#ace apprentice

Sneaking out was all routine.

She knew what passages to avoid, how to get around Mercedes and Melchor, all the turns that lead towards the hidden door, the paths she traveled to get into town- all of it. Sure, walking and climbing nearly nightly had taken a toll on her sleeping patterns and muscles, it was all worth it when she got to see him.

She was in love with a wanted murderer. Seems about right.

She could’ve skipped along to the Rowdy Raven with how her heart was pounding from anticipation. She was in love with Julian, and she intended to let him know that when the time was right. They had certainly bonded, yes, in ways friends would bond- they shared stories about Asra being dumb, Julian told her about medicine and medical procedures (which she was terrible at), and she told him about the wonders and evolution of music- even singing a few numbers, with or without him. He was a lovely baritone, even if he didn’t think so whenever she brought it up.

His mysterious, dark rimmed eyes, his high cheekbones, his curly, soft, dark ginger hair…. The damn low cut shirt he always wore under his coat…. Sure, those were some things that made her love him at first. But it was his hidden kind heart, his humour, and his breathtaking smile that helped along.

She was head over heels with the help of a fugitive, and she could care less.

Her eyes wandered up to the roof of the Raven, grin ecstatic when she saw its most notable attender, Malak, sitting on a perch, being jittery as ever. But then… she looked inside, and her heart fell.

There he was, sitting in his usual spot near the back- with a woman. She was gorgeous, dressed in a bartender’s uniform, with sky blue hair and light skin. A splash of freckles was across her nose, and she was sitting on his lap, obviously flirting with him. And he seemed to be flirting back, that stupid, attractive half smirk ever present on his features, his eyebrow twitching…

And then his visible eye made contact with her through the window.

...

Typical.

Gloria turned on her heel and sped up the alley near the tavern, attempting to find her way back to her shop… might as well stop in during all this torment. Of course, she didn’t notice the accompanying footfalls that seemed to follow close behind her. Indeed, she could only arrive at her magic shop, shut the door- and throw the nearest book at the wall.

“Of fucking course!” She screams to herself, “Fall in love with someone when nobody gives a shit about you. Hell, that’s so fucking typical, you dumb sack of shit!”

She wasn’t yelling at the Doctor… but herself instead.

“Haven’t you learned by now that you don’t deserve anything? Asra only picked you off the street because he’s using you to get popular, even if he avoids his damn responsibility as a magician! The Countess is only using you to find a fucking fugitive! Portia could care less- she’s probably afraid of you! And Julian…. Used you as nothing more than a fucking trophy!!”

During all of this, she could only punch the wall and scream, her knuckles bleeding from where she hit the stone. They were covered in scars, reopening wounds from previous punches that had not quite healed. This is how she truly saw herself, as the scum of the world, who people only pretended to care about.

“It’s not Julian’s fucking fault, you dense motherfucker!” She continued punching and screaming, tears falling down her face, “It’s your fucking fault! Everything you do is your own damn fault, you worthless, goddamn, motherfucking, lying bitch!”

Suddenly, something caught her wrists.

Turning sharply at the hard grip, preparing to kick and scream and yell, her brown eyes fell upon the last person she’d expected to see.

“... What’s all this, then?” Asked Julian, softly, “I didn’t think part of an apprentice’s training was punching a wall and yelling at themselves.”

She could only stare at him dumbly, sniffling and shaking, as tears ran down her face and blood spilled from her knuckles. “Come on now. Was this about what happened at the tavern? … If it was, I will have you know that Denise was coming onto me without my consent.” Ah, there’s the flush of embarrassment that often stuck his pallid features, “I had no say in the matter; I was simply trying to wish her away.”

Gloria sniffed. “Uh huh. Yea. Sure you were.”

After a moment, he let go of her wrists, folding his arms in front of him. This was absolutely… perplexing. The cheerful, musical spirit he had come to know well in a short amount of time thought of herself like this? How had she survived like that?

… Then again, he was one to talk about surviving like that.

“You can believe me or not,” he said with a sigh, “but what I say is the truth. I would never lie to you, Gloria, because…” another blush, “... well, I wouldn’t. That’s all.” Another sniff from the apprentice, and suddenly his one-eyed gaze turned gentle. “Come on. Let me bandage those hands of yours-”

“No.”

He blinked as she drew her hands back, swatting him away. “... Why not?”

“I deserve it.” She spoke, looking down at the blood flowing from her knuckles. “I deserve every bad thing that happens to me. And will happen to me. And had happened to me. Everyone forgets about me. Nobody cares about me. I know this, I’ve learned it, I’ve heard it for years. I just-”

“Did Asra ever say that to you?”

She looked up at him suddenly, brown eyes wide. “... No. But I’m sure he was thinking it-”

“Listen to me,” he was stern now, though stern out of compassion, “I’ve known Asra for a very, very long time. Quite well, actually, as I’m sure I’ve told you. Know this, shopkeep- everything he does is not without good intention. There’s a good reason he took you in as an apprentice.”

“Because he craves popularity,” she responded, sniffing again- there’s some fresh tears coming down her face now.

“He would ne’er do such a thing,” Julian retorted, determined to win this battle, “he could care less about being popular; he wants to help people. Why do you think he and I tried to help find a cure for the Red Plague? Regardless of what he thinks of me now?”

She didn’t have a response for that.

“I cannot speak for the Countess,” he continued, “nor can I speak for Portia. But you must know this. So many people care about you. You have an infectious mirth about you, Gloria, that I have not seen for quite some time. Your determination to make people smile, to make people be safe… it’s a thing to be admired.”

She was sobbing again, sniffling, and her stupid motormouth flung out the emotions she’d been holding onto, “But do you care about me?”

A long, silent pause, only broken by the sniffles and sobs from the witch. Until finally....

“... Yes. Yes, I do.”

She took in another shaky breath, suddenly watching him come closer to her, and a gloved hand laid on her face, brushing away her tears, as his tall frame loomed over her- comforting, securing, welcoming.

“I thought myself undeserving of someone like you,” he said after a second, leaning closer to her, “but… you made me feel accepted around you. Something I didn’t know I had needed. We’re one in the same, you and I.” And after another hopelessly soft smile, tears formed in her eyes as he continued speaking.

“Gloria, I love you.”

She blinked once. Then twice. A third time, feeling another sob come up in her, and she freed it, flinging her arms around Julian’s neck. Christ, if he was lying to her right now, she didn’t want to know it. She just wanted to feel this strange, warm feeling inside her for as long as she could.

She buried her face in his neck, feeling his strong arms hug her back tightly, like he’d never let her go.

“...I love you too, y’know,” she said, after she’d calmed down due to his hug. “Since we’re in the middle of confessing things right now.”

“... Since when?” He asked from where his face was on her shoulder.

“Since that time at the Raven where we did the Minuet song and dance,” she answered, “you just looked so elated, spinning me around and singing your probably drunk heart out.”

He recalled the time fondly, of course- she had been elated too, even is he suspected she was using her voice magic at the time to spread the feeling of joy throughout the room. But at this point, he didn’t care.

“What about you?” she asked.

“The first night you sang for me.” He answered without hesitation, “well, not just me. For that drunken old man at the bar some weeks past- the one who’d just lost his wife. It was the first time I’d heard you sing, and there was something about it that had just…” Suddenly he pulled her out of the hug, pressing their foreheads together, “You didn’t spell me, did you?”

Despite her current mess of a face, she smiled a little, “Of course not. I can control my own voice, you know.”

He laughed then, enough to make his small smile increase to a dazzling grin, “I have no doubt.”

“So… what happens now? Do we, uh, kiss or something?”

“If you have no objections, I would very much like to kiss you.”

“.... Definitely not.”

What happened next was a kiss that made her forget about the blood on her hands, and the scars inside her that would soon heal in time.

- honestly like, the last thing on his mind. with everything that went down in the last three years you really think he gives any sort of shit about you wanting to fuck?

-his primary concern has been if you’re currently breathing or not- if you can function happily and easily as a person.

-kind of lost hope of you ever loving him again, tbh, so sex isn’t even something he considered possible at this point 

-so when you do kiss him and tell him that you love him? amazing. absolutely fantastic. you love him still even after knowing about the past?? knowing everything he guilty feels about?? more then he dared to hope for. there isn’t anything else he could ask for that would make him more happy than that simple fact.  

- Doesn’t do much else other than kiss you without asking. not even that, at the beginning. will try to tease you into kissing him though- like when you went to nopal “this is the sweetest thing i’ve ever tasted… second sweetest ;)

- embarrassingly big tease. would stop if it made you uncomfortable though.

- very consent heavy; asks if you’re okay all the time. it can get a bit flustering honestly, cause he’ll point out obvious things; like “you’re blushing pretty hard/ you’re hearts beating fast- are you okay?”

- he can get pretty anxious about how you’re feeling, so the ability to share your thoughts and emotions with each other is a life saver. less awkward conversations. yay

-this babe is hella touch starved. so he’s always got some point of contact with you. holding your hand. hugging you, pulling you into his lap to cuddle. cuddling is his favorite lazy past time

- and naps especially naps with you. 

-please play with his hair. it’s best when he can rest his head on your chest while you read and run your hands through his hair. usually falls asleep.  

- probably already knows your boundaries, you were together before the plague and hammed things out then.

- still can reaffirm things now tho

-almost hyper aware of them at first. any wrong move on his part used to give you those awful headaches. so he’s used to being careful

-only really touches your arms/neck/ face

-if you want more you’re gonna have to tell him or put his hands where you want them yourself. 

-can roll with anything you want pretty well. he is just happy to have you in his arms. his main goal is making you feel good, so ask him and hes gonna do his best to deliver  (and his best is pretty good)

-curious about having sex but unsure if you wanna go all the way? no worries. you guys develop a signal for when things become Bad/boring/uncomfortable. always asks before moving onto something else 

-seems like the type of person to be pretty talkative, so nothings a big surprise anyway. (ex. where should i kiss you first? your face? your neck?)

-when it does go bad he’s quick to reassure you he isn’t disappointed with you

-when/if you do anything he always makes sure it feels very safe and comfortable. remembers what you liked in the past so there is barely any awkward mistakes 

-almost always does the whole ‘emotional connection’ thing so even simple foreplay acts can be quite the Experience  

-feel more comfortable on top bc you want the control of the situation?  -\_(ツ)_/¯.works for him, he loves the feeling of your hands. tells you what to do if you dont really know

- even more cuddly than usual after. 

- if you dont want anything and are worried about being boring and having nothing to offer. he’s quick to deny that. you are his best friend and favorite travel partner. he wont have you thinking that way. 

It’s a simple cold night in Vesuvia, and while there’s no snow to be accounted for, the chill that rattles those that step outside is unmistakable. Thankfully, the warm fire roaring in the corner and the blanket over top of her and Julian kept her warm enough that Gloria forgot about the cold. The comforting smell of snickerdoodles lingered on him, and she was glad for the silence.

Until Julian moved his head to speak.

“Gloria,” he begins, “I don’t believe I’ve ever asked you, but…” she raises her head from his chest to meet his gaze, and suddenly his words fumble, face flushing red, “Um… do you have any favourite Christmas stories?”

Gloria cocks an eyebrow. “Christmas stories?”

“You know, like…. stories with your family from around the holidays,” he continues, and the corner of her lips lift in a smirk.

“Oh, like your story of how you set your cape on fire lighting the menorah with Portia?”

“Of course you remember that story,” he chides, rubbing her head, and she bursts into giggles… and then she falls silent, biting her lip in thought.

“Well…. I mean….” she hums, scrunching her face, “I don’t remember my family, and I can’t think of anything involving Asra…. but I do know a story, related to Christmas.” Scooting closer to his warmth, she lifts her arms from the blanket. “If you wanna hear it, that is.”

His soft smile told her the answer to that.

Julian always loved when she told stories, and tonight was no exception. Gloria’s face broke into a grin, leaning up to give him a quick kiss before returning her attention to her arms.

“This is a story of a man, who’s ideals were completely changed over the course of one Christmas,” she begins, “But this isn’t your typical Christmas story.”

“Why not?” Julian asks, watching sparkling, golden light fall from her fingertips.

Gloria smirks. “Because it involves ghosts.”

His eye widens as the light starts to take shape into what he assumes is the main character of the tale. A hobbly old man, donning a top hat and cane, wearing a flowing coat, barely five inches tall, glowers at Julian’s close gaze, before lifting his cane and whacking the doctor’s beaked nose with it.

“Humbug!” he squeaks, shaking his cane. Julian rubs his nose, retracting his face, and Gloria giggles.

“Hush now, Ebenezer,” she chides him, and the figure puts his hands on his hips, “Julian, darling, be careful with him.”

“He should be careful with me,” the doctor responds with a frown, and Gloria giggles again in response.

“Anyway… Julian, Ebenezer Scrooge. Mr. Scrooge, Julian Devorak. Now, be a good old man.” Little Scrooge’s frown deepens, and Gloria waves her hand again, setting the scene. More golden light shapes and forms, until Julian is looking out over a bustling street, stuffed with brick buildings and snow, decorated from head to foot in Christmas-y glory.

“We start in a northern town, on a little island known for its finery, many years ago,” Gloria begins, “It’s Christmastime, and the air is filled with excitement. People are merry, the shoppers bustle through the town, others come home to their families…” and she starts laughing, seeing a small group of carolers made of gold light start singing something in Latin, “and songs fill the street from every corner!”

“It’s beautiful, dear,” Julian smiles, turning his head to look at her, “You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“Thanks, Julie.” With a wink, however, she added, “but you’re not getting a kiss until after the story is done. Helps me focus.” When he gives her a joking pout, she lightly punches his arm and returns her attention to the scene, waving her hand again. The street whirls around in a shower of sparkling light, until it shows the inside of a counting house. Little Scrooge sits hunched over a desk, counting coins in tiny golden towers, while another little person sits at a smaller desk, furiously scribbling away with his quill. With a start, he turns and waves at Gloria and Julian, who wave back, before Scrooge snaps.

“Cratchit!” says the old miser in a high pitched, nasally voice. Cratchit, shoulders slumping, returns to his scribbling.

“Mr. Scrooge is the embodiment of all things anti-Christmas,” Gloria continues, “the absolute worst of them all. Hates everything to have to do with the season.”

“Why?”

“No one knows for sure. However, even he keeps Christmas in some happy remark, for it was on this very day, seven years ago, that his former business partner, Jacob Marley, died and left him the counting house. More money for him to have, you see. And Bob Cratchit is someone who works for him- a good man, working to earn a meager salary to support his family.”

Julian watches the door to Scrooge’s counting house open, and a younger man enters, jovial in his high pitched voice.

“Scrooge’s nephew Fred,” his love explains, “nearly the complete opposite, invites Scrooge to Christmas dinner. The miser declines,” Scrooge does so, “calling Christmas a-”

“HUMBUG!” Scrooge squeaks out again as Fred exits the store. Gloria gestures to him.

“... Well, you know.”

Julian listens in as two more men, seeking donations for the poor, enter the shop, only to be dismissed in a similar fashion by Scrooge, before a small bell chimes. Cratchit and Scrooge rise, and start to leave, as Gloria changes the scene again.

“It’s Christmas eve, you see,” she explains again as the light whirls up and around, “one of the few nights that Cratchit can take off of from his job a little early. But Scrooge still wants him there the next day, bright and early, like normal, despite the Christmas festivities.”

“What an ass.” Julian interjects.

“I know!” she agrees.

Finally, it settles on Scrooge sitting in his bedroom, dressed in nightclothes, eating. Before taking another bite of what Julian assumed was soup, the old man looks up and frowns at the pair.

“Young love,” he chides, “bah! You both should be doing something useful with your lives!”

“Can I please squash him?” Julian begs with a wince, “He’s starting to sound like Lucio…”

“No, you are not squashing Scrooge!” Gloria reprimands, watching the small man suddenly bolt behind his wingback chair. “Look at that, you spooked him!”

“It wasn’t old bird beak over there!” Scrooge calls, before pointing a gnarled finger at the now shaking door in his room. The magician jumps suddenly.

“Right, right! Anyway, it was Christmas Eve, nearing closer and closer to midnight, and Scrooge was about to have a visitor.” Julian watched her grin turn nearly evil, and he had to squish down the desire to kiss her right then and there. “A visitor of the supernatural kind.”

Suddenly there was a high pitched wail from behind him, and Julian turned his head sharply, only to duck as a small golden specter flew right for his head, chains rattling and boxes dragging behind him.

“Whoa!”

Gloria burst into laughter as the ghost floated around above the set, only pausing for a jolted moment to wave at her. “Hello Mr. Marley. Nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you, Miss Morgenstern!” And then he continued on his wailing journey, before bursting through Scrooge’s bedroom door.

“That’s Marley?” Julian asked, raising his head.

“Well, he has been dead for seven years at this point.” She says with a shrug of her shoulders. Turning back to the story, she goes on, “Marley arrived from beyond the grave to warn Scrooge about his otherworldly fate. If Scrooge didn’t change his ways, he would be doomed to eternity to be just like Marley- covered in chains and boxes as a wandering spirit.”

“I wear the chain I forged in life!” Marley calls, “Do you know the weight and length of the chain you bear, Ebenezer?”

“And with that, Marley says that he will send three spirits to help Scrooge on his journey of self discovery. But first, he has to be a dramatic little bugger about it.”

Marley looks up at her first, hopeful, and Scrooge follows, eyes wide with fear.

“May I?” Jacob asks, and Gloria nods.

“Julie, you may want to duck.”

“Again?” The doctor asks, “Not more ghosts-”

Suddenly Marley wails again, and several more spirits made of Gloria’s golden light- all wearing chains, each different in appearance, come from behind, and Julian yells, ducking down, before the spirits swirl around him. A little lady ghost even whacked his nose with a mirror on her chain, before floating over to Gloria.

“You really can pick ‘em!” She says, before floating off to the set. And suddenly, Julian laughs, seeing an all too familiar tiny ghost floating around, wrapped up in chains, bearing a false, shimmering golden left arm.

“They’ll never survive without me!” cries tiny Ghost Lucio, rolling around from his wrapped up chains. “They’ll never forget me! Untie me!”

“Never on your life,” says another gentleman ghost who floats by, “you’re awfully rude.”

Lucio inchworms down to the set, and the other ghosts, with Marley in tow, begin to spiral around Scrooge, who screams and makes a break for it, diving into his bed- and with a glittering golden poof, they’re gone.

“And the bell tolls one,” Gloria says, satirically sollem. Julian snorts, watching little Scrooge shake in his bed. The candle on the table in front of them suddenly started to glow and mold, until, emerging from the wax, came a spirit in what appeared to be a ballet costume of some kind. They were thin, with curly hair that hung just below their ears, with a halo of gold on their head. More lit candles adorned this halo, and three lit candles were attached to each of their arms. As they twirled around, more wax dripped from the edge of their tutu. Scarily wide eyes glowed like open flames, but the spirit themself seemed kind. With a noise akin to bells chiming, they floated up between the pair of lovers, bowing gracefully.

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past,” they said, rising. “Apologies if I startled you.”

“No need,” Gloria says, “It’s good to see you again, Past.”

“This isn’t Asra…” They realize suddenly, floating closer to Julian, who blinks owlishly. “Who are you?”

“J-Julian.” He responds, going cross eyed to see the little ghost.

“My boyfriend,” Gloria whispers excitedly, and as Julian blushes, Past’s aura glows a bit brighter.

“In that case, I simply must put on a good show!”

As they float away towards Scrooge, Julian looks back at Gloria. “D-did you just call me…”

“Yes,” she reaches up to kiss his reddening cheeks, “because it’s true.”

“Darling, if you do that again, I don’t think I’ll be able to listen to the rest of the story…”

“Alright, I’ll stop the story, if it’s what you want.”

“No, keep going. I want to find out what happens. I… I can wait.”

“Good choice!” exclaims Past, and Julian jumps, “I don’t want to go away yet! I just got here!”

“Get on with it!” Scrooge interjects from under his bedcovers, and Gloria snorts, rolling her eyes and turning back to the set.

“My apologies. Anyway…. As the bell tolled one, the Ghost of Christmas Past,” said ghost did a sudden, perfect pirouette, “appeared in Scrooge’s bedroom, rousing him from the meager amount of sleep he had managed to achieve.”

“Take my hand,” Past said, offering one wax coated hand to Scrooge, who, reluctantly, grabbed it. With a giggle from the ghost and a cry of fear from the old man, they took to the sky, and Gloria waved her hand again, watching the scene change. The two flew around the shop, nearly running into everything. Even with Scrooge on their hand, Past managed to perform a little ballet routine near perfectly, with Scrooge’s long, old legs stumbling behind. Julian laughed at the display, before the scene set in front of them again. And with each word Gloria spoke, the characters complied, and the scene changed- much like a little theatre.

“To help Scrooge grow in his character, they visited past Christmases- his past Christmases, in fact. Scrooge had been neglected as a child, and had a little sister, who died at a young age, but not before she had a son.”

“Then that Fred fellow was her son, I take it.”

“Yep.” A small pause to wink at him for getting the answer right, “And then, years later, Scrooge became apprenticed by a man named Fezziwig, who was a jovial old chap, and at one of his parties… he fell in love.”

The scene set before them, however, was of a high spirited party. A rotund man spun what Julian assumed was his wife around, and the audience clapped and cheered as they danced. A mad fiddler worked his bow strings furiously with a small band, and people laughed and drank.

“You want to dance, Julian?” Gloria asked suddenly, and he laughed.

“We wouldn’t fit!”

“Yes, but we can still hear the music.” Suddenly grabbing his arm, she pleaded, “Please, Ilya?”

Oh God, not the Ilya card. She always pulled that to weaken his resolve, and he was always weak to it… of course, the cries from the small party crowd of “Dance wit her, man!” “C’mon, y’ old haggard!” “Le’s see if them long legs o’ yers are good fer more than bein’ tall!” weren’t helping either, and finally, he sighed.

“Alright, alright.”

Gloria brightened, giggling and rising from the blanket they had engulfed themselves in, and Julian followed. He heard Fezziwig clap his hands, and the little band started their tune up again. With a sudden devilish grin, he grabbed Gloria by the hand, pulling her in close and twirling her around. The magician squealed and laughed, her feet dangling at his shins as he lifted her, one arm around his waist and the other in his hand. The little crowd cheered, and suddenly between the taller two floated Christmas Past and Scrooge, who were dancing on their own- Past more enthusiastically than the old miser, who was once again forced to stumble behind, shouting bloody murder at the top of his lungs. They both laughed, dancing along to the small band’s song, until it began to slow, and so did their dance, until it stopped, and they both stood there, gazing into each other’s eyes. Julian moved first, laying his lips over hers, his hand sliding to hold her face, and Gloria’s other hand moved to hug his waist.

“No mistletoe required, huh?” she laughs when he pulls away, and he rubs their noses together.

“It never is, my darling.”

With a dreamy sigh, she regrettably slipped out of his arms, sliding down to hold his hands. “C’mon. Before they all start yelling at me to get on with it again.”

As the two settled back on the couch, Julian was shocked to find a dizzy Scrooge leaning on Christmas past, watching a different scene completely unfold.

“I release you, Ebenezer.” said the girl sitting in front of the desk of the young Scrooge. And with a whirl of her dress, she was gone.

“Oh… right.” Gloria clears her throat, settling the blanket back on top of them. “Ebenezer had managed to fall in love, but as the years waned on from that, money became more important. Eventually, money became the only thing that mattered to him anymore.”

“I don’t wish to see more of this!” Old Scrooge called out, and with a sad look, Past snapped their fingers, taking to the sky again. As the scene set back to Scrooge’s bedroom, the ghost floated up to the couple, bowing again.

“You did beautifully, Past.” Gloria praised, and Julian swore he saw them blush at the compliment.

“Yes, indeed,” he added suddenly, “it was a lovely performance.”

“Thank you both, very much!” And with a wave goodbye, they burst into flame, vanishing. The clock stuck again, two this time.

“And so the clock strikes two,” Julian speaks again, with the funny solemnity of Gloria earlier. She giggles.

“Don’t steal my job along with my heart, darling!”

Suddenly, Scrooge’s room expanded, and fading into view was a mound of food. Christmas carols played on a small orchestra rang out, and a booming laugh, though still high in pitch, echoed through the set. A man came into view, wearing a green robe, and bearing an immeasurably long amount of ginger hair, which floated up around his head like a halo. A single candle floated in the middle of it, and holly decorated the entire ponytail. He had a cheerful, lined face, and his robe reminded the doctor of the white shirt he was currently donning.

“A bit of a low cut for a ghost, is it not?” Julian teased, and Gloria grinned.

“I can’t help what he wears.” They watched the spirit grab a staff of oak wood and garland, where a single emerald glowed at the top, and she waved. “Hello Christmas Present!” “Merry Christmas, Miss Morgenstern!” He called, waving back. “Good to see you again!”

“Good to see you too!”

Scrooge entered the room then, and Gloria began the narration.

“The Ghost of Christmas present,” she said, “there’s a new one every year, supposedly, but this is the one that always works with me. To help Scrooge better himself, he takes the man around to Christmases currently happening.”

“Touch my robe,” the spirit said to Scrooge, and the old man does. Much like they had with Christmas Past, the two rose into the air as the set spun around, before it settled on a little house, hardly bigger than the main room of Asra’s shop.

“Oh!” Julian exclaimed as Scrooge and Present settled into the set, and more characters started appearing. “Isn’t that Cratchit?”

“Yea! This is his house,” Gloria explained, “And this is his family.” She leaned in suddenly, cupping a hand over his ear and whispering, “And you see that tiny kid with the crutch? That’s Tiny Tim. He’s important, so pay attention.” As she drew away, Julian nodded vigorously.

“You have my word.”

“Great.” Cracking her knuckles, she settled into the story again. “Bob Cratchit’s family isn’t the best off, Scrooge notices first. And with a little help from Christmas Present, he realizes that poor Tiny Tim is destined to die if he doesn’t get the help he needs.”

“I see an empty chair by the fire,” speaks Christmas Present solemnly, “and a small crutch, carefully preserved.”

Suddenly Julian whips around to Gloria, who furrows her brows, “He doesn’t die, does he?”

“Hush, love! You’ll find out.” With a wiggle of her fingers, the set changes again. “The Christmas party of Fred, where they catch the household making fun of Scrooge. Not much happens here, only Scrooge realizing he could’ve been a better Uncle. And then….”

Another set change, and Christmas Present, once jolly, now looms over Scrooge, melancholy. Scrooge watches, horrified, as two small, scraggly children emerge from Present’s robe.

“Are they yours?” he asks, fearful and wide eyed.

“They are mans,” says the spirit, “this boy is ignorance, and this girl is want. Beware them both, but especially the boy.”

“.... Now I can see where this wouldn’t be considered a Christmas story,” Julian says, squinting down at the kids. Ignorance takes a swipe at him, and he keens, scrambling back to Gloria.

“I told you to be careful, Jules.”

“I’m just curious…”

Suddenly the two children lept at Scrooge, and the scene goes black for a moment- and rises, seeing Scrooge cowering alone, arms over his face, as the clock strikes three. The man slowly lowers them, before looking up behind him. Julian and Gloria look up too, and on a shadowy part of the wall, out melts a black, hooded finger, surrounded by black smoke… though, less intimidating, as they were about seven inches tall. Gloria grips Julian’s arm excitedly as the spirit descends upon the stage.

“This is my favourite part,” she whispers to him, as the Ghost cranes their head to up the couple. “Hi Christmas Future! Good to see you haven’t changed.”

There was a beat, and the Ghost raised a single skeletal hand, waving slightly, before turning their attention back to Scrooge.

“The Ghost of Christmas Future, or Christmas Yet To Come,” Gloria narrates again, hand never leaving Julian’s arm, “The final spirit of the night, here to show Scrooge the consequences of his current actions. This is the real climatic part of the story, just you wait.”

Rather than taking to the air, Christmas Future raises a single, boney hand, and points to the other side of the scene, which melts away, golden light turning into black and white.

“The Ghost shows Scrooge visions of uncaring gentlemen talking about the death of someone supposedly important,” Gloria continues, “Along with a joyous Fred, the Cratchits saddened by the death of Tiny Tim-” Julian gasps, bringing a hand over his mouth, and she squeezes his arm, “and Scrooge’s old maid selling off things to a pawnbroker. Along with… something else.”

The scene is completely black and white now, and the only thing on it, aside from Scrooge and Future, is a gravestone.

“That’s not…”

“It’s not Tiny Tim.”

“It can’t be… does that have Scrooge’s name on it?” Julian’s uncovered eye widens, and Scrooge suddenly cries out, lamenting to the Ghost before him.

“Scrooge begs to change, pleads with the Ghost. Christmas Future only points intensely at the grave as Scrooge grovels, until suddenly, as Scrooge falls into the grave….”

The scene swirls in a black shadow, until Gloria’s golden light takes over again- and there was Scrooge, tangled on his bed in the sheets, completely alive.

“... He awakes in his room, a changed man.”

Little Scrooge leaps up suddenly, dancing around his room and throwing on his coat and hat over his sleepwear, and running off. Gloria grins.

“And he really did change, you know,” she finishes, as the entire cast takes to the scene, “helping Tiny Tim being one of the first things he ever did on his changed path.”

The cast starts to bow, and Julian claps at them all, and with some final waves, the scene and characters vanish completely.

“What a lovely story,” Julian finally turns to face her, and she blushes.

“I know it’s not what you had in mind, but…”

Without hesitation, he leans in, wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her lips to his, a pleading noise echoing from the back of his throat. She retaliates, reaching up to cup his face. After several kisses, he finally pulls away, touching their foreheads together.

“Sorry… I couldn’t wait,” comes his sheepish grin, “But…. you don’t need to worry. It was perfect. It showed what Christmas means to you, much like what Hanukkah meant to me whenever I told you my stories. And I couldn’t be happier, my darling.”