"No! Please!" Even's voice sounded shrill and frightened in the darkness, but he was beyond caring. The window before him had suddenly gone dark, taking with it the image of Lumaria and his family; of young Lu, wracked with coughs, shivering in the meager shelter of the house…
"Please!" Even begged, feeling the tightness in his throat. "Please, Lexaeus, come back! You must tell me what will happen to young Lu!"
A sudden puff of smoke into his face made Even cough and retch in disgust. It smelled like the worst, vilest brand of tobacco cigars, the cheap kind made from low-grade tobacco rolled in poor-quality paper.
Even waved the smoke away from his face, only to discover that it was everywhere now, surrounding him on all sides, blanketing everything in a gray smog. Furthermore, glancing down, he noticed frozen grass and dirt underfoot. He was no longer in the lane.
Even looked around, spotting a small, rectangular rock rising from the ground a few feet away.
That's oddly uniform for just a random boulder, he thought, feeling his chest constricting as he approached the object. Trembling, he bent down to inspect it, but it was too dark and foggy for him to get a proper look.
All of a sudden, a bright red light flared behind him, and Even gasped as he recognized the object for what it was: a headstone.
He was in the cemetery.
Slowly, Even turned around to face the source of the light. A lone hooded figure in a simple black coat stood behind him, a torch burning in the figure's left hand. The newcomer's entire face was in shadow, but there was something menacing about him that sent shivers all down Even's spine.
"A—are you," he began, pausing to swallow. "Are you the… the spirit of Christmas Future?"
Slowly, the black-clad figure nodded.
Even gulped, his throat feeling dry and scratchy as sand.
"Please," he said, feeling extremely vulnerable. "Please, spirit… what will happen to young Lu?"
The figure regarded him silently for a moment; then, suddenly, the smoke around them thinned, and Even could see across the cemetery. A small procession of people, one of them bearing a lit candle, was climbing the forlorn hill just to the side of where Even and the spirit stood. Even's throat sealed tightly as he recognized the faces of Lumaria, Arlene, and their two other children.
Slowly, Arlene bent down and placed the candle on the ground, beside a small, white grave marker that stood near the top of the hill. She stood back, tears glittering in her cocoa-brown eyes, her pale hand pressed to her mouth.
Lumaria bent his own knee, placing something else beside the grave, to lean up against it. With a start, Even realized it was young Lu's tree-branch cane.
So it was true. The boy was dead.
Without even meaning for it to happen, Even felt the warm trace of a tear as it slid down his cheek, dripping silently onto the barren ground below.
On the hilltop, Lumaria stood back up, tears coming to his own eyes. He wrapped comforting arms around Arlene and the children, and together, they turned and began walking back down the hill, lost in the mist before they reached the bottom.
"No," Even choked, his voice barely audible in the foggy gloom. "No, please!"
He turned a pleading, beseeching eye on the spirit, who was still watching him indifferently.
"Please, spirit," he begged. "Tell me this can be prevented. Please tell me there is yet time to change the course of these events…"
A sudden burst of raucous laughter made Even look up, his throat constricting once more in fear.
Off to the other side, two raggedly-dressed, dirty men stood at the side of an open grave, gazing down at whatever was in it.
"Never seen a funeral like this'n," the first man, a tall and lanky sort with greasy black hair, remarked casually.
His companion, a squat, stubby man who was missing several teeth, cackled wheezily. "Aye, that's true. No mourners, no friends to pass him on—just the two 'f us, an' I reckon that don't count for much where he's going."
The taller man snickered, and then sighed, wiping his brow. "'Ey, let's rest a tick afore we fill 'er in," he said.
The shorter one nodded his agreement, spitting a glutinous wad of something into the open grave. "Aye, mate. After all, he ain't going nowhere."
The two men marched away, snickering and chortling.
Slowly, Even approached the open grave, peering down into it. Faintly, at the bottom, he caught a glimpse of the plain wooden casket.
Even turned a fearful, quivering eye on the spirit, who was still watching him, torch held steadily in his left hand.
"P—please, spirit," Even said quietly, turning back to the deep hole. "Whose… whose lonely grave… is this?"
The spirit looked at him silently a moment more, then slowly reached up with his left hand, pushing back his hood. Even's eyes went wide with horror, and his knees felt on the verge of giving out.
The face staring back at him was Lumaria's.
The pink-haired young man regarded his master with contempt, tossing the torch into the grave. As Even watched, the wooden casket below slowly caught fire, the flames licking greedily at the pine box.
Then, to Even's everlasting terror, Lumaria extended his right hand outward. In his grasp appeared a long, wickedly curved, deadly sharp scythe, its blade glittering in the light from the fire within the grave. Lumaria pointed the blade straight at Even's heart, advancing forward, pushing Even back to the very edge of the grave. Even felt himself teetering on the brink, and he glanced over, needing, in that very moment, to know within whose grave he himself would be resigned to death.
The firelight flared brightly upon the headstone inscribed with these words:
R.I.P.- Even Hisame.
"Why, this grave is yours, my dear master," Lumaria told him softly, the first words the spirit had spoken since arriving at Even's side.
The scythe shot forward, and Even stepped back, over the lip of the grave. He felt himself falling, staring back up as he plummeted, as though the entire world were moving in slow motion.
"You're the richest man in the cemetery!" Lumaria called after him, laughing wildly as Even fell the last few feet to his demise.
The doomed man closed his eyes, hoping, praying that in the last few seconds of his existence, he could somehow scrape up enough repentance for all the horrible things he had done.
He only came up with one thought:
I'm sorry, Lu.
Hitting the coffin hurt less than Even had expected it would. There was no jarring snap of bones, no feeling of burning as the fire began licking at his nightshirt. It felt, to Even, more like falling out of bed than anything else.
At least the spirits allowed me a peaceful end, he thought despairingly. It's more than I deserve after what I've turned out to be.
The seconds ticked past, turning into minutes as Even waited to fade away, to lose consciousness and enter the darkness of oblivion. The sensation of solid wood under him remained, however, and the darkness behind his eyelids steadily brightened to grey, patched with red and brown. As he realized that he was not dead, nor did he seem to be in the vicinity of dying, he noticed other details too that had before escaped his detection; he could feel some sort of soft cloth partly covering his body, and he could hear, though slightly muted, the sounds of bells chiming and people calling to each other.
Slowly, Even opened his eyes. He was lying on the wooden floor of his own bedroom, the duvet twisted and dragged to the floor with him. Light flooded in through the somehow-repaired window, and the sounds he heard were coming from beyond the glass.
Even threw the mussed bedcovers away from himself, jumped up, and dashed to the window, throwing it open wide. The crisp, shocking cold air of winter assaulted him instantly, accompanied by a flurry of bright white, icy snowflakes that settled in his hair and on his nightshirt. Below him, the streets were crowded with pedestrians and carriages, all happily calling to one another and creating a cheerful backdrop against which the bells finished chiming out the hour, nine A.M.
It was Christmas morning.
Even grinned, a broad smile that nearly split his face in two. He had been given mercy; a second chance to make things right. He did not know how, or why, but he intended to make all the best use of it.
"It's Christmas morning!" he exclaimed to the world. "I haven't missed it, after all! The spirits have allowed me a second chance!"
Quickly, a plan began formulating in his mind. He knew exactly what he would do on this first, brightest of days, a new beginning. Gone was the miserly old Even Hisame; in his place stood a new man, and what better day to make a start than Christmas morning?
Even ran to the closet and pulled out his overcoat, shoving his arms through the sleeves hurriedly, not bothering to remove his nightshirt or slippers. All the while, his list of objectives ran through his mind, repeating itself over and over.
"Oh, so much to do!" he said, grabbing his top hat and shoving it on over his nightcap, his long blond hair still in messy tangles around his shoulders. In another instant, he was out the door. He had made it halfway down the stairs when he realized what he was doing, turned around, and marched right back up again, throwing the bedroom door open wide.
"I can't go out like this!" The statement seemed almost astonished as it flew from his mouth. Quickly, he looked around, grabbed a scarf from the bureau and his cane from its stand, and straightened the collar of his overcoat.
"There," he announced. Then he was out the door again and flying down the stairs.
Messrs. Tarmidge and Madigan were men of reputable rank and great charity. Well-known throughout their small town for their willingness to beg alms for the poor, even when they themselves had no need for the money and no real motive for their generosity, the two men prided themselves on their ability to turn anyone, even the sourest, most miserly old bachelor or old maid, into a giving philanthropist with just one shake of their collector's tin.
Following their failure with Hisame, the two men quietly began discussing the possibility that perhaps some people simply had no goodness in their hearts whatsoever. Tarmidge blamed Even's own personal greed and lust for gold; Madigan, a slightly softer and more forgiving soul, speculated that some aspect of Even's childhood had caused his metamorphosis into this most miserable of misers. Whatever the source, both men agreed heartily that Even Hisame was a lost cause. No amount of light or goodness could touch the monster of greed whose nest was in the treasure-master's heart.
This was why when, on Christmas morning, Even Hisame himself emerged from his massive brick residence dressed only in a black overcoat over a pale blue nightshirt, sporting bedroom slippers, a top hat over a nightcap, and a tangled mess of bedhead, and proceeded to slide down the front doorstep stair railing, both Tarmidge and Madigan stared in wide-eyed befuddlement, noting the huge smile on the blond man's face and the jaunty, open way with which he carried himself, as if it were perfectly normal for people to emerge into the snowy street dressed in barely more than their knickers.
"He's finally lost it all, Mister Madigan," Tarmidge whispered to his compatriot as Even approached, grinning broadly at the both of them.
Madigan elbowed the other man with a reproving look, and then turned to the newcomer. "Good morning, Master Even," he greeted politely.
"Ah, good morning, sirs!" Even exclaimed brightly. "And a very Merry Christmas to you!"
Both men's eyebrows shot up simultaneously. Just what was going on here?
"Say, your pockets are looking a little empty," Even remarked with a frown.
Tarmidge shot a glare at the treasure-master. Was this some kind of joke? Some cruel dig at them for failing to turn Even to generosity?
Even's expression brightened suddenly, and he looked like an idea had just hit him. "I know what we shall do!" he cried. He opened up his overcoat, revealing an array of deep, wide pockets. As both Tarmidge and Madigan watched, spellbound, Even pulled a brown sack from one of the pockets and tossed it into Madigan's collecting cup. It made a heavy clunk as it landed in the tin vessel.
Curiously, Madigan untied the mouth of the bag, gasping when it fell back to reveal—
"—one hundred munny!" Even said brightly, with a huge smile.
"One hundred munny?" gasped Tarmidge, staring at Even with a thunderstruck expression.
The blond man tapped his chin, as if thinking. "Ah, you're right. It's not enough. Here." He pulled two more bags from his pockets, tossing them at the feet of Tarmidge. "Five hundred munny!"
"Oh, no, Master Even, it's—" Tarmidge began, holding up a hand.
"Still not enough!" Even shouted. He pulled a final, humongous bag from his pockets, dropping it before Madigan. "There. One thousand munny, and not a single coin more!"
"Oh, thank you, Master Even!" Madigan exclaimed, a smile of delight spreading across his features.
"My pleasure, and a Merry Christmas!" Even called, veritably dancing away across the cobbles. Tarmidge and Madigan watched him go, astonished expressions painted across their features. Tarmidge turned to Madigan, sighing.
"I take it back, Mister Madigan. He's found everything he lost."
Even waltzed down the street in a haze of excitement, loudly wishing a Merry Christmas to every person he passed. Most of them returned the greeting with odd looks or raised eyebrows, but Even did not care. He had a plan. He knew where he was going, and he'd sooner take another airborne joyride with the spirits than pause for a few strange expressions.
The toy shop owner looked absolutely thunderstruck when Even marched in through the cheerfully painted red door and demanded to see all of the best toys that the man had to offer. He was even more flabbergasted, if possible, when Even pulled out a sack of coins, bought every toy he was shown, and told the other man to keep the change.
"And a very Merry Christmas to you!" Even shouted over his shoulder.
The toy shop owner could only nod and stare.
Even's progress was slower now that he had the huge bundle over his back, but his face was no less cheerful and his greetings no less enthusiastic. If possible, he seemed even more filled with merriment than before.
As Even stepped out into one of the main avenues, he barely missed being impacted by a carriage coming full-tilt right for him. The horse snorted loudly and swerved, causing the carriage's wheels to rock dangerously as it skidded to the side. From within, a loud voice called, "What's going on?"
Even stopped to look up, waving gaily as a brightly-dressed young man with red hair stood up from the carriage driver's seat, peering down into the road.
"Good morning, nephew!" he called cheerfully.
Lea's eyes widened in shock as he caught sight of his uncle standing in the street. "Uncle Even?" he asked incredulously. "Is that… you?"
"Who else would it be, you silly?" Even laughed. "Still having that Christmas feast?"
Lea looked stunned for a moment, and then shook it off, smiling brightly. "Of course we are!"
"Excellent! I'll see you at dinnertime!"
Lea grinned broadly. "You mean you are coming?"
"Certainly! You know I can't resist spiced coffee with caramel!" Even exclaimed. "I'll be over promptly at two; keep it warm for me!"
Lea waved as his uncle started off down the road again, his smile nearly as bright as the steadily rising winter sun.
"I will, Uncle Even!" he called. "Merry Christmas!"
Twenty minutes after leaving Lea at the broad avenue, Even finally reached his destination: a small, rutted lane pocked with broken cobbles and studded with sharp pieces of rock. He had made several more stops along the way, and now his large bundle was filled nearly to the bursting point with all the purchases he had made.
Even stood outside the wooden doorstep of the last house in the lane, trying to rid his face of the irrepressible smile. He had to make this convincing to get the full effect.
Slowly, with great effort, he banished the smile from his face, assuming his usual bored, disaffected expression. With this done, although only tenuously maintained, Even raised his free hand and knocked hard on the shabby door; once, twice, then thrice.
After a few seconds, the door opened wide. Lumaria stood just within, his pale face twisted with confusion which quickly turned to dread when he saw who his visitor was.
The change in Lumaria's expression made Even's gut wrench. How horribly he had treated this poor young man…
But no. Now, that was all going to change.
Even cleared his throat, keeping his emotionless expression steady and waiting for Lumaria to speak.
He did. "Good morning, Master Even," the pink-haired young man greeted, his voice soft and trembling in the narrow closeness of the lane. "Merry Christmas—"
"Christmas, bah," Even spat, nearly wincing at the sound of his own voice. Had he really sounded like that for so long?
"I've another bundle for you," he announced to Lumaria, moving through the door without an invitation. The room beyond was dimly lit by the hearth fire, the shadows flickering upon the dingy walls. Arlene sat in a chair by the fire, sewing a patch onto the knee of a tiny pair of trousers. The three children sat huddled together at her feet, their arms around each other in an attempt to keep warm. Even's heart lurched at the sight of them, relief flooding through him as he saw the sheet-white face of young Lu between the arms of his brother and sister.
"But… but sir, it's Christmas day!" Lumaria protested quietly, shutting the door and turning to face his master, a hopeless expression on his face.
"Christmas day!" Even exclaimed. "I've had enough of this Christmas business!" He dropped his bundle on the floor beside the fire. The lip fell open slightly, just enough for one of the topmost toys to slip out and onto the floor; a brown, furry teddy bear, its button eyes sparkling brightly. Quickly, Even bent down to retrieve it before the children noticed.
"But Master Even—" Lumaria began, the despair veritably oozing from his tone.
Even stuffed the teddy bear quickly back into the sack, moving over to Lumaria and cutting him off loudly. "And no more of this half-day off nonsense, either!"
Lumaria's eyes widened, and his mouth opened, but no sound came out. Even continued, working hard to maintain his glare, which he could sense was on the verge of a collapse.
"You have left me with no choice," he continued, feeling his voice starting to break with laughter, "but to give—to give you—"
"Toys!" came an exclamation from behind. Turning, Even saw that young Lu had crawled his way over to the bundle and pulled it open, spilling its contents onto the floor. Sighing, his secret revealed, Even dropped his façade, smiling.
"Yes, toys," he said, then realized whom he was still addressing. "No, no, no!" he corrected quickly, holding up his hands, then just as quickly dropping them onto Lumaria's shoulders and looking the rosette young man square in the face.
"I'm giving you a vacation and a raise," he said finally, smiling. "And I'm making you my business partner."
Lumaria stared uncomprehendingly into his master's face, his mouth formed into a perfect O of shock. Finally, he managed, "P—partner?"
Even nodded, wrapping an arm around Lumaria's thin shoulders gently. In her chair, Arlene was staring at him too, her fingers pressed tightly to her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes as she realized what was happening.
"Merry Christmas, Lumaria," Even said softly, smiling at the young man as he fought to control the many emotions overpowering him at once.
Suddenly, Even felt a small tug on the hem of his nightshirt. Looking down, he saw young Lu at his feet, smiling up at the taller figure with all of the knowing and yet innocent tenderness of a child. Gently, Even leaned down and scooped the boy into his arms, cradling the twisted leg carefully so as not to cause the child pain.
"Merry Christmas, Lu," he told the boy with a sincere, tender smile.
Lu wrapped his thin arms around Even's neck, hugging the older man tightly. "And God bless us, every one," he said into Even's ear.
This time, Even's tears flowed freely.
End
Okay, just wanted to clarify for you guys: I know I've been using the Nobodies as the spirits, but then the final spirit looked like Lumaria. You guys go 'Marluxia? But he's not a Nobody yet in your story! What are you doing to our brains, Thex?'
The final spirit is kind of an open-interpretation thing. He's not Marluxia, because there is no Marluxia, but he's clearly not Lumaria, because Lumaria is a person. The spirits before him had definite characters because they were designed more to educe Even's buried guilt and shame than to drop the final blow. The final spirit bears Lumaria's face simply as a last reminder that being cruel in life will come back to hurt you. Just wanted to make that clearer; he's neither Marly or Lu. I see him as sort of a blank-faced ghost figure, onto whom Even's conscience projects Lumaria's face. You guys can interpret how you want, but I just wanted to banish confusion.
I'm also aware that the KH characters might not technically believe in God; however, 'God bless us, every one,' is a classic Christmas Carol line, so I felt that it needed to be there for traditional purposes despite some ambiguity regarding their actual beliefs.
Hope you enjoyed! Thanks to MidnightSchemer13 and sonicdisney for reviewing :D you guys are like, the best! Merry Christmas.