left the room, Mai's smile fell and she swayed slightly, catching herself by gripping the counter. Though she had done her best to hide her condition from her son, it was now painfully obvious to Oliver that she wasn't in the best of health... and he frowned at this.
The spirit beside him looked on with sympathy in his eyes as the woman panted and wiped a bit of sweat from her brow. "No doubt the cause of a thin coat in freezing weather," the robed man pointed out casually.
"No doubt," Noll agreed, blue eyes staying trained on his assistant as she tried to pull herself together. He wondered absently if she'd also concealed her sick state from him too, or if it had manifested itself after she'd left the office. Mai was known to hide her problems from everyone, but usually, he noticed when something was bothering her.
Or at least, that had used to be the case. Lately, it seemed she'd become rather good at hiding things from him too. Ever since her confession and the death of Gene, things between them had never really been the same.
Regardless, it bothered him greatly to see her bent over her kitchen counter, struggling to provide for her son. Something in him ached. "She never mentioned anything about being sick… She should have told me," he told the spirit, stepping closer to her. Mai looked so pale… it was a wonder he hadn't noticed before.
"She didn't want to burden you," the spirit told him casually.
"Why would she think I'd be burdened?"
"Because she's done it before, hasn't she?" the ghost questioned, looking at him with a weighted gaze. "Tried to lean on you, that is."
Oliver furrowed his brow at this and shook his head. He was aware this was in reference to the woman's confession… but he didn't find it very relevant. "This is different."
"Is it?"
The detective took a step back, eyes going back to Mai as she tried to regain her composure. The ache inside him grew.
"She tried to open up to you that day, did she not? You wouldn't accept it. You shut her out… and you've been shutting her out ever since."
"Because she was confused," Oliver snapped before he could stop himself, his fists clenching. His relationship with the woman had always been a sore topic.
"Was she the one who was?" the specter pressed, turning to face Noll fully. "I do not believe that there is a woman on Earth who would profess her love to the wrong man. Especially not one such as her," he continued, seeming genuinely confused, "Is she not trustworthy? Is she not genuine?"
Oliver scoffed at this. "Of course she is."
The ghost turned back to face Mai as she began to finish her task of making dinner. He sighed heavily, pitying her. "It was you who pushed her away… and yet you are surprised when she does not come running back in her time of need?"
"It was better that way…" Oliver explained, unsure why he felt the need to. "She deserved better."
The specter smiled knowingly, a hum on his lips. "She deserved Gene?"
While caught off guard by his words, Noll could not deny it. It was something he had always thought. He nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. The two of them had been such a perfect fit. They had complemented each other in ways he could never do… ways he had admitted to himself a long time ago that he couldn't be confident enough to do.
It might have seemed strange. Oliver Davis not being confident about something… but it was the unfortunate truth.
The spirit spoke again, breaking into his thoughts. "I cannot say I don't agree… and your brother loved her dearly, but he was not the one she wanted."
"I… am aware," he said with uncharacteristic hesitance. The ache he felt was becoming too much the more they continued with this conversation. He wanted to stop.
He knew what the ghost was trying to get at. That day in the snow… Oliver had anticipated it long before it had happened. Mai had been so easy to read back then. She'd light up every time he entered a room and for the life of him he could never understand why. He was not good with matters of the heart… they had never interested him before, but for some reason with Mai it hadn't seemed like such a nuisance.
Naturally, that had frightened him.
Murders and thieves Oliver could deal with, and he had pretended to court many women in order to get information… but when it came to a woman's genuine affection for him, one that he might have possibly been able to return, he had found it terrifying.
In truth, whether Gene had felt affection for her or not, Oliver would have turned her down regardless… but while Mai was looking at him, he had been watching his brother look at her. Gene had looked so smitten… so helpless… Noll couldn't have helped but try to protect his poor brother from a broken heart.
So he had shut her out that day… and every day since.
"Gene, too, was aware," the Ghost of Christmas Present told him in such a way that it gave Oliver pause.
Considering his brother had been the first to warn him of his ghostly visitors to come, he wondered if it were possible that he had orchestrated all of this himself. Was Gene trying to tell him something?
Looking at Mai, he could guess what it was.
Days before his death, Gene had confronted Oliver about the incident with Mai.
Naturally, the simple fool had been more concerned with how the two of them felt than about his own feelings for the woman. Oliver had known all along that Gene would rather see his brother happy than be selfish, and so he had denied any accusation that he felt anything for Mai.
Gene, of course, knew he was lying… but he also knew how stubborn his brother was. The matter had been dropped, but could never be picked up again before his untimely death…
It was likely, Oliver supposed, that this was Gene trying to finish that conversation. It was so like that man… even in death, he didn't put himself first. Rather than tell him who killed him, Gene would rather play matchmaker. It was preposterous.
A knock at the door brought Oliver back out of his train of thought.
"I'll get it!" Takeshi shouted before his mother could move. Soon there was the sound of the door opening and the boy let out a pleased gasp. "Mama, it's the Reverend and his wife!"
The ghost and Oliver followed Mai as she walked out to greet her guests, a smile gracing her lips despite her hidden physical troubles. Reverend Brown stepped into the small home matching her smile with one of his own, his wife and three-year-old daughter not far behind.
"Oh, Masako, look at you," Mai gushed as the woman took off her coat to reveal a round pregnant belly. "You've grown so big."
"Far too big," Masako complained, tutting. "Grace was not nearly this large."
The two chuckled and embraced.
"Mai," John addressed, pulling off his coat, "You'll have to excuse the intrusion… but we've seem to have collected two extra mouths on our way here."
Mai tilted her head in confusion, only to gasp when two young ladies stepped into the still open doorway. One was a shy blonde and rather tall for her age, of which could not be more than sixteen, while the other was much shorter but slightly older with brown hair and a more outgoing demeanor.
Oliver recognized them both instantly, though both had grown since he'd last met them. They were Mai's adoptive children. Heather, the tall blond, had lost her parents in an unfortunate case that he and his brother had taken on. Unable to stand the idea of the girl being orphaned, Mai had taken her in. Martha, on the other hand, had been a street urchin she had come across. Being who Mai was, she had been unable to turn a blind eye to the girl's plight. And in the end, she had ended up with more mouths to feed.
"Heather, Martha… I didn't think the two of you could make it!" Mai exclaimed, pulling them both into a bone crushing hug. "But what of your apprenticeships?"
"The Reverend convinced Mr. Bradford that it was hardly humane to keep two daughters from their mother on Christmas," Martha stated matter-of-factly.
John laughed, "I merely explained your wish to see them, is all, and promised to have them back after Christmas post haste."
"Oh thank you, John," Mai sniffed, hugging him next, her eyes starting to water. Everyone smiled at her lovingly, as she tried not to cry and fanning herself with one hand, she motioned them all to come in fully as she went to shut the front door. "I have quite the full house this Christmas, don't I?" she laughed. "I don't know if I made enough…"
John waved her off, "Whatever it is we'll make due. What's more important is that we're all together."
"In any case, mother, you rest," Martha insisted pushing Mai toward a chair. "Heather and I will finish dinner."
The woman blinked, "Are you sure?"
"Quite sure," Heather also insisted, kissing her mother on the cheek.
The two girls rushed off into the kitchen after removing their coats, while Tenshi took Grace by the hand and lead her to where he'd started making Christmas cards. John and Masako joined Mai at the table, and the three of them began making small talk. Oliver zoned most of it out, his eyes trained on Mai who seemed to be still skillfully hiding her troubles.
Eventually, much to Oliver's surprise, the topic of conversation turned to him.
"Is Oliver making you work?"
"No, but I think I'd like to stop by for a moment…" Mai admitted absently.
Masako made a face and scoffed lightly. "Whatever for?" While once upon a time she had been interested in Oliver, she now criticized him just as freely as she would anyone else.
"Well, I'm sure he'll spend all day in the office like he normally does," Mai explained, brows furrowing. "I doubt he'll have many visitors…"
The pregnant woman shook her head, "I say if he wishes to be alone on Christmas, let him."
Mai smiled a sad but warm smile, her eyes lowering for a moment. "No one should be alone on Christmas," she told her friend firmly, believing it wholly. However, there was something else in her words. Something that went deeper than merely not wanting him to be alone because of a silly holiday.
John seemed to pick up on this because he gave her the sincerest of smiles. "All this time and you still love him."
Mai laughed and, while in the past such a thing may have gotten her flustered, she smiled in confirmation, her cheeks coloring only slightly. "I will always love him."
Suddenly Oliver felt very sick, the ache he felt inside of him making him pale.
For Mai to still love him…
After all this time…
After everything, he'd said and done…
He couldn't comprehend it, and he knew he didn't deserve it.
"Come, my time is nearing its end," the specter cut in, stepping in front of Naru's view of Mai. He looked considerably older since Naru had first happened upon him, but he did not point this out.
Reluctantly, Noll followed the ghostly figure out of the house and together they walked down the paved streets of London. Hours passed as the specter showed him many other homes and families preparing for Christmas. Some poor, some extravagant, but all merry and inviting. They watched and observed, not a single word ever passing between them as Oliver mulled over what he'd been showed thus far.
Eventually, they stopped before the clock tower, the minute hand moments from striking twelve.
All through their walk, the spirit had continued to age gradually, until now what stood before Oliver was not the young man from before but an older gentleman whose clothes now fit his heavier figure.
"Are spirit's lives so short?" he asked the ghost finally, feeling that their time together was nearly finished.
"My time is, unfortunately, a very brief one," he admitted with a nod, eyes not leaving the clock. "It ends tonight."
"Tonight?" Oliver echoed, with a frown. He supposed he saw the sense in it. A specter of the present should only exist for the present he supposed.
As he pondered this, something caught his eye about the phantom's robe. While at first he'd merely though the man had grown more portly, Oliver now realized that this was not the case. Rather, there was something else under his robe.
"Look here." Catching his gaze, the ghost pulled back his robe to reveal two small children clinging to him. One boy, one girl, both wretched and pitiful in appearance. Starved and dirty, they looked more like monsters than like humans in appearance. The sight of them caused even Oliver to step back, appalled. He did not mean to offend, but there was clearly the devil in them. Their presence alone was ominous.
"Are they yours?" he found himself asking, unsure as to why he was being shown them.
"No. They are mankind's... They cling to me appealing from their fathers," the spirit explained, looking down at them, "This boy is pride. This girl is ignorance. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it!"
"Have they no refuge? No one to help them?"
"Money is all tied up in other things, Mr. Davis. They couldn't possibly be offered even a cent," the spirit spoke to him for the last time, uttering a variation of his own words as the clock struck twelve.
Oliver blinked as the last bell chimed, and the spirit was gone, leaving him alone on the dark street.
Remembering Gene's warning, he realized he still had one last spirit to go, and exhaling, he turned his head to find a hooded figure looming a distance away, more sinister than any other spirit before him as he advanced toward the detective like rolling mist.
A/N: Let's see if I can actually finish this time around. Hehe. If not by Christmas, then hopefully by New Years, no?
P.S. When writing this, the Hamilton song "Satisfied" kept popping into my head. Kinda fitting, a little.
