Notes: No Apologies for this one. It is what it is.
Disclaimers: The Holby crew aren't mine. The nativity likewise. The combination of the two however, is.
As Connie Beauchamp would later tell people, she was in her office working on a departmental budget forecast when the bright light appeared. This in itself wasn't particularly unusual – departmental budget forecasting was the third most frequent activity she partook in, in her office, after bugging Elliot and having sex with good looking men. The bright light however was something else entirely. She'd never seen anything quite like it before, and even more bizarrely after a few seconds Chrissie Williams stepped out of it.
Modeling fairy wings.
And a halo.
Connie rubbed her eyes, wracking her brains to try and remember if she'd sanctioned any kind fancy dress day in the department, but, to the best of her knowledge she hadn't. Which actually was fine by her, because quite frankly, any excuse to haul Chrissie over the coals was no bad thing in her book.
"What are you doing?" she asked icily.
"I'm the Archangel Chrissie." Chrissie said pirouetting around on white satin ballet shoes, to give Connie a proper look at her utterly ridiculous, and, it's worth pointing out, utterly inappropriate outfit, "And I'm here to tell you that you're going to have a baby,"
Connie started to laugh, "Tell me something I don't know. Do you not think the tender breasts, morning vomiting and hormone related emotional episodes weren't enough of a clue?"
Archangel Chrissie glared at Connie, but all the same refused to be put off of her script, "Your baby will be the Son of God, and you shall call him Jesus. Which", she added, as a sneaky aside so only Connie could hear, "I should point out is really quite pretentious."
"God?" By this point, Connie was laughing so hard she was almost choking on the Gingerbread Latte she'd purchased from Starbucks on the way into work that morning. "As far as I'm aware the only person ever to refer to Mr Strachan in such a way is Mr Strachan himself, and as for 'Jesus'" she laughed slightly harder and Gingerbread Latte flew out of her nose, "not a chance. I have a whole host of names lined up and that isn't one of them. Do you like the name Jason? What about Phina?"
Connie, for the record, had been covertly watching I'm A Celebrity since the new series had started the week before and was getting rather obsessive about it.
Archangel Chrissie looked up from trying to rub the afore mentioned Ginger Latte off of her fairywings, "Look, don't shoot the messenger – I'm just doing what I was told."
"Told? By whom?" Connie enquired.
"Her." Archangel Chrissie pointed to one corner of the office where Donna Jackson was stood on a wooden staging block with a pile of cue cards in her hand and tinsel trimming her nurses uniform. "She's the narrator." She added, incase, by some miracle, Connie had missed the point completely.
As Archangel Chrissie drew attention to her Donna suddenly seemed to come to life, and began to read from her top cue card.
"So then, having delivered her message the Archangle,"
"Angel." Archangel Chrissie said, glaring at her nastily, "Archangel, not Archangle. I'm not a maths thing."
Donna shot an apologetic look at the very unfriendly Angel, "Sorry." She glanced back down at her cue card, "So then, having delivered her message, the Archangel disappeared as suddenly as she had arrived." At which, Chrissie headed back in the direction of the door and the ward beyond.
"Hang on." Connie interrupted, getting to her feet, deciding that if she was going to be thrust into some weird and wonderful nativity play she was going to at the very least make sure it was historically accurate. She moved across the office and on reaching Chrissie's side adjusted her halo so it was slightly to one side.
Archangel Chrissie pulled a face, "You made my halo slip."
Connie shook her head, a triumphant grin on her face, "No dear. You did that when you slept with my husband."