Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of Disney and are only used for fan related purposes. The premise of the story is based on O'Henry's short story, "The Gift of the Magi"; the description of Christmas at the Lodging House was from LD's website, No. 9 on Duane Street.

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O'Malley's on 12th

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Christmas Day on Duane Street began as it always did. Kloppman woke up the boys, swapping his hollers of "Sell the papes" with a more festive cry of "Merry Christmas, boys!" and offering a small peppermint candy to each boy who hopped out of bed to begin the festivities. For one day out of the whole year, these children could be what they actually were: children.

The lobby had been decorated, as had the school room in the back of the House. Great big evergreens covered the room and many of the young boys followed the old supervisor into the room to be told the story of Ebenezer Scrooge again this year. A few of the older boys—the one's who thought themselves too old for Christmas stories and Christmas wishes—offered a hand to the ladies (and some of their daughters) of the Children's Aid Society. Along with the Lodging House cooks, the women and their young helpers prepared the Christmas dinner.

The feast was served at three o'clock that year so that all of the young lodgers would have a fine and nourishing meal for the holiday. Set on long dinner tables covered in white linen, Jack felt that the CAS biddies had outdone themselves this year. There was turkey and boiled ham, potatoes, turnips and other foods of that sort, plus three different sorts of pie. He ate more than he should've and even engaged in a little horseplay as he finally got Racetrack Higgins back for breaking his old hat by slipping a slice of apple pie underneath his seat before the short Irish boy sat down right on it.

Even the weather seemed to be in the Christmas spirit. The snow had continued to fall right through Christmas morning, guaranteeing that New York would see a White Christmas, but the winds had died down considerably. Tiny flakes dotted the landscape and the cold seemed to be taking a holiday; it was nowhere near as chilly as it had been in previous days.

Happy and satisfied at the end of the Christmas feast, Jack decided to take his leave of the Lodging House before Racetrack came up with another one of his ingenious plots of revenge. Besides, it was sure to be as hectic over at the Bottle Alley Home for Girls; if he was lucky—and luck did seem to be on his side that day—he would be able to find Stress and give her her Christmas present without Mrs. Cook (or Rae, for that matter) catching him there.

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Mush Meyers had the distinct feeling that he was forgetting something. So consumed by the Christmas festivities, there was only a faint nagging at the back of his mind that told him that there was something he was supposed to have done.

It couldn't have been giving his hard-earned present to Kid Blink, he was sure of that. He'd sought out the patch-wearing newsie earlier that morning, after Kloppman finished telling "A Christmas Carol" but before the Christmas feast had begun, and given the painstakingly wrapped gift to his friend. Blink had been so pleased at the gesture that he'd flung off his old, dusty hat and promptly placed the new cap right onto his fair head.

But if not that, then what? His belly full from three helpings of apple pie with sweat cream, Mush sat at the dinner table and thought about it. He thought it might have something to do with Christmas; why else would he feel as if it was something that had to be done that day?

He didn't know but his mood was too cheery to be upset by something he couldn't remember. He was just so glad that Blink had liked the gift he had bought him from O'Malley's—

O'Malleys! The presents!

Sitting straight up, Mush lost that dreamy gaze in his eye as he searched out Jack. There were so many boys still sitting at the dinner table but he was pretty certain that he didn't see Jack at all. He vaguely remembered an earlier commotion down at one end of the table—something about Race wasting a piece of pie by sitting in it—and thought he might've seen Jack leaving the dining room shortly after that.

Now that his mind was a little clearer, and he knew what it was that he was supposed to do, Mush was focused. He thought he knew Jack well enough by now, and something Mr. Kringle had mentioned gave him an idea. If Jack had really gone all the way over to O'Malley's to buy Stress a present for Christmas, then he had to go and give it to the girl, didn't he? It made enough sense to him.

Never mind, of course, the fact that Mush still had the two boxes with him…

Without another word—though, maybe, he did stop for one more bite of pie—Mush climbed up from the dining table and hurried back up to the bunkroom. He'd meant to give the box to Jack on Christmas Eve but the older boy hadn't been there when he came back from the shop; careful not to lose it, or let it get nicked, Mush stowed it underneath his bottom bunk and it was from there he retrieved it. A quick look around the bunkroom told him that Jack hadn't retreated upstairs after he'd finished eating, either.

His best bet, Mush decided, would be for him to take the trip over to Bottle Alley. Even if Jack wasn't there, at least Stress would be. And he still had her gift to deliver, too.

--

On the trip from Duane Street to Bottle Alley Jack came up with no less than three fool-proof ways to sneak into Bottle Alley. One of them, unfortunately, required an accomplice on the rooftop and a long length of rope, neither which he currently had; he made sure to file that one away for future use.

However, as he made his way down the street that led to the Girls' Home, Jack found that he didn't need any of his plans. The girl he wanted to meet was already waiting for him; he could tell it was her from the way she was aimlessly playing with the hem of her skirt and alternately pulling at a stray curl that had escaped from her clip.

She heard his approach, the crunching of his boots against the icy snow, and lifted her head and her right hand in greeting. Her left hand, he saw, was holding tight to a small package with a red ribbon tied around it. He was curious as to what it could be—who it could be for. When she held the gift out to him, smiling shyly up at him, he knew.

"Oh, Stress, ya didn't have to get me nothin'."

"I know. But I wanted to."

"Thanks," he muttered, a little uncomfortable at the way she was looking at him. Her golden eyes were bright and he wondered if he had seen such a look in her eyes before. Pushing that thought to the side, he added, "I, uh, I got somethin' for ya, too."

"Did you really, Jack?"

The way her voice seemed to get high like that brought a touch of color to Jack's cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold. "Yeah. Here."

He hadn't put it in a box like she had, or placed a bow around it. Instead, using one sheet of a newspaper he'd found stuffed under his pillow, he wrapped the necklace as best he could. Feeling a bit foolish, turning his head away so that he wouldn't see her reaction, he waited to hear what she would have to say.

When a minute or so had passed and Stress still hadn't said a word, he asked, "Do ya… do ya like it?"

"I do," she said quietly, letting the tin necklace curve to the shape of her cupped palm. It wasn't anything like her old necklace, the old silver chain she'd traded away, but it was nice in its own way. It wouldn't hold the memory of her childhood or the touch of her Mama's skin, but it was special enough. It was special because Jack had given it to her.

He wasn't too sure that he believed her. It wasn't like Stress to whisper in such a way. It made him uneasy and, taking care not to meet her golden gaze, he tried to explain, "Ya said that your old one got broke so I thought that this could be a new one. I mean, until the other one gets fixed, right?"

She gave her head a little shake, chasing the ghosts away; there wasn't another one at all that could get fixed. Forcing herself to forget the past, it didn't take much for her to bring a true grin to her face. "Thank you, Jack. It's beautiful," she told him honestly, folding her right hand around the necklace. She didn't stop to put it on, though. Instead, she poked him in the side with her elbow. "Your turn."

He'd remembered the gift that he held in his hand but, after giving Stress the necklace, he wanted to wait until she'd opened her present before he opened his. Selfish as he could be, he felt that, if she liked her gift, that was all he needed.

Then again, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been given a gift…

Unwrapping the small box hastily, Jack flung the lid off and lifted the box up so that he could see what she'd placed inside. The plaited leather cord that laid there was enough to wipe the look of anticipation right off of his face. He didn't even need to hear what she said next to know what the gift was—and, while it was thoughtful, it was no longer necessary.

"Where's your hat, Jack? I want to see if the cord's a right fit."

Jack knew exactly where the hat was—and he had no idea how he was going to explain to Stress that he'd given it to the old man at O'Malley's in exchange for her tin necklace.

But, as it turned out, he didn't have to explain anything at all. Just as he was trying his best to come up with a believable lie, he heard his name being called out. And, like the other day, when he'd been standing right at the same place, he saw Mush approaching him. This time, though, Mush was calling for Stress, too, and he was running.

Grateful for the interruption, Jack turned away from Stress's questioning gaze so that he was facing Mush. "Mush? Whatcha doin' here? I thought you was still eatin' at the feast."

"I was, Jack, but then I remembered." Slightly out of breath from his run, Mush held the two boxes out. The larger of the two he handed to Jack; the smaller he tossed to a bewildered Stress. "I stopped at O'Malley's last night to get Blink's present and Mr. Kringle asked me to bring those to you two."

There was a tag on each of the boxes. Shrugging his shoulders, wondering why the old man had given something to Mush that was for him, Jack used the gas lamp to make out the name on his gift. Written in a fancy script, much like the lettering on O'Malley's sign, was the name: Francis.

He didn't open the box straight away. For a second or two, Jack stopped breathing. He knew the name—of course he knew the name—but the question was: How did that man know the name?

Stress, it seemed, had the same question. She was frowning as she looked down at the small box in her hand. "Mush, why does this say 'Jessa' on it?"

Mush's big, dark eyes widened in surprise. "Does it?" he asked. "I coulda sworn it said 'Stress' when Mr. Kringle gave it to me."

Jack knew that Jessa was her Christian name, and he also knew how much she hated being reminded of it. In an attempt to take her mind off of that—and to make sure that she didn't get curious enough that she glanced at his own name tag—he hurriedly said, "Well, what didja get?"

It was just the right question for him to ask. As if in a daze, Stress opened the box with hesitant fingers. Her mouth dropped open as she, using the crook of her finger, looped a dainty, tarnish-free silver chain and lifted it up. It was easy for all three of them to see that the ends had been mended. "It's my necklace. My necklace, Jack, it's been fixed!"

But Jack was already opening his own box. He didn't know what to expect, or perhaps he did, because he'd barely tossed the second box top to the snowy ground before he'd taken his cowboy hat out of the box and returned it to its faithful place atop his head. The cord that draped below his chin was the twin to the cord that Stress had given him.

He couldn't believe it but seeing was believing. He saw the necklace as Stress placed it around her neck, adding the tin necklace as well; he saw the cord that was swaying in the faint winter breeze.

Slowly, he turned on Mush. Mush was the only one who didn't seem surprised at all.

"Mush, who was it who gave you these again?"

And, smiling so wide that it threatened to split his face, Mush just said, "I told ya O'Malley's was a great place, didn't I?"

--

Mr. Kris Kringle yawned as he took one last look around O'Malley's. It had been a very busy night and he was nothing short of exhausted but his lease on the small shop ended on the day after Christmas—he had to come along and finish off another season before getting started on the next year. The toys that hadn't, for some reason or another, been gifted had to be returned to his workroom; all traces of a successful season had to be erased before he could go back home.

The shop was empty before he knew it. The shelves had been tucked away, the counter hidden as if by magic. Nothing was left inside, except for the man himself, and he couldn't help but feel that same, familiar sense of sadness. Christmas was over, at least from where he stood, and it would be quite some time until he returned to this small shack. He would miss it.

But then, as if there was something about him that wouldn't let any sort of sadness linger, he called forth the smiling face of Mush Meyers, the calculating look in Jack Kelly's eyes and the determined jut of Stress Rhian's chin. Them, like countless others before them, had discovered the shop—and, as such, had each recovered the spirit of Christmas.

And in the end, the girl was right. It was all worth it.

"Merry Christmas," Mr. Kringle said, speaking to no one in particular but to anyone and everyone. And then, with a small, "Ho, ho, ho," under his breath that still managed to make his giant belly jiggle and wiggle uncontrollably, he closed his bright, blue eyes, placed one of his long, thick fingers alongside the edge of his bulbous, red nose and—

—and O'Malley's on 12th just faded away for another year.

Author's Note: And that's that. I hope that anyone who stopped by and read this enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! A little Christmas fluff never hurt anyone, right? Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everybody!

-- stress, 12.12.08