Hello, all.

Firstly, I want to give a shout-out to magitech for his reviews - and also to GoddlessOutrage, who, while we disagree some matters, strikes me as a very decent author. Should you be interested in Harry Potter fan fiction, I'd give his story a look.

Should you have any questions or comments, don't be afraid to leave a review. Or a personal message. Whatever floats your boat.

Important to note, I will not be posting a chapter this upcoming Friday (the 18th). My next chapter will be posted Thursday the 24th.

Also, I do realize that these last chapters have not been the most action-filled. That's partially because I personally am more a fan of character-driven stories as opposed to action-filled stories. While I do mix them occasionally, I obviously far more heavily lean toward conversational chapters. That all said, don't fret - action will make it's appearance in upcoming chapters. I guarantee you.

I do not own any of the characters, songs, poems, or alcohol brands. Truth be told, I don't own much of anything.

"Mine eyes have grown dim and my hair has turned white,

But my heart beats as warmly and gaily tonight

As in days that are gone and years that are fled-

Though I fill up my flagon and drink to the dead;

For over my senses sweet memories fall,

And the dead is come back to old Bachelor Hall."

Doctor Light was going to walk by, even after hearing that delivery waft from beyond the door to her left, but curiosity got the better of her. Sighing, and not knowing entirely what to expect, given the rumors and hearsay, she knocked lightly on the door.

The recitation ceased, and seconds later, the door slid open, Question on the other side. Neither said anything for a few seconds, then Doctor Light spoke up.

"Can I come in?"

Question nodded, and glided back to his computer, as Doctor Light walked in. The room was, well, exactly what Doctor Light would have guessed given all she's heard about Question. Almost four months in, though, she never once actually met him. But it was Christmas, and precious few people were left on the Watchtower. A skeleton crew remained, and a few heroes stayed up here, those who had no Christmas plans, Doctor Light and Question among them.

His room was an interesting one, for lack of a better word - posters lined the wall (the 'Got Fluoride?' caught her eye first, though the obviously fake Bigfoot picture taped onto his window followed thereafter), a bulletin board linking the most bizarre and unconnected events up with each other above his computer (and one on the right wall), and overflowing file cabinets. Yep, she considered, taking a glance around, this is exactly like I would have thought.

"What's with that poem? The one you were reciting," she asked, hoping the question didn't come across as too personal too soon.

Typing on his keyboard, not bothering to look back, he replied. "Tired. Reciting poetry keeps my mental state aware. Need to work."

"Oh, what are you working on," she further inquired, trying to look over his shoulder at the screen, seeing a headline about breakfast bars containing amino acid chains before he switched off the screen.

"Can I help you with something," he asked, a slight edge in his voice, as he turned toward her.

"I haven't met you yet, Question, and as we're teammates, I thought it might be beneficial to finally do so."

"If you came to mock me about my work, then please go away."

"I said I was here to meet you," Doctor Light forcefully replied, aggravated already by his impersonal nature, and understanding more why she's heard what she's heard about him. "I don't know anything about your work, and I'm certainly not here to make fun of you for it."

At this, Question remained silent. "Not much for company. Not tonight. Not now," he told her.

"You don't say," she sarcastically replied. "It's Christmas, Question. You don't think you can relax for just a little? I heard there was going to be a small gathering of the League still up here later on tonight, so you should come to that."

"I'm busy," he stressed.

"I've never seen someone try so hard to avoid people," Doctor Light replied, her annoyance quite obvious. "From what I understand, when you're not on a mission, you're here in your room. Without fail. I'm not really a peoples' person myself, but damn it, at least I'm trying. What's with you?"

"Not having this conversation again," Question cryptically replied, and made to swivel back around when Doctor Light placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Listen, it's Christmas. And I understand that you either don't like or don't want to get to know the people you're working with. But I'm not leaving. You want to stay here all Christmas? Fine. Then I'm staying too," she adamantly said.

"Why?"

"Because no one should be alone on Christmas, Question," she replied simply.

At this, Question sighed.

"If you must, then stay."

Doctor Light smiled lightly at this. It's not much, but it's something.

It's something.

It was hard. Christmas always was. Easter wasn't easy either, but at least Pat didn't have as much to do to provide Courtney a perfectly fine day then. Christmas was a whole different story.

He tried though; Lord knows he tried. His first gift to her, a gag gift, a mug with her name and the original meaning (short nose), had managed to get her to crack a smile. The second present, a red and black cashmere scarf, was more genuine, but the gift that really made Pat proud was a pack of CD's that she really wanted. Pat didn't understand the appeal that some of it had, but after listening to a tune by Coldplay, he was happy to see that Courtney's musical taste wasn't too inaccessible.

It wasn't the same, though.

Her mother could have done so much better, Pat considered, a loud sigh escaping him as he sat on his bed. Sadder still, Courtney's present to him was nothing short of amazing. And he knew what he gave her simply couldn't compete.

He didn't have long to consider this, though, as a knock came upon his door, and seconds later, Courtney walked in, grinning widely at him. "Let Go's a great album, Pat. Thanks a bunch for getting it for me."

"Which one was that," Pat replied, trying to shake his thoughts away, happy she enjoyed it.

"Avril Lavigne. You know, 'Complicated,' 'Sk8er Boi.' It's a really good album."

"How do the others stack up against it?"

"I listened to Let Go like five times now, so I don't know," she replied unconcerned, removing her mask. "You sure my present was okay? I mean, I wasn't sure, but it seemed like-"

"It's better than okay, Courtney," Pat said, though his felt his smile waning. "It was very touching. And I thank you."

"You holding up, Pat," she asked, dropping the pretense of her stopping by. "I know Christmas can sometimes be hard for you." Pat gave her a look, and she tacked on, "For both of us, really."

"I'm okay, it's just," Pat began, but then stopped. It's not right to put this all on her. He shook his head. "You know, thinking about your mother is never easy. And I'm trying, but-"

"Pat, I still remember what she said the last time we saw her. She was joking around, sure, but she did tell me to take care of you while she was gone," Courtney stated, sitting down next to him and taking his hand in hers, her voice gentle. "I know it's not fair. It's not easy to not think about her. But you know she'd want us to be happy."

"You were only 12, and I didn't have any idea how to raise a kid," Pat replied.

"You did just fine," Courtney said with a smile. "I promise," she reiterated, "you did just fine. Don't worry about it."

"I miss her, Courtney," Pat spoke, gulping. "God, I miss her."

"I miss her too," Courtney replied, pulling him into a tight hug. "I miss her too. But you're doing fine."

The two embraced each other for a minute more in silence. "Pat, I'm sorry for acting bratty at times. Please don't think I don't appreciate you or I don't love you," she said, letting go of him. "I do love you, and that's not going to change."

"I think that's the best present you could ever get me," Pat replied, grinning sadly. "I love you too. And I always will."

Rocket Red stood on the deck, looking down on Earth. A few heroes were on the bridge; Mister Terrific was taking over for J'onn, though it was more ceremonial than anything - it was unlikely anything would come up tonight of all nights. But Rocket Red was alone on the deck.

Or he thought he was.

"Hey, man," a voice called out, and he looked over his right shoulder.

"Atom-Smasher," he said, pulling his heavy helmet off. "You are well, yes?"

"Moderately so, yeah," he replied, looking out down at Earth also. "You coming to the Christmas party tonight?"

"Da. Though I must admit," Rocket Red replied, stroking his beard, "this whole Christmas thing is still strange to me."

"What, no Christmas in Russia," Atom-Smasher joked.

"New Year's Day was a far bigger deal," he said with a shrug. "I knew some people celebrated Christmas, but not many. Orthodox Christians were sometimes arrested and fined, so much of the time, people didn't openly celebrate it."

"What, was this New Year's Day like a replacement," Atom-Smasher asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Da, that is a fair comparison. Ded Moroz would bring us all presents with the help of Snegurochka. We'd stand around the fir tree on New Year's Eve, and call out for Ded Moroz. It was a good childhood for the most part," Rocket Red finished, a nostalgic look in his eyes. "Christmas, American Christmas," he added, "just doesn't really make sense to me."

"I'm Jewish, man," Atom-Smasher replied with a grin. "Chanukah, I understand. Christmas isn't that much different. I mean, really, you gather around, hand out presents, drink eggnog and eat ham. As far as I'm concerned, that's the extent to it."

"Ham, I'm not a fan of," Rocket Red said, and smiled. "But the rest sounds good with me."

His face straight, Atom-Smasher replied, "It's not my cup of tea either."

Rocket Red gave a hearty chuckle at this, and looked back down at Earth. "Even after Gorbachev and Yeltsin, I felt proud to be Russian. But times have changed. You know," he continued, looking over at Atom-Smasher, "when I came to the United States and became a citizen, people never seemed to trust me? All they could see was a Communist. Not a person, and certainly not someone worth respecting."

"Well, the Red Scare really screwed Russians over, I agree. You're not still a Communist, though, are you," Atom-Smasher inquired, a look of surprise on his face. "I would have thought after the USSR fell, that whole Communist thing would have stopped."

"Please keep in mind, friend, that the Soviet Union was my country," Rocket Red stated. "Just like you, I am sure, are proud to be American, I was very happy with my country. Oh, we had problems, but what country didn't?" Before Atom-Smasher could cut in, Rocket Red added, "And yes, for all intents and purposes, I am politically a Communist."

"Must be a real shock to the system, living right now in America with those views," Atom-Smasher replied, somewhat sympathetic. "I mean, under Bush and all."

At this, Rocket Red shrugged. "I voted Nader. I did what I could."

Atom-Smasher chuckled. "Well, we only have a few more years of Bush, pal. I'm sure we can make it through."

Shaking his head, Rocket Red replied, "That's not what I would call uplifting, friend."

"Well, I heard that Aztek was going to bring a bunch of alcohol for the party tonight, so maybe that'd help."

Rocket Red shrugged. "Da, I guess that it's a start." He continued looking down at Earth. He sighed heavily. "I miss my homeland. I can't pretend otherwise. My friends. Vadim, Boris, Alexei. It's just not the same."

"It's difficult, yeah," Atom-Smasher replied, patting him on his back. "We have a fir tree in the lounge. You want to stand around it and call out to Ded Moraz, we can do that."

"Moroz, friend, Moroz," Rocket Red replied with a chuckle. "But thank you. We should do that."

"Well, someone will get you when we're ready," Atom-Smasher stated. "See you then."

Rocket Red nodded. "Thank you, friend."

After he left, Rocket Red turned his head back to Earth, thoughts of the Motherland swarming back. A small tear coming from the corner of his eye.

"No family, I take it?"

"Bored," Question replied, waving his hand. "This doesn't interest me at all."

"You know," Doctor Light stated, "you could at least pretend to care about other people."

"I have no family. I have few acquaintances. Anything else?"

Doctor Light growled. "I'm this close, jackass, to leaving," she exclaimed, holding her thumb and index finger a millimeter apart. "You're certainly not making this easy."

Question shrugged at that, not appearing overly bothered by being called a jackass. "My work is important. Christmas, or company, for that matter, isn't. Not trying to be a jerk. Small talk is not something I am bothering with, though."

"Fine, no small talk," Doctor Light agreed, somewhat aggressively. "Are you interested at all in eventually having a family, or are you content with just being a loner your whole life?"

She got the sense that Question rolled his eyes, but then again, it was impossible to tell for sure.

"I'm sure that will happen down the road," Question replied, though his tone, at least in Doctor Light's opinion, was rather unconvinced.

"You don't even care, do you?" She sighed as Question remained silent. After a few seconds, she rolled her eyes, and stood up, making her way to the door.

"I do care," a reply came, just before she was able to leave. Turning back to him, she was surprised to see him looking straight at her.

"I do care," he repeated, "but my work, my research, is more important."

"More important than your happiness," Doctor Light replied, her tone much gentler than earlier.

"The truth very rarely leads to happiness," Question enigmatically stated. "It's the truth I seek. Anything else can come after that."

Doctor Light shook her head, not understanding this at all. "So looking for what you consider the truth is more important than being happy? That's-"

"Insane, I know," Question cut her off, annoyed. "Heard it before. Told you that."

"I guess we're just different people, Question. And I can't really relate to how you view this."

"Wouldn't expect you to. But now you have a little perspective on me, though. Is that what you were looking for?"

Hesitating a second, Doctor Light sat on Question's bed. "You know, when I first met Crimson Fox, we got into a huge fight. I guess it's mostly because we're the same type of people. But she really pissed me off. A week later, we went on a mission. Some villain named Killer Frost was holding some people hostage or something. Anyway, we went in intensely disliking each other. But afterwards, we eat together in the commissary every Wednesday. She even helped me pick out a dress for special occasions."

"Point being," Question replied, his tone bored.

"Point being that you can make some really good friends up here. And everyone, even you, could benefit from more friends. I just don't think it's something you should shut yourself off from. If not me, that's fine - I don't get the impression we're compatible anyway. But I honestly feel like you can find time between your work and missions to meet people."

"Don't know why you'd care one way or the other."

"I care because not everyone is as cynical as you," Doctor Light replied, "and I'm a pretty cynical person. Just keep it in mind, please. But if you don't want me here, or anyone, for that matter, then I'm done forcing my company on you."

Question appeared to contemplate her words for a bit. When he replied, though, she couldn't pretend she wasn't disappointed.

"Goodbye then."

In a huff, she stood up and opened the door. Not expecting anything else, she left. Alone, Question spoke aloud. "Thank you for coming by."

He yawned, and turned back to his computer. Seconds later, he began reciting poetry again, right where he left off.

"I see her fair face face through a vapor of tears,

And her sweet voice comes back o'er the desert of years;

And I hear, oh, so gently, the promises she spoke,

And a soft spirit hand soothes the heart that is broke;

So I fill up the flagon, and drink-that is all-

To the dead and the dying of Bachelor Hall."

"Now what am I," Plastic Man asked to the kids, morphing into a very poor looking giraffe. Ralph couldn't help but laugh at this, and the children followed suit.

"A horse," shouted a blonde-haired boy, no more than seven.

"No, you idiot, it's a giraffe," shot back a redhead. "Not a good one, though."

Ralph doubled over at this, banging his fist on the floor, as Plastic Man came back into his human shape. He blew a raspberry at Ralph, and the audience ate it up.

"For my one last trick," Plastic Man said, instigating quite a bit of protest from the children, "I'll need my partner, Ralph, to come up and join me."

Standing up, Ralph went to the front of the room. Plastic Man whispered into his ear, and he nodded.

Both of them going behind a curtain for a few seconds, they walked out moments later in the form of Santa Claus - Elongated Man as Santa, Plastic Man as the sack he was carrying.

"Ho, ho, ho," Ralph said, his voice as low as he could make it. "Merry Christmas. Let's see what we have for you kids," he continued, reaching into Plastic Man, who couldn't help but giggle at the sensation. "Ah, a scooter," Ralph stated, bringing out a medium-sized box. "A few soccer balls," he added, pulling out multiple objects, "a new Mario Party game, some board games, Nerf blasters, and five copies Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire." By this point, the whole audience of children was clapping and cheering. "Have you all been good kids this year?"

A cacophony of affirmatives rang out.

"Well, then, Merry Christmas," Ralph stated aloud, and with a bow, both he and Plastic Man went back behind the curtain, transforming back into their normal selves. A woman, one of the staff members at the Spofford Orphanage, came to the two of them.

"I can't thank you two enough for coming down here," she said, her disposition overly cheery. She pulled both of them into a hug. "The children loved you. Do please think about coming back sometime soon."

"You let us know when, Riva," Plastic Man replied kindly. "We'll be here."

"You asshat," Cynthia screamed, and Courtney, laughing aloud, knew she came to the right people to hang out with.

"Sorry, Cynthia," Aztek sheepishly said, picking up his third star in Mario Party 4. The girl sometimes called Gypsy was trailing with a sole star.

Stargirl jumped in mid-game, but with two stars, she was just happy to not be the cause of Cynthia's annoyance.

"Princess Peach is kicking your ass," Aztek informed Cynthia, nodding over at Stargirl. "Go after her; leave Wario alone."

"Hey, you guys hear that Dove was leaving the League," Stargirl asked, her eyes staying on the screen.

Aztek frowned at this. "Truth be told, I don't think I really met him. You'd think after four months, something'd have to give, but I guess not."

"Dove was a pretty nice guy," Cynthia stated, groaning as she rolled a 2. "When I spoke to him, I got the impression he wasn't happy here, though. Or at the very least, was having second thoughts."

"His brother must be taking it pretty hard," Aztek mused.

"I don't know Hawk at all, but yeah, I'd imagine so," Cynthia replied. "You know, I think I shoulda picked Daisy. Then maybe I'd be winning."

"Oh, that reminds me," Stargirl suddenly spoke, looking at Aztek, "not the Daisy thing, the 'not knowing Dove' thing. Al was putting together a Christmas party later tonight. You guys should definitely come."

"Oh, I know," Aztek said, chuckling. "I spent something like 60 dollars on alcohol for the occasion. Atom-Smasher was very specific in what he wanted."

Stargirl sighed. "If you guys are all going to be drunk, I don't know how much fun I'll have."

"Hey, don't worry," Cynthia said, patting Courtney on her arm, "I don't drink, so I can keep you company if these jackasses all get too impaired."

"You know, you could always join in with us," Aztek stated to Stargirl. "I mean, you're close to 21, right?"

Cynthia punched him on his arm. "No, she can't, you irresponsible jerk."

"Ya know, I'm only 18," Stargirl replied, rolling her eyes. "My b-day was a few weeks ago. If you had come to the party-"

"Couldn't have done it," Aztek said, shaking his head. "Minnesota Wild was beating the hell out of Tampa Bay Lightning. A 5-3 victory on Wild's part. It was a pretty high-scoring game for hockey."

"And that was more important than my birthday party," Stargirl asked in a faux pout.

"Is that even a question," Aztek inquired.

Again, Cynthia punched him in the arm, and Courtney broke out in laughter again.

"You sure you don't want to come to the party, man," Atom-Smasher asked Mr. Terrific. "They'll be drinks, games, food."

"I don't drink, I ate earlier, and I don't celebrate Christmas," he replied. "More so, I have a duty here while J'onn is gone, and I intend to fulfill that duty to the best of my ability."

"Anyone ever tell you that you're a buzzkill, T?"

"Only everyone," he said, with a chuckle. "Seriously, you guys have fun tonight. Try not to get too inebriated, though, just in case we need you."

"I can't promise anything," Atom-Smasher stated, patting Mr. Terrific on his back. "By the way, I heard about what you and Zatanna did for Vibe. Nice job."

"Thanks, though I was hoping that wouldn't get around," Mr. Terrific admitted. "Who told you?"

"Zatanna," Atom-Smasher simply replied.

Mr. Terrific chuckled again. "I should have known. Well, you guys have a good time. If possible, I might try to stop by. Give everyone my regards."

"Will do," Atom-Smasher nodded.

Walking down the winding hallways, he tried to mentally list everyone who was still on the Watchtower, hoping he wouldn't miss anyone.

Let's see, Rocket Red, Nemesis, Stargirl, STRIPE, Question. With that last name in mind, he shook his head, torn. Well, guess I might as well ask him. Anyways, where was I? Stargirl, Question, Cynthia, Aztek, Doctor Mid-Nite, Waverider.

Racking his brain for any other names, none came. Wonder where Courtney is? She could help collect some of these people.

With the objective of trying to find Courtney in mind, Atom-Smasher walked onward.

"I've gotta be honest, Plastic Man," Ralph started, walking outside into the light snowfall, "when you first came to me with this idea, I was skeptical. But the kids loved it. Thanks for bringing me in on this."

Plastic Man shrugged. "Well, I knew for the final trick, I couldn't do it alone. I'm just glad that you decided to help out."

"You want to come over to my place? My wife is making ham tonight, and I guarantee you, you won't want to miss it. That is, if you don't have family you need to get back to yourself."

"I don't," Plastic Man replied softly. Without further comment on that, he asked, "Where do you live, Buffalo, was it?"

"Yeah, and I live pretty close to Lake Erie, so if Sue brings out a fruitcake, I can shift into a raft, and you can make a quick getaway."

"Is that likely," Plastic Man asked, looking up at the snowy twilight.

"Hope not, but if it happens, I think we can take her if we need to," Ralph replied with a wink. "So you cool with coming over?"

"Sure thing. Mister Terrific," Plastic Man stated, his earpiece picking it up, "can you beam me and Ralph up? We need to get to Buffalo."

"Sure thing," the reply quickly came. "Hold onto your butts."

And under a minute later, they went from Kansas City to Buffalo. God, Plastic Man considered, I sure do love teleportation.

"Nemesis can't make it, and Question refuses to come out of his room," Atom-Smasher told the small group of heroes. Doctor Light looked particularly disheartened, and so he added, "In his defense, he did seem to think about it for a few seconds." He hesitated for a few seconds, then asked, "Anyone know what aglets are? He was talking about how they were sinister or something."

"I have zero idea what aglets are, Atom-Smasher," Doctor Mid-Nite spoke, "but it's the Question - I really wouldn't be concerned."

"Was Waverider going to be able to make it," Doctor Light asked. "I believe he is still here."

"Courtney was going to ask him," Atom-Smasher replied. "Personally, the few times I've spoken to him, he doesn't really seem concerned with hanging out. I mean, he's a nice enough guy, but I don't know. Doesn't like talking or something."

"The guy has amnesia, I think," Aztek stated. "Partial, I'm guessing. He confided in me that he was going through that, and it's sorta one of those things you need to try and tackle alone. He literally doesn't remember a good half of his life."

"Ouch, that blows," Doctor Mid-Night said. Rocket Red nodded from the corner of the room, where he was decorating a Christmas tree.

Aztek nodded. "Yeah, the guy doesn't drink anyways, so the fun he'd have might be limited."

Cynthia walked into the room carrying a rather large bag of Chinese food. "The choices were limited tonight, guys."

"Tell me about it," Atom-Smasher mused. Doctor Mid-Nite stifled a chuckle at that remark.

"Here, let me help," Aztek replied, and Cynthia shifted the bag to him. "If you could clear off a spot in the middle of the table, that'd be great."

Cynthia glanced to the table, and a pronounced eye-roll followed. "Okay, Hangar 1 I can sorta understand, but Jameson Irish whiskey? McDowell's No. 1 Celebration? You guys are expecting to drink this all tonight?"

She moved some of these bottles to the side, and Aztek placed the Chinese food down.

"Well, I think the plan was to have a drinking competition," Aztek replied, glancing at the others in the room. "Who was in, Atom-Smasher, me, Rocket Red, and who?"

"Me," Doctor Light replied quietly, blushing at the look of betrayal Cynthia was sending her. "I'm uptight 364 days of the year. I think on one night I can unravel."

"Da, but I can drink all three of you under the chair," Rocket Red stated, opening the container of beef and broccoli.

"You don't really care about perpetuating stereotypes, do you," Atom-Smasher replied, patting him on the back. "By the way, if you're going to get smashed, please take the suit off. I don't want you blowing off our heads with missiles or anything."

Nodding, he began walking to the door. "I'll be back in a few."

Giving the door he just exited a side-look, Doctor Light said, "You know, if we poison the vodka, we could take him out early."

Aztek shook his head and gave an exaggerated sigh. "Sure, we could, but that'd make my victory too easy."

"Anyhow," Doctor Mid-Nite spoke up, more to Cynthia, who was eying Aztek with disbelief, than anyone else, "while these imbeciles are getting drunk, what are we going to do?"

"Gossip about the League. Tell thrilling stories of past missions. That type of thing," Cynthia replied with a slight shrug.

"Oh, that reminds me," Aztek stated excitedly, "you guys here about Captain Atom and Green Arrow?"

The whole of the room broke out in laughter - the answer clearly a resonating affirmative.

"I can't believe Arrow had the balls to do that," Cynthia said through her giggles. "Did the senior members talk to him at all over that stunt?"

Atom-Smasher shrugged. "Well, he was within his rights. It doesn't show great solidarity within the League, though."

"Yeah, but," Doctor Light began, but was cut off by Mid-Nite.

"I think we can all understand where Arrow was coming from. Was it a smart move? Maybe not in terms of optics, but Al's right. It was Arrow's decision, and he had every right to make that decision."

"If he does get kicked from the League, I'd be pissed," Aztek said with a shake of the head.

"I'm sure it won't come to that," Doctor Light replied. "But we have to be sure that type of thing doesn't happen again."

"You know, as much as some might blame Arrow, Captain Atom wasn't innocent either," Cynthia said. "Did he get approval from the senior members to do that? I don't think so."

"Any other activities planned for tonight," Doctor Mid-Nite asked. "Movies, music?"

"Well," Stargirl brightly said, sauntering into the room holding CD's, "I've got music."

"Indeed, Courtney," Atom-Smasher replied, "but what you don't have is Waverider or your step-dad."

The young girl shrugged. "Pat was happy you invited us, but hit the sack early. He trusts you guys to make sure I stay out of trouble and don't do anything I shouldn't." Cynthia gave Aztek a hard look at that, but whether Aztek was ignoring looking in her direction purposely or coincidentally, she didn't know. "Waverider was gratified, but he doesn't think this type of thing is his scene."

"Aw, well, you can't win them all," Cynthia replied.

"Anyways, for music," Stargirl replied, looking down at the CD's in her hand, "I've got Avril Lavigne's Let Go, Foo Fighters' One by One, My Chemical Romance's I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love, Coldplay's A Rush of Blood to the Head, and Bright Eye's Lifted." She didn't notice the looks she was getting from most of the members. Or Doctor Light mouthing 'My Chemical Romance?' to Mid-Nite, who only shook his head with a smile.

"Huh," Atom-Smasher commented, appearing rather amused. "I think out of those, I'll have to pick these." He pulled two CD's out of his pocket. "Trans-Siberian Orchestra's two albums. It's Christmas, Courtney. Coldplay? Foo Fighters? That's not the Christmas spirit."

"You're Jewish, Al, what the hell do you know about the Christmas spirit," Aztek asked. Cynthia made to punch him for at least the third time that night, but he dodged her.

"Hey kids, let's play nice," Rocket Red called out, walking through the door, completely out of his robotic suit. "Now Aztek, where did you put the vodka? Let's get this party started."

"The drinks and mixers are on that table. Boxed wine in the fridge. Chinese food near the whiskey." Rocket Red shook his head at the mention of mixers, but otherwise remained silent.

"And the stereo," Atom-Smasher asked, nodded when he was told it too was one the table, as he was patting a slightly dispirited Courtney on the back, and in a lower voice, spoke to her. "You can play your stuff when we're drunk, and I don't think that'd take a hell of a while."

"Thanks, Al. Oh, and thanks for the suggestion on what to get Pat. He loved it."

"Of course he did. Because Christmas is about family and friends. Remember that, Courtney. Not your religion, not your beliefs. It's about loved ones. And that's the only thing that matters. Glad he liked the present."

She gave him a light, awkward hug, given the size discrepancy. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

And as Rocket Red was pouring his first shot of vodka, as Doctor Mid-Nite and Aztek were arguing over whether hockey or football was a better sport, as Atom-Smasher was putting the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's Christmas Eve and Other Stories into the stereo, as Pat Dugan was looking at the last picture taken of him and his late wife, as Mr. Terrific was studying the monitors, as Question was obsessively reading a classified report from the desk of Senator Bob Graham reciting "The Path That Leads to Nowhere", Ralph Dibny, his wife, and Plastic Man were consuming a Christmas ham to Duke Ellington's Nutcracker Suite, beguiling her with their performance they gave earlier in Kansas, and the joy the children felt.

For the Justice League, this Christmas night, all was well.

"An angel came down

One night to the Earth

A mission from God

To find out the worth

Of everything that

His children had done

Since that winter night

The birth of His son"