References to the ep "Death Takes A Holiday" with my own little creative twist, of course :-)

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Hawkeye and B.J. slumped through the door of the Swamp, littering the dingy floor with their clothes. Charles was sitting at his desk thumbing through a well-worn book.

B.J. stopped when he spotted a form in Charles's bunk. He motioned in that direction with a dirty martini glass, getting Hawkeye's attention. His bunkmate raised an eyebrow, but kept silent.

B.J. cleared his throat. "So, what happened?" he asked, settling with a weary sigh onto his cot.

Charles closed his book with a thud. "Jack Daniels. Maybe Jim Beam. I honestly don't remember." He looked over at Jessie. "I really don't think she will, either."

"You mean, she finally caved?" Hawkeye asked, struggling to pull his filthy boots from his feet. He threw them on the floor loudly. Jessie stirred and flopped over.

Charles gave Hawkeye a dirty look, making sure she remained asleep. He had led her to the Swamp to avoid the stares of the few stragglers in the compound after her outburst. The past few emotional roller-coaster days had finally taken their toll, and Jessie had fallen asleep. "Yes, she did."

"You think she'll be alright?" B.J. stood up to refill his glass.

Charles shrugged. "As alright as anyone could be in this place, I suppose."

B.J. and Hawkeye nodded in mutual understanding.

*****************************************

To say that the next few weeks were difficult was an understatement. Although she tried not to let it show. She did her duty, and did it well - from the operating room to the supply room – and whether she knew it or not - all under Charles's watchful eye.

Everyone hated to see the haunted look in her eyes when she thought no one was looking. But, Jessie soldiered on, fighting through the pain that caught in her throat each time something reminded her of what she had.

She never sang anymore, not even to the wounded. No matter how hard her friends would cajole, she couldn't muster the ability. She just plain didn't feel like it.

In his own way, Charles was there for her. He didn't smother her with attention or coax her into talking about her feelings. When she found herself at her lowest, he would show up with his chess set or a new book or record and distract her from her thoughts. He could always make her smile with stories about the trouble he and Honoria –especially Honoria – would get into when they were younger. With some coaxing, he would even get her to talk about her family and life at home. Surprising even himself, he was genuinely interested in where she came from and what made her into the woman she was today.

But, he never could get her to sing, either. And, oh, how he missed it!

Jessie became accustomed to the loneliness. She found herself laughing at the jokes B.J., Hawkeye, Charles and Margaret would play on each other and genuinely meaning it. She also found that she could wake up in the morning and not be crushed by the weight of it all. She even managed a few gab fests with the nurses until the early morning hours, just like before. But, if the conversation ever once came close to mentioning Radar, she clammed up and tried her best to change the subject.

She became comfortable with the friendship she and Charles had developed, enjoying his company and his support. Now that she had gotten to really know him, she found him to be not at all pompous and uncaring as she originally thought him to be. He had his moments, but his true self was not at all what he allowed the outside world to see.

That's how she found herself knee-deep in donated food, defending him each time someone commented on the one can of oysters he reluctantly handed over for the orphans' Christmas party.

"Look, I'm sure he's got his reasons." Jessie helped Klinger move a table over to the corner, huffing and puffing with exertion.

"I know you're friends and all, but he's gotten at least three very large boxes this month. You can't tell me there wasn't something in there aside from one can of pencil erasers!"

She wiped her hands on her pants. "You know as well as I do that Charles keeps to himself. If he wants to keep whatever was in those boxes, then nothing we can say will change that."

"But, it's Christmas! Since our supply line was cut, you'd think he'd want to help these children have a good time!" They moved another table.

"Who knows what he does or doesn't do, since he's so private! From what I was told, he seems to clam up even more during the holidays. I guess it's his way of coping." Jessie glanced wistfully at the scraggly tree in the corner decorated with surgical utensils, feeling a sudden wave of homesickness for the gigantic spruce that always decorated their foyer. The last few years, she had even gone deep into the woods with Arthur to pick it out and cut it down. But not this year.

Klinger noticed the look in her eyes. They all had the same one their first Christmas away from home. He reached over and patted her back. "Look, kiddo, if you want to take up for him, go ahead. He doesn't deserve it, but you've always been a sucker for lost causes."

"Gee, thanks, Klinger."

"Attention all personnel! Too early for a Christmas truce! Wounded in the compound!"

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"Hark the herald ages ssiiinnng! Glory to the newborn kkiiinngg!" Hawkeye tried to entertain himself, as well as the staff, as they stitched their way through another batch of wounded.

"Pierce, would you please cease and desist? And that's an order!"

"Why, Charles. I thought you enjoyed fine music."

"I believe what is bellowing from your lungs is the last thing anyone would call music, let alone fine music."

"Oh, c'mon, Hawk. You know what Christmas does to Charles." B.J. threw a sponge on the floor.

"Yeah, he has a tighter grip on his wallet." Hawkeye didn't even glance up when the faraway shelling abruptly came closer.

"Look, guys, leave him alone." Although assisting Col. Potter with a difficult bowel resection, Jessie had all she could take. "It's none of your business what Charles does with his money or food or anything else, for that matter."

"Spoken like a true aristocrat," B.J. added.

"I would take a true aristocrat over a snarky doctor any day," Jessie shot back, annoyed. She handed the Colonel the metzenbaum scissors before he asked for them.

"OK, folks, enough! No more defamation of character during this session. Period!" The OR obediently fell quiet at the Colonel's demand, except for Hawkeye humming Christmas carols across the room.

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"So, what did you donate?" Kelleye asked Jessie as they sterilized equipment.

"Brownies from Mattie. And cookies from my sister. Err . . . her cook."

"Sounds delicious!"

"I'm just glad you donated macadamias! I think we're going to need some salt in our diet after all those sweets!"

They could hear the surgeons before they saw them.

"OK, Beej, guess what this one is. Hmm, hm, hm, hm, hmmmm, hm."

"Uhhh, 'The First Noel'!"

"Wrong! It's 'Jingle Bells'."

"There was no way that was 'Jingle Bells'! 'Jingle Bells' goes like this. Hmm, hmm, hmm. Hmm, hmm, hmm."

Jessie and Kelleye smiled at each other as they worked.

"Well, why don't we ask our expert music critic."

"Yes, Charles, why don't you tell us the exact pitch and timing of 'Jingle Bells'."

Charles rolled his eyes as he removed his bloodied scrubs, tossing them carelessly into the laundry bin.

Jessie's smile faded as she chewed on her lip, trying to keep quiet as they needled him.

"You should know that 'Jingle Bells' is beneath a Winchester."

"Hell, Beej, we're all beneath a Winchester, at least according to the resident one."

Finally, Jessie had enough. A piece of equipment rattled on the tray as she tossed it aside. "Please, guys, just shut up. OK?"

"Why should we? He's selfish, egotistical . . ."

"Excuse me? Gentlemen? I get the point. Now, please do as the Lieutenant said and shut up." He turned to face Jessie. "And Lieutenant? I don't need you to fight my battles for me. So, perhaps you could take a bit of your own advice and butt out!" Charles glared at Jessie before he stormed from the room.

Miffed, Jessie resumed her work, hoping she didn't look as embarrassed as she felt. Hawkeye and B.J. continued with their game, arguing about how to hum 'Silent Night', but Jessie didn't notice. She focused on the task at hand, trying to forget Charles's words. It wasn't like he hadn't ever snapped at her before, usually ending with her snapping back. But, since Radar left, they had developed what she thought was a rapport, and she had forgotten how cruel his words could be. Or, maybe they just sounded harsh due to the fact they were supposed to be friends.

Jessie jumped when a hand touched her arm.

"You OK, Lieutenant?" Col. Potter asked. He had seen the exchange and couldn't help but notice the hurt look in her eyes she tried to cover with indifference.

"Fine, sir."

"Don't worry about Winchester."

"I don't." Jessie struggled with a way to change the subject. "How're your corns?"

The colonel made a face. "Been better. I hope my wife's package gets her soon, or I'll be doing surgery on my knees. Both of you better hurry up or you'll be late for the shindig."

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The party was a huge success, the joy on the children's faces at the small gifts and food temporarily helping them all forget their troubles.

Jessie was with Father Mulchaey when he was called to pre-op to give the last rights to the soldier B.J. was trying to keep alive through Christmas. Despite the decorations and the laughter, depression tried to creep up on her as she watched him walk away.

"Hey, Jess, wait up!"

Good! A diversion! "Klinger! So, what did you think of the socks?"

He pulled up his pants leg. "Already have them on. Warmest things I own."

"My sister made them for me, but they're too big. Thought you might like them."

"Hell, I like anything from home! Even your home! But, Jess, I gotta tell you something." He took her over to a semi-private corner and lowered his voice. "You were right."

"Right about what?" Jessie whispered.

"About Major Winchester." He told her about the exchange he overheard between Charles and the overseer of the orphanage.

Fleetingly, Jessie thought of her own family's traditions that she was missing.

"I never thought in a billion years I'd say this, but maybe Major Winchester isn't so bad after all."

Jessie gave Klinger a small smile. "See. You'll have to listen to me more often."

Her smile faded as Klinger walked away. Charles could be such an enigma. Jessie knew he had this mental wall around himself, denying few, if any, into his life. It was how he dealt with the chaos around him. They all dealt with it in their own way. For all she knew, he was like that at home, as well.

But, there was no call for treating her like he had.

A small hand tugged on her pants leg, saving her from her thoughts. Jessie had to smile at the cute little girl as she leaned over to speak to her.

"Hey, sweetheart. What do you have there?"

"It was under the tree, way back in the back," Bigelow called out from across the room. "You looked like you could use a special delivery."

"Who's it from?"

Bigelow shrugged. "Didn't say."

Jessie took the wrapped package from the little girl. She reached in her pocket and gave her a piece of candy she had been saving . With a large grin, the little girl scampered back to Bigelow, proudly displaying her prize.

Jessie settled at a table. Curious, she tore into the plain brown wrapping – oh, for colored Christmas paper! – and a card fell out. Jessie recognized the familiar scrawl. She set aside the half-opened gift and carefully opened the envelope. For some reason, she was holding her breath.

Jessamyn –I know you were trying to take up for me, and I did appreciate it more than I realized. After fighting my own battles in this wretched place, it's comforting to know someone is on my side. I wanted you to have this, so at least you could remember times when I wasn't so harsh and unforgiving. Merry Christmas. – Charles

She felt tears sting her eyes. Resolutely, she picked up the gift and tore away the remaining paper. The frame was silver and was worth a bundle, she could tell. But, the picture is what touched her the most.

"Really, Charles, you can make the most depressing pictures ever. If you're going to get all dressed up in your 'Sunday-go-to-court martial' uniform, you might as well look happy about it."

Charles rolled his eyes resignedly. "This is not a fun booth photo. It's for my sister. She wants proof that I'm not withering away in this cesspool." Nearby, the timer on the camera ticked merrily away.

"I think your sister has a better sense of humor than some dour photo." Jessie walked into the carefully set up frame and poked Charles in the stomach. "And, I don't think you have to worry about withering away."

Charles tried to give Jessie an exasperating look, but failed. It was so good to see her out and about. "What are you doing out here anyway? You'll catch your death of cold!"

"C'mon, it's 50 degrees. That's almost summer around here! Plus, you yourself told me I was fit enough to go back to work."

"Well, where's your ever-present shadow?" Radar had been constantly hovering around her as she recuperated.

Jessie shrugged, studying the camera. "Colonel Potter has him busy."

The camera continued snapping carefully timed photos, but Charles didn't notice as Jessie playfully removed his hat and plopped it on her own head.

"Gee, no wonder you're so pompous. You really do have a big head!" She pushed the hat back to keep it from falling in her eyes.

He draped his arm over her shoulders in a friendly gesture. "You really do exasperate me, Jessamyn. Not only are you interruptive, but you put entirely too much stock in making me enjoy myself."

Jessie grinned up at him and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Why, thank you, Major Winchester. Didn't think you'd noticed."

He couldn't help but smile back.

Jessie had almost forgotten about the entire exchange. At the time, she had searched for Charles, worried about him because he had been acting strangely . She had been determined to lift his spirits, despite not knowing what had brought about his funk in the first place.

Or maybe she did know, but didn't want to think about it.

Making her way to her tent, Jessie sat the photo on her nightstand and rummaged in her footlocker for the package. At the last minute, she decided not to give it to one of the children, thinking one day she and Charles would be on speaking terms again. She just didn't think it would be so soon.

A light was on inside the Swamp. She knocked tentatively, hoping he was still awake.

"Come in." He set his book aside as she hesitantly stepped inside.

For a moment, she stood awkwardly, wondering what to say. "You missed a good party."

"I'm sure it was . . . ah . . . splendid."

Cautiously, she stepped inside. "Thanks for the picture. The frame's beautiful."

Charles looked away. "It wasn't much, but I thought due to my actions earlier, I owed you some form of apology. I had planned to give it to you anyway before . . . well before what happened in the scrub room." Actually, he had wanted to buy her a set of ruby earrings he saw in Tokyo, but restrained himself from such a lavish gift.

"I wondered what happened to those photos."

Charles chuckled. "I sent the roll to my sister to be developed, and she said she enjoyed the pictures much more after you showed up in them. Apparently, the first ones were as droll as you had said they would be."

"You know, that's the second time tonight someone has told me I was right. I guess I'm on a roll."

"And the first?"

A deep breath. "Klinger. He told me about the orphans and the candy." At Charles's look, she quickly added. "But, he only told me because I had been taking up for you the past couple of days. And I have something for you, too. It's not much, but it was my first and only foray into the needlearts." She reached inside her coat and came out with a package, wrapping similarly in brown paper.

Charles took it from her, pleased but trying not to show it, his irritation with Klinger momentarily forgotten. Carefully, he opened it, revealing the dark red and white scarf with red trim. He held it for a moment without speaking.

Jessie's face fell. "You don't like it."

"No. No, that's not it at all. I . . . love it."

"You do?"

He fingered the painstaking stitches. "Of course! I don't own very many things that are homemade." His mother was much too busy to knit. She could pay someone else to do it, anyway.

Jessie smiled with relief. "It matches your hat." She reached behind her and snatched it off his foot locker. "See?"

"Well, would you look at that."

Jessie put the knitted cap on his head. She took the scarf from him and wrapped it around his neck, fussing with it a bit, rubbing her hand over the bumpy stitches. "A Jessie Callahan original. Maybe one day it'll be worth a lot of money." Wearily, she sighed, her hands settling on his chest. Being cheerful wasn't all it was cracked up to be. "Don't you get tired of pretending everything's just fine, knowing that all of us are so homesick, we'd move mountains to be home right now?"

He placed his hands over hers, holding them to his chest. When she looked up, she was surprised to see tears in his eyes. "I . . . I didn't mean to upset you. I was just feeling sorry for myself. That's all."

As quickly as the unshed tears formed, they were gone. "No, it's not that. It's just that . . . well, I was just thinking . . ." He took a deep breath. "No matter how crazy or inhumane this world seems to be, I know you'll be there. It scares me to know I might have chased you away."

Such sentiment from Charles was downright shocking, and she didn't know what to say. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him. He clung to her, resting his cheek on the top of her head. With her wearing boots and him in slippers, she was the perfect height for it.

"Merry Christmas, Charles. I hope you'll be home for the next one."

"Thank you, Jessamyn." But, if you aren't with me, it won't be the same. The thought snuck up on him. He tried to push it away as he held onto her tighter, using her as a shield against the sadness and despair just on the edge of his soul.