In which noises are made, some of them joyful.

Just short of sunset, the men had finally finished taping one tarp over the open end of the red container, just as T set the last box back in the new end-of-the-container half wall. (Complete with ventilation holes.) The fire had been convinced to not smoke too badly (Carl had been set to stripping every last scrap of foam, faux leather and fabric from the broken furniture) and a sort of grill had been set up to keep sparks from spraying too far. Two buckets of gravelly sand, a stack of firewood, five boxes for sitting, and a narrow passage through the blankets made for a home that was crowded, but warm.

Then it was just a matter of settling every one in – the Greenes and Glenn to the far end, T-Dog almost opposite the fire, Rick and Lori bracketing Carl, and Carol splitting the space between Carl and the wall with Lori. Daryl settled in behind her, almost at the door but still so close his bow bumped her knee as he re-arranged his bedroll.

Maggie and T-Dog served soup – or, as they had taken to calling it, goop. Soup was liquid and unlikely to have any burned bits, but goop was thicker, could be reasonably eaten with a fork, and was much less likely to be spilled when the bowl was passed from hand to hand.

Any more, soup was when they'd been stretching the left overs too far, and were making up for content with hot water.

Once the bowls were around, Maggie stood, one hand hidden behind her back. "As I think everyone has heard, we've agreed that tonight is Christmas Eve. It being short notice and all, we're going to skip the presents this year. But to keep the holiday cheer we have –" she brought out her hand with a flourish, waving a rectangular brown box "- HOT COCOA!"

Carol had been there when Glenn found the box of generic powder packets. She still cheered like a loon with the rest of them.

When the cheers threatened to turn into actual offers of assistance, Maggie waved them all down. "No, all ya'll stay sitting down, or this'll be like the Horrible Soup Night Disaster all over again. Me and T will get a cup to everyone. One cup of cocoa, and then all the hot water you want to rinse the cup out, after. No, Rick, we got this."

And they did, with remarkably little incident. Carol passed the first cup that came to her to Daryl, and took the second as though it were…well, very hot chocolate-flavored liquid in a chipped mug that read Six Flags on the side. Heaven.

When all of them were again settled in on blankets and boxes, Hershel cleared his throat.

"It appears that we have missed Thanksgiving along the way, along with a number of Sundays and other days of note. While I am sure there have been more fortuitous Christmas gatherings, I am thankful for what we have here, now. For all of you." His eyes rested on Maggie and Beth before returning to the rest of the group.

"When my wife – Beth's mother, Annette – and I married, we were combining two families into one. That first year, we deliberately set out to form new traditions for our new family. Habits that would be part of our lives together there-after. And while these new customs were not all entirely successful -"

"Remind me to tell you about the chocolate popcorn," Maggie said to Glenn, in a voice that carried clear to the far end of the container.

"- We did eventually find some new customs to weld our family together. One of the most successful was Christmas Eve, when we would sing carols together. If it's agreeable to everyone, I'd like to invite you all, as our family, to sit with us as we sing."

There was a general murmur around the container. Next to Carol, Daryl was silent, studying Hershel.

"By the time Bethy was ten, we had added the tradition that the newest member of the family would choose the first song. This year, Glenn, that is you."

Beth raised her hands and did a little dance, still sitting in place. "Not the youngest! Not the youngest!" she chanted.

Glenn looked around, confused. "I- uh, well, isn't that Carl?"

"YES! I pick –"

"Carl!" Lori and Rick snapped together. The boy looked up, clearly shocked to hear his parents in accord for the first time in weeks.

Glenn held out his hands. "No, no, it's okay, it's like – a Christmas present! There." He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "Merry Christmas! You get to pick first."

"He gets to pick second," Lori said firmly.

Maggie elbowed Glenn. "Pick."

"So, ah, do they have to be carols? Like, you know, church songs? Not that there is anything wrong with that…"

Hershel smiled tolerantly, "My wife and I always chose Let It Snow."

"Oh," Glenn turned to Maggie with a mortified look on his face. "Do we have a song? Did we pick a song and I forgot?"

"Sweetheart," Maggie sighed, "You are making this way too difficult. Tell. Us. Your. Favorite. Now."

"Jingle Bell Rock." It all came out in a rush. The Greene family went a little still. "Uh, do you know that one?"

"Yes," Beth said simply. "Shawn liked that one, so we all know it. You have to help me sing, though – that's the rules."

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock

Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring

Snowing and blowing up bushels of fun

Now the jingle hop has begun

By the end of the first line, Glenn was grinning again, by the end of the first verse T-Dog had joined in with the Greenes, and then Rick, Lori, and Carol were singing as well. It didn't last – Beth knew far more verses than the rest of them, but they all joined in for the last chorus.

Nearly all – Carol was aware of Daryl sitting at her shoulder, slowly sipping the hot cocoa. He wasn't singing, but he hadn't left, either. From time to time he would lean out, shifting the tarp enough to check outside.

"Now is it my turn?" Carl stage whispered to his mother.

She rubbed his head. "Go ahead."

"FROSTY THE SNOWMAN!" Without warning, he plunged into the song. "Frosty the Snowman was a jolly happy soul –" and made Beth hustle to catch up.

With a corncob pipe and button nose…

At the end, Maggie said to Carl, "Okay, pick the person to pick the next one."

"Dad," Carl said, without hesitation. "Come on Dad, you have to pick, it's the rule."

"This comes with a lot of rules," Rick observed, a bit of the edge back in his voice.

"Honey," Lori murmured. Rick ducked his head, and then said flatly, "Oh Tannenbaum."

Beth looked momentarily stricken. "Uh, I only know the words in English. If that's okay?"

Rick nodded sourly, mouth set.

Half way through the first verse, Carl interrupted. "Dad, you have to sing, too!"

Carol could feel Rick's tension from an arm's length away. For Carl, for Christmas, Rick took a deep breath and joined in with Beth. Carol sang, too, with Maggie and Hershel, and stumbled over half the words in their version.

...the way to joy and peace for me...oh Christmas tree

Rick's mood must have made an impression on Carl, because after the last of Oh Tannenbaum faded away, the boy waited a long, long moment before asking quietly, "Who now, Dad?"

Rick lifted his head, looked across the group. "T-Dog." Lori flinched, hard. Rick either didn't notice or didn't care. "I bet you sang a lot at your church, with that voice."

"Oh, yeah," T said, drawing it out. "Yeah, we did. Girl, do you know Go Tell It On The Mountain, or do I got to call it line by line?"

Beth shook her head, grinning. "Oh, no, I know this one."

While shepherds kept their watching

Over silent flocks by night

Hershel joined in on the next line, and it was amazing, the two big voices filling the container. Maggie sang with Beth, as did Carol, and the Grimes sang the chorus. To Carol's surprise, Daryl sang the chorus as well, raspy and quiet. She wasn't sure if anyone else heard.

T picked Lori next, as if to make up for Rick passing her by. She lifted her chin, eyes locked on Beth. "Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful."

Rick looked like he'd been slapped. Daryl snorted, not quietly enough. Carol elbowed him.

Lori sang the words clearly and competently, if not as well as Beth. Glenn floundered through the chorus. Carol sang. Rick sat stone faced, staring at the fire, while Carl looked from one parent to the other.

When the song trailed off in an uncomfortable silence, Carl leaned forward. "How about Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer? Shane liked that one best!"

The temperature – already chill - abruptly dropped by ten degrees. "Baby, hush," said Lori.

Carl shook his head, upset by the sudden tension, trying to make it right. "I know he did, he told me."

"Did you know," Hershel said, "That it was a veterinarian who wrote that song?" Carl shook his head in disbelief. "It was. However, it was a cowboy – Gene Autry – who first sang Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer."

At Carol's elbow, Daryl suddenly said, "Yea HAW!"

T-Dog snorted. "I thought that was your favorite, there, nature-boy."

"Well, it ain't. It's lil – nonna yer damn business." Carol put a hand on Daryl's leg, squeezed. He jerked a little, leaned back and growled, "You don't know nothing."

Beth leaned forward into the break between voices and sang, like a conspirator, "You know Dasher and Dancer, Prancer and Vixen –" and then they were all off, singing through the adventures of the red-nosed deer, hiding who he was, rejected by the others, and eventually the savior of the day.

Halfway through, Carol found herself thinking, my, never thought about it that way. The mental image of Rudolf pinned to a crucifix sent her into snorts of laugher, half-hysterically, and it was with an effort that she dragged her attention back to the song at hand. She didn't think the others noticed, but Daryl looked at her and shook his head as to say, crazy people.

At the end, Lori gamely said, "Okay, Maggie, your turn."

Maggie leaned in towards Glenn and began crooning, "Ba-da-bo, ba-da-bo, ooo, Santa Baby, just slip a sable under the tree, for me…"

The laughter drowned out whatever the next line was, and Maggie had to start all over. Glenn rotated between looking horrified, pretending to take notes, and sneaking glances at Hershel, who put on a stern frown whenever he caught Glenn looking at him and laughed outloud the rest of the time.

When they finished, Maggie took a deep swallow from Glenn's mug and pointed across the fire, calling out Carol's name. "You pick!"

"Yeah!" said Carl. "What was Sophia's favorite?"

Lori drew a breath to scold again, but Carol had had time to prepare for this. "Oh, she always liked the Alvin and Chipmunks song –"

"Yah!" Carl cheered.

"- but that's much too hard to sing if you're not a Chipmunk."

Over Carl's crestfallen look, T said, "I knew we should have picked up the helium tanks from that party shop."

A fresh chuckling murmur ran around the container. Carol hugged herself, flashed T a smile and said, "Beth, do you know, Do You See What I See?"

"An excellent choice," Hershel murmured. "Go ahead, Bethy, Carol, you start."

Said the night wind to the little lamb –

On the third verse, Beth let her voice drop away. Hershel joined in, and then on the fourth verse –

Said the king to the people everywhere –

T's voice reached down to the heart of the earth and brought up a wealth of solid determination, tinged with sadness.

They dropped off, one by one, and Beth finished it alone

He will bring us goodness and light…

In the quiet after, T said, "Amen." Rick picked up a hand and draped it around Carl's shoulders, hugging his son to his side.

"Mr Dixon," Beth called quietly. "You haven't picked." Carol felt him tense up again beside her. He picked at the blanket over his lap, twisting bits of fluff off the wool. "Your turn."

He shrugged, swallowed. "I'm good. Ya'll already sang it. The one with the little lamb."

Carol considered him, wondering if everyone else could see how badly Daryl was lying, and then turned back to the group. "If Daryl's going to claim mine, then I'm going to ask for an extra. How about Little Drummer Boy?"

Heads nodded all the way around the circle. Daryl's shoulder was a rock, leaning into hers.

Come, they told me – hands drummed on thighs, boxes, the side of the container. Parumpapumpum, rumpapumpum. Beside Carol, Daryl's fingers tapped on the stock of his crossbow.

I am a poor boy too, parumpapumpum,

I have no gift to bring parumpapumpum,

That's fit to give a king, parumpapumpum, rumpapumpum, rumpapumpum

Carol swallowed around the lump in her throat and kept on singing.

Then they sang Away in a Manger, and We Wish You a Merry Christmas. More wood went into the fire and the bowls were collected and stowed away with a rattle. Daryl rose, gathered up his crossbow, and slipped out into the darkness, only to return a few moments later, face bright with the cold. He tugged the tarp closed and settled again by Carol.

"This is fun!" Carl said, into the quiet while everyone passed around more hot water. "I want to do this every night."

"Every Christmas, maybe, baby," Lori said, planting a kiss on his head. "Not every night. Christmas songs are for Christmas." Carl frowned at her. "That's the rules."

They sang Let It Snow, then, for Hershel and Annette. And then Carl asked for the real Jingle Bells song, Maggie wanted the Batman version –

Jingle Bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg –

- and Lori asked for Silent Night. They sang it twice. Carl fell asleep half way through.

At the end, Beth cleared her throat, straightened her back, and sang, alone, Angels We Have Heard On High, her voice carrying the long, rolling strand of melody up, up, through the smoky haze at the top of the container, the cold metal over that, and to the stars beyond.

Glo-o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o-O-ri-a in Ex-cel-sis De-ooooooo!

The fire had nearly gone out, and was only glowing embers.

The silence stretched on.

Finally Maggie murmured, "Good night, everyone. Merry Christmas."

There was a general rustle of stretching legs, shifting bodies, another few bits of chair added to the firepit and Rick standing to step past Carol and find a place by the entrance. "I got watch," he said to Daryl, voice low. Carol caught the glint of two sets of eyes, looking back at the fire. Then she wrapt herself in her blanket and took the empty spot next to Lori.