#Christmas stories

[atomic-chronoscaph]

The Ghost of Christmas Present and The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come - art by John Leech (1843)

[stone-cold-groove]

Front cover of the children’s book, Christmas Magic - 1942.

[chibistarlyte]

every year on christmas eve, my boyfriend and i go over to his paternal grandparents' house and the whole family gathers and exchanges gifts and eats dinner, you know, the usual. and as the years have passed, his grandma's level of patience has dwindled as the family has grown.

so a couple years ago, after a few hours of visiting and eating and opening presents, she was tired of socializing and wanted everyone to go, so she announced to the whole room, "i've enjoyed about as much of you people as i can stand" and made everyone leave

i can't think of a holiday moment more iconic than that

[adventuresofalgy]

Algy was resting quietly near the edge of the forest, preparing to set off in search of his way home, when a large post bird swept into sight, flew around and around over Algy's head, and then dropped a book at his feet before flying off to make its next delivery.

Slightly taken aback, for he had no idea that anyone knew where he was, Algy picked up the book and found that it was his very own children's book, The Magical Midwinter Star, which had just been reissued in paperback with a new cover design.

Algy was fond of this story, especially at this time of year, for it reminded him of his difficult and sometimes dangerous quest to bring light and joy back to the darkness in his very first northern winter, years ago… He recalled the song, sung by a choir of tiny mice, that he had heard on the edge of just such a forest as this one, and the beautiful, magical star he had seen at that time:

By the light of the Midwinter Star, All the creatures would come from afar: To the trees that were green When all others were bare, And they picked out the prettiest Tree that was there, By the light of that magical star. By the light of the Midwinter Star, All the creatures would come from afar: With soft wool and shells And bright things they had found, They dressed the green tree Where it stood in the ground, By the light of that magical star. They dressed up that tree Till it glittered so bright That the birds and the animals Sang with delight, Then they all danced around it Throughout the long night, As the star shone above them So sparkling and white. If you travelled the world Just as far as you might, You never could see A more marvellous sight Than the dance of the forest On Midwinter Night, By the light of that magical star.

His discovery of the strange shiny objects in a rock pool, and his search in the depths of the Highland winter for a suitable tree to hang them on, had been quite an adventure! And it had very nearly ended in disaster… but happily, all was well in the end 😀

So Algy was delighted that the full story was available in paperback again, for it meant that if any of his friends around the world would like to read the story – or give the book to a child (or adult still young at heart!) – they would now be able to do so…

In order to make the book available to Algy's friends in many different countries around the world, it was necessary to use Amazon, and Algy apologises to those who would prefer to buy books elsewhere.

The Magical Midwinter Star – and Algy's other two titles in his series of illustrated children's chapter books Tales from the Adventures of Algy – can be bought from Amazon in most countries, in both paperback and Kindle ebook formats.

[zeldaelmo]

I wrote a lot of Christmas and winter-themed stories over the past few years, so I thought I'd make a list for everyone who wants to get in the mood or just needs something to read during the holidays.

Modern AU

Flour, Water, Salt, Yeast, Love - As a regular in Link's bakery, Zelda asks him for a favor for Hylia's day. A mistake leads to them fake-dating until at the end of the holidays neither of them knows what is fake and what is real anymore. (25 chapters)

One Stitch at a Time - Zelda is taking over the fabric store from her mother and struggles to balance traditions, new ideas, and financial problems. The last thing she needs in her sewing class is a guy who disagrees with her every word and threatens to ruin her favorite time of the year: Christmas. (24 chapters)

A Rare Find - Link tries to catch a rare Korok that only appears when it rains. He finds a cute girl instead who happens to be in need of a fake boyfriend to impress her ex.

The Thing with the Matching Christmas Sweaters - Zelda realizes at the last minute that her father bought the same Christmas sweater that she and Link have planned to wear on their engagement announcing pictures. Link... has his own solution to this problem.

link_inofficial_23 - Link keeps blogging about Princess Zelda's and his life as new parents. PR is not amused.

One Night in December - Link regrets all his life decisions when he agrees to watching Hallmark movies with his long-term crush Zelda and she picks one about old friends getting together. Of all things...

Believe - A down on his luck Link accidentally prays to a long forgotten goddess and sets things in motion he isn't prepared for.

AoC/BotW

The Art of Now - A little AU where Link really is just a random soldier like at the beginning of Age of Calamity.

Of Pines and Pining - Zelda is forced to join the Champions and Sheikah to decorate the Great Hall for Hylia's Day. Of course, Link does it all wrong: chaotic and messy. But then, Zelda gets carried away and accuses him of being a messy kisser and everything only gets even more chaotic from there.

Sneaky Snow Attack - Link is on guard duty for once and discovers an intruder he doesn't mind so much. Well, before the snowball hit him, obviously.

Dismissed - Just before his first home leave after the Calamity, Link learns that Zelda has dismissed him as her appointed knight for personal reasons. He's confused and sad and the very last thing he needs is his family getting on his nerves about it.

Twilight Princess

Close Enough - The one mistletoe story without a single mistletoe around.

Fairy Magic - Zelda overworks herself before Christmas and Link decides she needs a break.

Ocarina of Time

It may be winter outside (but in my heart it's spring) - Impa sneaks Link and Zelda out to have some fun in the snow. A winterly snapshot set in the child timeline.

General LoZ AU

The Pen Pal Plan - Princess Zelda is sick of being wooed for her beauty and nothing else, so when it's time to pick a suitor, she develops a plan. All suitors who want to court her must engage in a pen pal ship with her so that they can get to know each other without the eyes of the court on them.

After a year, the time has come to meet the most promising candidates at the winter fair and make her choice, but she quickly realizes, that her "Pen Pal Plan" has some pitfalls she hasn't anticipated and chaos ensues. It would be a shame if she missed the meeting with her favorite candidate of all things! At least the kind, blue-eyed guard is still there to help her reach the last date in time...

Merry Christmas and enjoy!

💞 Zelmo

[schweizercomics]

Companions of Christmas, Day 2: Mrs. Claus

Mrs. Claus was once better known by her given name, Alba. She was the nymph of the silver fir tree, a captain in the retinue of the Greek goddess Artemis, and she first met St. Nicholas when he came to do battle with her Lady.

Nick was on a campaign to destroy Artemis's shrines and temples in his Asia Minor diocese in order to keep the Christians in his flock from “backsliding” into paganism. In these attempts, he frequently had to fight Artemis and her retinue, including Alba.

Over the years, Nick and Alba often ran into each other on the same errands of mercy, coming to the aid of a child or creature in peril. Although both were pledged to see the other undone, they found themselves allies in these ventures, first reluctantly, then enthusiastically.

Over the course of many decades and many encounters, Alba came to fall in love with Nick because of his kindness, generosity, and, above all, his fierce devotion to and protection of children, which mirrored her own. And Nick fell in love with Alba because of her unwillingness to stand by while the weak were harmed, the patience with which she sought to understand those who were different from her (patience and tolerance both being virtues that Nick clearly needed a lot of help learning), and the unmitigated joy she took from the natural world and its wonders.

Alba brokered a peace between Nick and Artemis (who presented him with her famous flying deer as a sign of peace and a means by which to better undertake his mission), married Nick, and now stewards the great fir forests of the North Pole, acting as protector and champion to the many creatures who find sanctuary there.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Happy December, friends! Each year around this time I post up drawings of Christmas and other winter holiday figures, along with narratives to explain the practices with which folklorists and holiday buffs might be familiar. When stories exist, I use them; when they don't, I do what I can to piece together what folklore surrounds them to fill in the gaps (or, in some instances, defer to the theories of my friend and fellow narrative reconcilianist Benito Cereno). I hope you enjoy them!

[cliophilyra]

Unbake My Heart

Unadulterated tooth-rotting fluff for our holiday gift exchange - for the lovely Ruta - @gaybonesforivy Happy New Year my dear!! I hope you have a wonderful 2025 🥳 ❤️

It’s very short and very sweet but I like how it came out 😊

Read on AO3 or below

Watery winter sunlight filters though the gaps in the drapes, falling across Tommy's back. He stirs in his sleep, his hand moving across Buck's chest to rest over his heart. Buck smiles, resting a hand on top of Tommy's and kissing his head, looking down at him with a kind of disbelief. He's still here. He wasn't a dream, he didn't leave in the middle of the night. He stayed.

The last thing he'd expected, half way through baking his third loaf of bread yesterday evening, was for Tommy to turn up on his doorstep to talk, and for talking and tears and recriminations and apologies to turn to kisses and touches and more, happier tears. Even after Tommy had fallen asleep with his arms around him and his head on his chest, Buck had fought to stay awake as long as he could, looking down at his long eyelashes fanned against his cheeks, mapping the familiar muscles of his back with his fingers. Needing to memorize every sound, every breath, every tiny movement, just in case he woke to find himself alone again.

But here they are, the sun is up, it's officially tomorrow and Tommy is still here, sleeping peacefully, body heavy and relaxed in his arms. Buck grins to himself and presses his lips to his curls again, a kind of calm he hasn't felt in months settling into his bones.

Tommy hums to himself and runs his hand up Buck's neck, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "Morning," his voice is heavy and rough with sleep but he lifts his head to look up at Buck with a lazy smile, gorgeous blue eyes blinking slowly.

Buck takes his face in his hands and kisses him on the mouth, sliding his thumbs across his cheekbones. "Morning baby," he whispers. Joy and relief well up inside him and threaten to spill over. "Fuck I missed this so much," he murmurs. He knows he sounds a little choked up.

Tommy kisses him again, slow and sweet, and warmth spreads to the tips of his fingers and toes. "Oh sweetheart, I missed you more than I can ever say. I'm so sorry."

Buck raises a finger to Tommy's lips. "Hey-hey, it's ok, we talked about this, right? No more apologizing."

Tommy lets out a deep shaky breath and nods, pressing a kiss to his finger. Buck wraps his arms around his broad waist, fingers digging into his back and pulls him flush against his chest, tangling their legs together as he rolls them over and grins down at him, leaning in for another kiss, deeper this time.

As he begins to move down, trailing kisses, burying his face in Tommy's neck, chasing the comforting warmth and the familiar scent that makes his head spin, the unexpectedly loud sound of the doorbell makes them both jump.

Both of their heads turn toward the sound then back to each other. Tommy raises a questioning eyebrow. "Expecting someone?"

Buck shakes his head slowly in confusion but then realization dawns. "Shit!" he gasps, jumping out of the bed. "It's my sister! And Chim, and Jee! Fuck I forgot. I said I'd bake Christmas cookies with Jee today."

Tommy struggles to sit up, casting around for the clothes they'd left strewn across the stairs and the bedroom floor last night. Buck is halfway down the stairs in just his underwear before Tommy reminds him he probably needs to put pants on. He races back up, grabbing some sweatpants that are almost certainly Tommy's and dragging them on along with an LAFD t-shirt, and running back down, stumbling towards the door as the bell rings again.

"Hang on!" Tommy hisses. "Gimme a minute."

"No time!" Buck flings open the door with a too-wide grin that he's pretty sure makes him look slightly insane.

Maddie and Chim step back in surprise. "Took your time there Buckeroo - late night?" Chim grins, walking past him into the loft, handing over the grinning little girl in his arms.

Buck staggers a little as Jee wraps her arms around his neck and giggles when he pretends he can't hold her up. "Wow you're getting so big Jee!"

Maddie follows them in and puts a bag of Jee's stuff down on the kitchen table, squeezing Buck's arm as she passes.

"How're you doing?" she asks with a sympathetic smile.

Buck tries to school his face, not letting his glance cut towards the bedroom. He wonders where Tommy is hiding. Should he just…?

"I—" he starts.

"Have you used up all the flour in the state yet?" Chim asks.

Buck gives a weak smile, embarrassment crawling up his spine. He and Tommy might have talked through their issues but that doesn't mean he wants him to know exactly how pathetic he was without him.

"Ha. Yeah well, it's-it's Christmas. So…y'know…lots-lots of baking to do," he laughs awkwardly, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. Maddie gives him an odd look.

"Well I'm not complaining," Chim grins, opening Buck's fridge. "Not saying I want you to stay single and miserable forever," he says, grabbing two lemon loaves, "but you moping over Tommy does have it's perks for the rest of us."

The sound of someone clearing their throat upstairs has them all looking up with a start. Tommy is standing at the railing of the bedroom.

"Hey Howie," he says with a grin.

Maddie rounds on Buck, eyes wide, eyebrows up to her hairline.

"Uh—" Buck starts, blushing fiercely. "Surprise?"

Jee starts bouncing in his arms, reaching out with grabby hands. "Uncle Tommy!"

"Merry Christmas Buckley-Han's," Tommy says, walking down the stairs, sounding only slightly smug.

Maggie grins up at him while Chim lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Guess this means no more cake then?"

Tommy laughs as Jee launches herself from Buck's arms to his. "Oof—hi Princess Jee," he smiles, lifting her up. "I'm pretty sure we can make cookies instead, right Evan?" He leans over and presses a kiss to Buck's temple and Buck feels like his heart might explode.

[oldtvandcomics]

It is once again time to celebrate my favourite assassination attempt in literature history.

[litteratured]

Mark E Smith Reads An Xmas Story For BBC Collective

Mark E Smith of The Fall reads a Christmas ghost story exclusively for BBC Collective.

[thecheshirehouse]

Happy Holidays!

Happy Holidays from all of us here at The Cheshire House! Today, we merrily present four stories from the worlds of all our series — The Interstellar Sleuth, The Castaways of Ishiok, Disparate Minds, and Zadellin!

Twinkling with festive spirit, this beautiful artwork of Lotto the Interstellar Sleuth was created by Holly Lucero!

‘The Claus-Rosen Bridge’, originally released in Arcbeatle Press’s ‘The Book of the Snowstorm’ anthology last year, is now on The Cheshire House, accompanied with brand new artwork! The Interstellar Sleuth story, penned by Ostara Gale (@a-wartime-paradox) and edited by Aristide Twain (@aristidetwain), follows Interstellar Sleuth Lotto and his rabbit companion Mae as they traverse the Plume Coteries’ Library to thwart a mysterious malevolent figure and save Christmas!

The jolly cover of ‘Architects of a Failed World’ was drawn by Aristide Twain!

‘Architects of a Failed World’ is a brand-new tale in The Castaways of Ishiok, written by Thien Valdram, and edited by Ostara Gale and Aristide Twain. In this story, Abraytha and Xiantio encounter a scientist and their assistant who are investigating a strange, unsettling planet very far from home…

The yuletide cover for the new Disparate Minds collection, ‘Little GIfts’, was created by writer Plum Pudding!

‘Little Gifts’ is a collection of six vignettes around the world of Disparate Minds, all written by Plum Pudding, and edited by Ostara Gale and Aristide Twain. Due to [REDACTED], only five of these stories set around themes of change and holiday cheer are currently available. Follow the Idiots as they prepare for June's first Christmas in Avenue. 

This cover for ‘Our Bleak Midwinter’ was drawn by writer Theta Mandel (@theangelshavethephonebox)!

‘Our Bleak Midwinter’ was the first story to involve the crew of the good ship Zadellin, and was also originally published by Arcbeatle Press in ‘The Book of the Snowstorm’, though is rereleased today with new artwork! This tale by Theta Mandel, edited by Aristide Twain, follows a teenage girl as she strays from everything she knows to oppose a plan which could poison her very world, aided by three aliens on a mission to save their Ship with a broken heart.

You can find us at CheshireHouseStories on Instagram, Cheshire_House on X/Twitter, and thecheshirehouse on Bluesky. 

[videogamepolls]

Requested by anon

[loveyouloatheyou]

Pieces of Work: #3

The Last Dance

☆🩰°🎄°🎭☆

1.2k words

(got my writing ✨️MOJO✨️ back)

(There were MANY complications posting this)

☆☆☆

The theater lights grow dim as closing time arrives, with it, the custodian armed with his cleaning equipment. The theater seats have long been reduced to vacancy, the only sign of previous life being the muddied shoe prints, originally muddied snow. Whistling a faint tune, he rolled his mop bucket onto the vast opulent stage, the creaking of his wheels reverberating throughout the theater.

He continued to hum the faint tune as he had throughout the day. The tune was foreign, only occurring to him in the moment he began to hum it. 'Where had he heard such a tune from?' He thought to himself as his mop danced across the stage. Matching the sway of his mop, he began to twist and turn almost as though dancing, his mop his partner, and his humming his music.

'Where had he learned to dance like this again?' He thought to himself, finally admitting that he was in fact dancing. Slowly, his mind drifted into a reverie. Gentle hands took his own guiding his every move. Her tone was gentle and patient, every instructed word she spoke coming out calm. Her smile never faltered even when he continued to trip over himself stepping on her pointed toes. She simply laughed, the cadence of it forming a warm and kind melody.

As he closed his eyes, he swayed the way she had taught him, turned the way he had seen her do many times. At one point, he felt as though she was really there, guiding his every movement from afar. What would she have said if she saw him now? How the left footed dancer now held the grace of a swan, no longer as ungainly as he was before.

His reverie abruptly came to a halt at that. What could have, what should have, was no more. Anya Dubois was of no more. Nothing but the memory of others carried her on. The night of her death still remained as vivid as the night it happened.

Anya had been a dancer at the Le Théâtre des Lumières for nearly a year. She practiced day and night on the very stage he stood on. It wasn't long until the vigorous dancer would come into contact with the custodian. Their unforeseen friendship bloomed, growing within every night they shared on stage. Le Théâtre des Lumières no longer seemed so vacant at night, as Anya would always be there to accompany him much as he would her.

As the nights passed, so did the months. He never intended to learn to dance, but Anya was persistent.

"If you're not on a stage to perform, then you shouldn't be on a stage at all." She would say extending a welcoming hand forward. As persistent as she was, she was also patient. Although she had originally invited him to dance simply for the fun of it, she truly believed he had what it took to perform.

The dances they'd share were never silent. the grand piano would not play, and there were no speakers to emanate music. The lighthearted dances engulfed by laughter was adequate enough. The joy they shared would soon be short lived.

Twas the night before Christmas, and much like every other night, Anya waltzed onto the stage beaming. He had hardly uttered a greeting before he was engulfed by her buoyancy in the form of a hug.

"I've done it, all our dreams have come true!" Her whimsical demeanor was palpable, nearly suffocating.

Dedication and patience had ultimately earned her the lead role of The Nutcracker. He had disregarded his duties and danced with her nearly all night after being informed. The vivid smile she expressed, the smile he returned, it felt as though they were dancing on air, as though they were clouds itself, and nothing could bring them down. But much like all good things, joy was temporary.

Anya dropped dead on Christmas day. Being given a once and a lifetime role, practice was mandatory. So she did just that. She practiced, and practiced, and practiced. She did not stop to rest, she did not stop to breathe. Her mind was on autopilot, the repetitive instructions to dance never ceased.

By evening, she had waltzed onto the stage, and had fallen off, her body colliding with the ground emanating an echoing thud. She did not rise again.

After her demise, her name was only ever spoken in whispers. Her many feats were never mentioned. Her dedication to Le Théâtre des Lumières was never spoken of. Eventually, even her name had withered. She was notoriously known as 'The Dancing Phantom, The Woman Who Danced Herself to Death.' and even that was no longer remembered.

He sighed at the mournful recollection. He hadn't danced since her death. He didn't think he ever would. He yearned for the ceasing of silence, yearned for the music they created entirely out of their joy, yearned for the music he would never hear or make again.

A final dance was all he yearned for. To share one last dance with his beloved.

A hand, pale and thin, extended itself from the shadows of the spotlight. Amidst the dark the hand was without a body. He stared, blinked, and rubbed his eyes. The hand did not vanish. It remained as it was, patiently waiting in the dark.

As grim as it appeared to be, there was a sense of familiarity. He disregarded caution, relinquishing his grip on his mop, and exchanging it for the alluring hand. Slowly, yet not hesitantly, his hand met with the other.

A sound, faint at first, made itself apparent. A key from the grand piano began to play. Stepping out of the shadows, the hand revealed who it had belonged to. Anya Dubois smiled at her companion. Inundated by bewilderment, she led him forward as more piano keys began to play.

The song was slow, but even with the reduced tempo, he still found familiarity in the melody. It was the Final Waltz and Apotheosis, the song Anya never danced to. Guiding his movements, she extended his arms, swirled him round, and steered him into the right movements. The dance-less years had left him stiff, but her guidance was like oil on his rusted gears.

He followed her every movement as he once did before, their slow dance becoming more free with every twist and turn of their bodies. Although they did not speak, much was said. It could be heard in the keys of the piano, the curves of their smiles, and the liberation of their dance.

The air beneath his feat grew faint, with each step he took he felt himself rise higher and higher. Surpassing the ceiling of the theater, surpassing the roof of the exterior, they danced among the clouds engulfed by the melody they shared. All was well, and well was all.

He hadn't noticed the music grow faint, hadn't noticed the ground grow solid, hadn't noticed his love slowly slipping away as the song came to an end. In the theater, he stood alone. Glancing at the disregarded mop, he retrieved his equipment and called it a night. Whether reality or hallucination, he was glad she had shared his final dance with him.

As the creaking of his wheels grew faint in the distance, the stage spotlight flickered off, a silhouette disappearing with the light.

The End 🎄🩰🎭

(Thank you for bearing with me and this rush of a Christmas story 🙏🙏🙏)

[stone-cold-groove]

The Littlest Snowman. Wonder Books - 1976.

[iwanttobepersephone]

Okay I was talking to my brother and now I'm curious. What's your favorite Christmas memory and did it actually have anything to do with Christmas? I'll share mine first

One day when I was 10, my brother was sleeping at his friends house and I got permission to sleep on the couch. I was sorta falling asleep when my mom walked out of her room and said "Hey, I want dairy queen, do you want dairy queen?" So, at 10 pm, we went out in our pajamas to the Dairy Queen drive through. We got vanilla ice cream, fries, and some chicken and gravy. We ate in the parking lot while the Christmas radio played quietly in the background and laughed about random things and had fun together. My absolute favorite Christmas memory of all time, and in the end, it had nothing to do with Santa Claus or Christmas presents or anything like that. Idk. I wanna hear people's stories

[adventuresofalgy]

Algy hopped up into a convenient Scots pine tree, well away from the cold, wet snow on the ground, and settled down to read his very own adventure tale The Magical Midwinter Star, which had just been reissued in paperback.

Algy turned page after page, excitedly going back in his mind to that past adventure from his very first winter in the wild west Highlands of Scotland, and he became so engrossed in his own story that he failed to notice that the magic pumpkin lantern, which he had balanced carefully on a branch between his feet, had once more transformed itself into a candle.

As the flame began to glow, Algy was in the middle of the chapter called Snow. Oh No! in which he decided that he would have to brave the dangers of the deep midwinter to search for a very special tree. Reaching the bottom of page 40 he read:

“When I was chatting with Wee Katie,” Algy said hesitantly, “she told me that, once upon a time, the creatures round here used to have a big party in the middle of the winter, to cheer everyone up when it was so cold and dark. She called it a hootenanny.” “A hootenanny!” echoed Mr Voles excitedly. “And when I asked Ruaridh if he knew what the silvery balls might be,” Algy continued, “young Flòraidh sang me some verses from an old song about a green tree and the Midwinter Star.” “The Midwinter Star,” Mr Voles murmured dreamily. “The Midwinter Star.” “The song mentioned dressing up the tree with pretty things,” said Algy, “but Ruaridh said that no one has done that for ages, because the old pine tree blew down.” “Quite so,” rasped Roni. “Quite so,” echoed Mr Voles regretfully. “Quite so.” Roni hopped over to the edge of the Singing Place and perched on the bare rock, staring intently at Algy. “Go on,” she rasped. “Go on!” echoed Mr Voles breathlessly. “Go on!” “Well, I was thinking” said Algy. “I thought that maybe, if I could find a suitable tree somewhere, I could use the silvery objects I found – I mean the baubles – to decorate it, and then we could all have a grand midwinter hootenanny like they did in the old days.” “A fine idea, in principle,” rasped Roni. “A fine idea!” agreed Mr Voles, jumping up and down beside Algy’s foot.

[Algy is reading his own illustrated children's chapter book The Magical Midwinter Star, which together with the other books in the series Tales from the Adventures of Algy is available from Amazon in most countries of the world.]

[lumosinlove]

Christmas Eve Will Find Me

Four: Finn

Somewhere Between Christmas Markets and Heartbreak

Athens, Greece

Christmas was waking back up all around them. Finn felt Sirius’ eyes on him as he went up to an old woman heating pots of spicy smelling tea while another woman set up their stand. Her smile was rather toothless and her eyes were the sparkling kind of joyful. She gifted Finn a cup with a small spoonful of sugar, pushing away his money and putting a hand to his cheek.

You can charm anyone, Finn heard Logan say. Mon Rouge…mon bijou. Une perle.

“Sad,” the woman said in English, swiping a gentle thumb beneath Finn’s eye—he was sure he looked terrible then. Sleepless and red-eyed. “No more.”

Finn’s throat closed up all over again. “Thank you.”

He turned back to their group, watching his breath mix with the steam. The tea was good. Not to sweet and full of clove and cardamon. He felt it try to thaw out the center of his chest that rung with who are you, who are you?

There wasn’t really any point in denying it. For whatever reason, Logan hadn’t known who he was. He hadn’t recognized the number—or he had? Logan had called Finn. He had called Finn, only to ask who is this? Who is this?

Finn wasn’t sure what they were looking for, or how walking around the city was going to help them find Logan and Remus—especially if Logan and, maybe, Remus, didn’t even know them. Finn had to stop walking and close his eyes against the swaying, sickening sadness. He just wanted him back. Before, it had been the most horrible need, but now it might be even worse.

“Warm enough?” Leo asked, falling in at his side.

Finn didn’t bother opening his eyes right away. Leo had already seen.

“Yep,” Finn said. He sighed and looked over at him. “Yeah.”

“The tea is good?”

Finn nodded. He took a sip and let the spices give that chunk of ice another good knock. Nothing.

“I’m sorry none of us could have prepared you for that.”

“What,” Finn began. “The love of my life not knowing me?”

“Well—yes.”

“I’m not sure anything could have prepared me for that.”

Leo’s mouth pulled to the side. “Right…”

“Le,” James called. He was standing with Sirius by a cafe table and gazing up across the street. Finn followed their eyes. A security camera.

“This is where Sirius saw…” Finn began.

“Possibly,” Leo said. “Be right back.” He put a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “And don’t wander.”

Finn watched him cross. Guilt tugged at him. Leo had pressed himself all along Finn’s back last night, trying to stop him shivering. It seemed useless. Finn had shaken himself to sleep, gripping onto Leo’s hand. It had scared him, the tremors. He’d accidentally called Leo—

What’s wrong with me, Lo? he’d said through clenched teeth.

It’s shock, Leo had whispered. He hadn’t commented on the mistake, just held Finn tighter. Maybe he’d been holding Finn together. Finn hadn’t even woken again when Leo slipped out of bed for his turn to go on watch.

Finn too another sip of tea. Another attempted thaw. He caught a glimpse of his wedding ring and then couldn’t seem to look away.

The church was hushed as they entered together. Finn was glad he was holding onto Logan’s arm, glad he had Logan to lead him, because he couldn’t take his eyes off Logan’s face. In his dark green suit, he was gorgeous. Winter, Christmas, green, frozen pond, strength.

Logan’s mouth had fought a smile. “Don’t trip us up.”

Finn couldn’t even remember what music had played. Only holding Logan’s hands at the alter. His brother Alex’s happy brown eyes as he’d handed them the rings. A squeeze to his shoulder.

They knew Logan had—died. God, what would Finn say now? He shook himself, he tried to hold onto the memory. Logan’s hands had been so warm, leaning down to kiss the ring he’d just slipped on Finn’s fingers and drawing awes from the audience. Finn felt tears in his throat. He brought his own fist, the cold gold, to his lips.

In sickness and in health. For better and for worse. For richer and for poorer.

In memory and, what? Forgetting?

Until parted by death. Finn had done no such thing. No part of him had been severed from Logan when he’d thought he was dead. He’d simply been dragged, by his very soul possibly, there with him. It didn’t matter that he had been walking around and talking. He felt very much, upon hearing Logan’s voice, that he’d just taken his first breath in months.

Leo had told him not to wander, but Finn needed to look at something else other than his own mind.

Down a very narrow street, just a few steps away from where the others were gathered, a small bookshop rested, closed just then. It looked like it had been built right into the city’s stones itself. Finn walked towards its window display and crouched to read the Greek titles. Beautiful typography, even if he couldn’t read it. He could see the way the shelves turned and folded into a maze within. If he looked past his own faint reflection in the window—God, he did look horrible—he could see him and Logan there. He could pretend. He could turn the shop lights on in his mind and feel Logan’s hand in his. Logan would have let him drag him around the shelves. Would have pressed him up against one and kissed him. What Finn would do to feel the way Logan kissed again.

And then the memory snapped. The lights turned off and Finn shivered.

Something cold was pressing against the back of his head.

Finn didn’t know how, but he knew it was a gun.

“I told you to stop trying to find me.”

Logan’s voice was right behind him. Finn’s mouth parted. His eyes unfocused, shifting away from the shop’s interior and zeroing back in on his own reflection. His own surprised brown eyes. He looked up. Up, slow, up…

Standing behind him in the window’s watery mirror, there he was.

After months. Months of thinking he was dead. In the pale, grey light of the window, Logan looked unreal. A ghost, completely imagined. No hat, brown hair curling against his neck. Even like this, his eyes were vividly green. Black coat. His gun against the back of Finn’s neck, where Logan had kissed him so many times. Finn dropped the tea. It burned his knee through his jeans but he could hardly feel it.

Slowly, Finn began to turn his head.

The gun dug into his skull. “Don’t move.”

But Finn did. He dropped to his knees. He put his hands up and he turned. Logan could shoot him if he really thought he should. But in that case Finn needed to see him one last time.

“I said stop,” Logan said, but he let Finn turn. The gun was right at his chest now. Logan. Logan had a gun on him, and he was looking at Finn with an expression that Finn had never seen before or at least didn’t remember. Logan hadn’t looked at Finn like he didn’t know anything about him since that first handshake back at college. Ten years of knowing each other inside out and suddenly there was this. Tanned skin, broad shoulders.

“Logan,” Finn said. He didn’t know where this courage was coming from. Logan didn’t recognize him. For all Finn knew, Logan would shoot. “It’s me.”

Hesitation. At least Finn could still read that on Logan’s face.

“You’re Logan,” Logan said. “The phone number. I…I see your phone number.”

Finn shook his head. “No. You’re Logan. Logan Tremblay.”

The gun wavered. If Finn was really smart, or had any sort of training at all, he would try to get rid of it entirely. But it didn’t feel real. For the amount Finn had been around guns—never—it looked like a toy. In Logan’s hand, his Logan, it looked like a toy.

“I’m—I’m Logan,” Logan repeated haltingly. Questioningly.

Finn nodded. How didn’t he know his own name?

“Who are you?” Logan asked.

“Finn. I’m Finn.”

Logan seemed to remember the gun. He raised it back to Finn’s chest. “Why do I see your number?”

“Because you gave it to me.”

“No. No, I didn’t know where it would go.”

“Yes. You gave it to me for emergencies. So we could keep in touch in case… In case anything happened.”

“Why? Who do you work for?”

“I’m a professor of English Literature at King’s College. In London. I moved there for you.”

“Why?” Logan fired the questions like an interrogation, but Finn could see how curious he was.

“For your work.”

“No, why did you move for me?”

Finn thought of Sirius. There had been something said about not saying too much. That it was too much too soon. But just then, Finn couldn’t help it, he couldn’t stand it.

“Logan,” Finn said softly. His hands were still raised, and he hoped Logan would notice his ring. “Lo, we’re married.”

The gun flagged again. Logan just stared at him. His eyes flit to the gold on his left hand.

Finn eased that hand forward, palm up. “We’ve been married for five years. Lo, something’s happened to you—”

Finn broke off when Logan dropped the gun. It rattled on the floor. Logan’s face twisted up in pain. His hands went to his head and he dropped to his knees right in front of Finn with a low cry.

“Lo?” Finn reached for him. Logan sagged against his chest, gasping for air. “Oh God—Logan, what—”

Logan didn’t seem like he could support his own weight. His eyes were closed, teeth grit.

“Logan.” Finn gathered him close, cradling his back, getting his legs under him to pull Logan into his lap. He didn’t care if Logan didn’t know him, he wasn’t going to let him lay on the cold ground. “Logan, can you hear me?” He looked up, searching for Leo or Sirius.

“Finn.”

When Finn looked back down, Logan was staring at him. Finally, a shade of green he knew. A shade that knew him. Logan reached for him. “Finn. Rouge.”

Finn felt his eyes fill with tears. “It’s—It’s me. Oh God—Lo, it’s me.”

Finally, it felt like when Logan was looking at him, he actually saw him. He gripped onto Finn’s jacket and touched his face. Finn leaned his cheek into Logan’s palm.

“It’s me, it’s me,” Finn whispered. “Lo—”

“Listen to me. Listen to me. Salazar—” Logan said, and his face screwed up in pain again. A sound of pain broke in his throat and his back arched in Finn’s arms. He grabbed Finn tighter. “No, no, no, listen Finn, listen—”

“Logan.” Finn held him tighter. “You’re scaring me, you’re scaring me—”

Logan’s nose began to bleed, a thin red trail down his cheek bone, but his eyes opened again. “Tell Leo…” Logan’s fingers dug into the skin of his neck, but Finn didn’t care. He only cared that Logan was looking at him, talking to him.

“What,” Finn said. “Tell Leo what?” Finn’s voice went high through tears. He wiped the blood from Logan’s nose. “Baby, what’s wrong? What happened to you, why didn’t you come home, what can I do—”

“Pascal,” Logan said, and then his entire body went limp in Finn’s arms.

“No—” The word came out strangled. “Logan, Logan—”

“Let go of him, O’Hara.”

Finn’s head snapped up. A man was standing there. Sandy-hair and with a severe face. He had a gun trained on him, held with two hands.

“Throw the gun,” the man said, not lowering his own. “Get up. And no one will get hurt.”

Finn held Logan closer, tilting his face, the blood drying across his cheek, against his chest and away form the cold wind. “Who are you?”

“I said let him go.”

Finn picked up Logan’s gun and aimed it. “Don’t touch him. Who the fuck are you?”

The man just laughed. “You don’t even know how to point that thing correctly.”

“But I do.”

They both turned to see Leo standing there. He had his gun raised at the man, but his eyes went wide when his saw his face.

“Jack?” Leo said. “What the hell? What are you doing here?”

“Stay out of this Leo,” Jack said, and turned back to Finn and Logan. “Tell him to hand over Tremblay.”

“Jack,” Leo said again. “Put the fucking gun down! He’s a civilian.”

“Then he shouldn’t be handling a service weapon,” Jack said. He cocked his own gun. “Let go of him, Finn. Set him down and step away.”

“No,” Finn said. “No.”

Jack grit his teeth and fired a shot into the air. Finn flinched down, curving his body over Logan’s. He’d never heard a gunshot in real life before. At least not like this. His own hand flexed around the handle of Logan’s gun. Jack was right. He didn’t have a clue how to shoot this thing. What if he needed to and nothing happened? Wasn’t there a safety mode?He heard cries of shock from the distant main street at Jack’s shot and tried to imagine someone getting scared because of him.

“Get up,” Jack said.

“No.”

Another single shot rang out and all three of them, Finn, Leo, and Jack flinched. None of them had fired it. Jack looked around wildly and Leo raised his eyes towards the rooftops.

Sirius and James rounded the corner on each other’s heels with their guns raised.

“Jack,” Sirius said, then saw Leo with his gun and raised his, too. He flitted his eyes to Finn and stopped hard when he saw who Finn was holding. “Logan…”

“Who the fuck was that?” Jack demanded, rounding on Sirius. “Who are you working for? What did Lupin say to you?”

James was positioned just out of view behind the street corner, but Finn could see him. “You’re not making any sense, Archer.”

Jack Archer. Finn carded his fingers through Logan’s hair, trying to think if he’d heard that name. Too much of his mind was bleeding bleeding Logan bleeding to remember.

“Remus?” Sirius called out hesitantly, eyes also towards the sky. Had the shot come from the roof? Finn couldn’t tell. “Is that you?”

“We have to go,” Finn said, locking eyes with Leo. “He’s hurt. He’s…” He looked back down at Logan’s face. It was relaxed now, peaceful even, but Finn couldn’t get the feeling of the way his body had contracted in on itself. “Please don’t die,” Finn whispered. “Please, Lo, I can’t, I know I can’t without you.”

There was no reply from above, and Jack fired off four shots, making Leo scream at him to stop. When he didn’t, Leo ran up behind him and disarmed him cleaning in three deadly hits to his shoulder, and elbow.

“What’s going on, Jack?” Leo asked, holding both guns now, pointing them towards the ground.

Jack scowled, eyes on his gun.

“What would Remus have told us?” Sirius asked.

Jack began to back up. “Like I’d give up what we know.”

“Did you know he was alive?” Sirius strode forward fast, gun raised. “Did you?”

Finn didn’t think of Sirius as calm exactly, but he did think of him as collected. He didn’t seem either one just then. He had a snarl to his voice. He looked like he was seriously considering killing Jack if he answered yes to that question.

“Did you?” Sirius shouted, and fired a shot of his own, just beside Jack’s head. It sent Jack running, with no weapon of his own.

The last thing Finn saw of Sirius was the flash of his gray eyes as he gave chase.

“Finn.” Leo’s voice. Finn realized, as he stared at his hands gripping Logan to him, that he was shaking again. Leo’s gloved hands covered his own. He’d put his gun away and he was staring at Logan. Blue. God, his eyes were so very, very blue. Finn had always been a little struck by that. Like water, though water wasn’t blue, was it? Like the sky in water. Though the sky wasn’t blue. Like light.

“He wanted to shoot me,” Finn heard himself whisper.

“What?” Leo said breathlessly. Slowly, he took the gun out of Finn’s trembling hand. Finn let him. “Shoot you?”

“And then he knew me,” Finn said, and Leo’s eyes widened.

“He did?”

“For a second.” Finn stroked the blood off of Logan’s cheek. “For a second, he knew me. He said tell Leo…”

“What?” Leo’s hand tightened. “Tell me what? Tell me what?”

“Pascal,” Finn said. Logan’s eyes moved beneath his eyelids. Delicate. Alive. “And now he’s…” Alive. Alive alive. “Now he’s like this. He said Pascal.”