A/N – Made a mistake with the year they ended up in, so I'll corrected that later.

Also, you'll notice this isn't exactly like It's a Wonderful Life. I've taken the concept of the movie more than exact details and placed Christian within this situation. So you're not going to see a remake featuring Christian and company. Sorry if that's what you were expecting. (That would be pretty sweet though!) That said, I've also taken liberties with what Christian's guardian angel is capable of doing and how he gets his message across.

Don't forget to check out Facebook for updates (marpuri fanfiction), and come get to know me and other writers and readers in the FSOG Fanfiction group on Facebook. (shameless plug!) Thank you to Netzel and Wearejorus for talking me through my writer's block yesterday.

As always, I own neither FSOG nor It's a Wonderful Life.

Pardon any errors. I wanted to type this up and post it quickly. The next chapter is written, I just need to type it out.

Chapter 3 – Mother dearest

Christian's eyes darken. "Why did you take me here?"

"It all starts with her. Ella's life is the first one your presence, or lack thereof, affects."

"This is pointless. Her life would already be better without an unwanted baby to complicate things."

I say nothing, merely gesture towards the direction Ella ran. We follow after Ella who has entered a dingy apartment. Its current occupants were passed out on the floor and on the tattered couch against the wall. A shirtless man slumped in an armchair stretched languidly, then sidled over to greet her.

"Ell-Bell! What's up, beautiful?"

Ella stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.

"Sorry. You said I could come hang out whenever."

"Yeah! Yeah, of course! Sorry, we had a hell of a party last night. You should have come! Where were you?"

"I was working. Got home this morning to a total shit storm."

"Your dad again?"

Her eyes flash angrily. "I told you, he's not my father!"

"Sorry! Sorry!" He brushed her hair away from her face and drew her into an embrace to comfort her. "So what happened?"

"He was shit faced again. Probably the worst I've seen since my mom died. He must have been drinking all night and all morning because he was already wasted when I got home. He made a pass at me, saying he hasn't had any action since my mom died. When I said no, he freaked out and threw a fucking lamp at me. I took off. He tried to grab me and put me in his car to take me god knows where, but I got away from him and just ran. I didn't know where else to go. I've got no one, Ry."

"Shh. You've got me." He said and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

"Here." He fished a pipe and a packet out of his jeans pocket. "I was saving this for later. Take a hit. It'll make you feel better."

"I don't know, Ryan."

"Just to take the edge off. One rock."

He preps the pipe for her, lights it, and watches as she inhales the vapors. Within seconds, her pupils dilate and her breathing deepens as her brain is bathed in dopamine. She closes her eyes to savour the sensations.

"Better?"

She peacefully nods in affirmation.

"You wanna hang out today?"

Ella sighed. "No. I'm gonna take care of some shit."

"You sure? I'm gonna score some more rock later."

"I'll think about it."

...

"Is that my father?" Christian asked.

"No. Not in this lifeline. You don't exist, remember?"

Christian shoots me a wary look.

"He's a friend of your mother's. Sort of."

"Dealer?"

"Enabler, I guess you'd say. In both life-lines."

We follow Ella from the apartment through the streets until we eventually end up at a cemetery. Ella sits in front of a tombstone, sombre – her earlier crack-induced high has worn off.

"I miss you so much, mom," she murmurs. "Everything is just so fucked up now that you're gone. Mike is an asshole. He's either trying to get in my pants or trying to crack my skull open. But then he was always an asshole, right? Ryan is... well he's just Ryan. I've got no one. Everyone still hates me, I've got no friends, and now without you... " Ella starts crying. "I just want to get away. I get high with Ry sometimes. I know you'd be pissed about that, and I'm sorry. But I don't know how else to stop hurting. It hurts so fucking much. I love you mom. And I'm sorry I'm such a fuck-up." She spends a bit more time at her mother's grave-side, lost in thought. Eventually, she gets up again and starts walking.

As we follow behind her, I ask, "Do you remember much of your mother?"

"Very little. I was only three when she died. The adoption agency only knew she was an addict, and that she had OD'ed a few days before I was found. I remember feeling scared. And sad. And hungry. I remember wondering why she wouldn't wake up and hug me like she always did when the guy, her boyfriend or pimp I guess, whenever he finally left." He smiles wistfully. "I remember her looking really sad, but she'd hold me, and rock me, and sing to me and I'd play with her hair. Even when she was high, she'd sing to me. Funny, the details I'd forgotten."

"She loved you, Christian. Even though she was in the clutches of addiction and living a very difficult existence, she loved you."

"If she loved me, she'd have gotten off the crack. Made a better life for us."

"It's not that easy. It was an uphill battle. One that many good souls, your mother included, were not able to overcome. Drugs are merciless. They only make the users want to use more and more no matter the consequences. Once someone is ensnared in it's talons, escape can be difficult for anyone."

Christian says nothing, but continues to watch Ella.

We ended up where we started, at her home. Ella cautiously checks for her step-father's car. Not seeing it nearby, she enters her apartment. Determined and purposeful, she roots through her jewellery box, pulls out a necklace which she dons, and a watch that she pockets. She scrawls "Fuck You Mike" on a notepad and leaves it on the table before she exits.

"What the hell is she up to?" asks Christian.

We follow her again as she makes her way back to Ryan's apartment. His guests have left. He is dozing in the armchair.

"Hey Ry. I wanna get high one more time. Here." She fishes the watch out of her pocket and thrusts it into his hand. "That should pay for it."

He turns it over, examining it. "This is nice."

"It was my mother's. I don't need it anymore though."

He looks at her for a beat. "You sure?"

Ana nods and he puts the watch in his pocket.

"Hang on. I'll get you something." He returns from another room with his paraphernalia in his hand. "You okay, Ell-Bell?" he asks as she heats the end of the pipe with his lighter.

"I will be." She says, exhaling after sucking back a lungful of acrid smoke. She sits back on the couch and closes her eyes.

"So, a bunch of us are gonna party again later. Josh scored an 8-ball and some hash. Evie and Dale are coming again. You in?"

Ella shakes her head. "No. I've got other plans."

"Whatever. Come hang with us after."

Ella shrugs.

Ryan resumes his place on the armchair. Later, she leaves. Ryan is back to sleeping off the previous night's revelry.

"See ya, Ry." She says softly and closes the door behind her.

Ella walks again, this time to the Belle Isle bridge. She speaks to no one on the way, but pauses one last time at the railing. No one walking or driving by pays her any mind. Christian and I, two lone figures watching her every move, remain unseen under the cover of my umbrella. Ella lifts the necklace, a simple chain and pendant, to her lips, then hoists herself onto the rail. She sits, humming a Bob Marley tune. Christian murmurs along.

Don't worry

About a thing.

Because every little thing

Is gonna be alright.

Woke up this morning,

Smiled with the rising sun.

Three little birds

Pitch by my doorstep

Singing sweet songs

Of melodies pure and true,

Saying –

This is my message to you.

Then without pause, she pushed herself off, plummeting to the water below.

Christian gasped and lurched forward. I held him back by the shoulder.

"I don't understand." He says. "She dies? She dies anyway whether I'm around or not?"

"There's a difference though, Christian. Here, now, she was all alone. She felt no hope, no purpose, no need to continue. When she had you, she had a reason to live."

"But she lived a miserable life with me. And her lifestyle made my first few years a living hell."

"Don't you see? She needed you. Believe it or not, she loved you. And she tired. She really did. But the pull of the drugs was too strong. You were around, though, to give her hope, and someone to love her and for her to love. You gave her a reason to try, even though – in the end – the drugs took her after all. It wasn't your fault she lived the way she did, and it wasn't your fault she died."

A muscle twitches in Christian's jaw as he grinds his teeth. Tears are visible, but they do not fall. Christian's eyes remain on the spot his mother last stood. "I'm still not convinced either of us was better off."

I sigh. This is tougher than I thought it would be, but I haven't brought out the big guns yet. Those are coming.

"Let's move on then." I reply.

A mix of emotions on his face, he eyes the bridge railing one last time as I once again lower the umbrella, obscuring our view. I hear him let out a breath as I spin it once more, moving us to our next time and place. When I lift the umbrella back over us, we are in the kitchen of a warm, tidy house. Seated at the table are a couple and their blonde, curly-haired, blue eyed son.

"As soon as you've finished your breakfast, we'll head over. Are you excited about meeting your new brother, Elliot?"

They're much younger, but he'd recognize them anywhere.

"Mom and dad!" whispers Christian in awe.