'Twas the night before Christmas ....The evening had been wonderful, a quiet celebration of the day to come as Rhys and Nat shared their gifts with Gina and Adam, each of them agreeing without words to make Christmas Day all about Joey and his presents. Yet as midnight approached, they'd slipped away from one another, separating to enter their own rooms, their own beds, curling up close with the one they loved to let Christmas come in its own time.

Nat slept, hugging close to Rhys' back in the quiet darkness, her dreams touched with that strange sense of isolation she had been struggling with all day. Yet as midnight came and went, something disturbed her from her sleep. She blinked her eyes open, frowning into the darkness as she rolled onto her back, ears straining for any sense of what had woken her. And there it was ....the gentle melody of the music box Rhys had given her, playing itself through. It sounded closer than downstairs, though, her gaze drawn to the closed door to find a soft golden light playing under it from the hallway outside.

She half-smiled, her thoughts turning immediately to the child in the house, and moved to slip from the bed without disturbing her Rhys, intending to find Joey and chase him back to bed before his parents caught him out and about after midnight. Stepping into her slippers, she drew her robe about herself, moving quietly to the door to slip through, following the sound of the beautiful music box, a melody that she remembered with love from her childhood.

Strangely, the first thing she noticed was that there were no lights on in the house, though that strange golden glow was emanating from somewhere downstairs. Perhaps someone had left the tree lights on or there were car lights streaming in through a window. The sound of the music seemed to be coming from downstairs, as well, drawing her closer as though it were some sort of enchantment.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Nat ventured to the stairs, pausing to glance through the open door of Joey's bedroom. There the boy was, fast asleep, his stocking at the end of the bed ready to greet him when he woke on Christmas morning. So who had opened the music box, she wondered. Part of her thought to wake Rhys, but the stronger part called her to investigate alone, that self-sufficient spirit too stubborn to back down from a mystery. She knew she was safe here. Slow steps brought her down the stairs as she tied her robe about her waist, pausing in the hall to look around. The light seemed to be coming from the main room, where the music still played. Drawn on, she peered through the door, silent and curious.

It didn't seem like the light was coming from the tree, or the street, or any other obvious or logical source, but was warm and welcoming as summer sunshine as it cast a golden glow across the entire room. In that midst of that golden light stood a figure, which at first someone might take for an angel, though there were no wings to identify it as such. The figure was at first merely a dark silhouette against that shining light, but then, it slowly seemed to take shape, tall and slim and familiar somehow.

That familiar someone almost took Natalya's breath away. She felt the shock of recognition like a punch to her heart, stopping in her tracks as tears rolled, unbidden, down her cheeks. The last time she had seen that face, it had been bloodied, grimacing in a death mask that screamed with anguished pain. And yet ....there he was. Her breath shuddered as she wrapped her arms tight about herself in the golden glow that surrounded her. "Micah?"

The figure turned at the sound of the voice revealing a tall man with brown hair and brown eyes, not young, but neither old. He wore a warm smile on his familiar face at the sight of his sister. "Solnyshko," he greeted her in their native Russian, a familiar term of endearment he had called her when he'd been alive. Sunshine. "It has been a long time, yes?" he continued in their native tongue, so familiar to her ears. "I trust you are well."

Natalya stared at her brother, shocked, in awe of his presence, crying without quite knowing why. It had been so long since she had heard him call her that, drawing in a deep breath to try and steady herself. "Too long," she agreed with him, their natural Russian coming easily to her tongue. "I-I am well. I am wed, and with child." She almost laughed, having never thought she would ever be in a position to say such a thing about herself. But that hint toward laughter died as she looked up at her beloved Micah. "I am so sorry I could not save you, Mischenka. It was all my fault."

He smiled at her warmly, fondly, in that brotherly way that he always had, ever loving, ever understanding, ever protective and supportive, like her father never was. "Da, I know. It is in part why I am here." The smile faded a little when she mentioned his death. He remembered it, but like a faded dream, a nightmare that could no longer hurt him. He had gone to a better place, where her father's ghost could not follow. He lifted a hand as if to silence her without words. "What is done is done, sestrenka. Do not grieve for me. I am at peace."

"I will never stop grieving," she told him softly, knowing her own heart that well. "But I am glad that you are at peace." There was silence for a long moment as she gazed at her big brother, the one ray of sunshine in her childhood, missing him with an ache she knew she would never be truly free of. "I wish you could meet Rhys. You would like him, I think. But ....why are you here?"

"I have been permitted to see....some things," he told her, moving over to where she had left the little music box that played the beloved tune. "Death is not the end, Natalya. It is only a beginning. You should take comfort in that." He opened the lid of the box, allowing the two figures to twirl in place, causing the whimsical melody to play again. "I am here for you, Natalya. It is Christmas, and there is magic in the air."

Drawn to him, Nat found herself at her brother's side, looking down at the dancing figures in the music box with a gentle tug at her heart. ....Hear this song and remember ... Brown eyes rose to Micah's face, questioning, yet unafraid. "What are you here to show me, Mischenka""

He watched the figures twirl in their animated, mechanical dance until the music box ran down. The music died away, and the two figures - father and daughter - came to a stop. "I am here to give you a very special gift, to show you things you could never see on your own. You feel alone here, yes?" he asked, as he turned his face toward her again, now that the music had finished. "And yet, you tell me you are wed and with child. How can you feel alone in this, solnyshko?" It seemed he answered her question with a question, as if he wanted her to probe her own heart deeper to find the reasons for her discomfort.

The past faded, as the little family of three disappeared into the happy safe haven that was their home to enjoy their last family Christmas together, ignorant of the tragedy that awaited them in less than a year. "I do not choose these visions," Micah explained as the scene faded. "But each should have some meaning for you."

"There's more?" She was surprised to discover how shaken her voice sounded, pausing to try and steady herself as she tore her eyes from the house that would not see much more laughter. "It was his last Christmas with his parents. The last time he was allowed to be a child without reserve. He lost everything before the next December came around."

"Da, he did. But at least, he has this memory to cling to," Micah very nearly echoed her own thoughts. "We have more stops to make this night. Are you ready?" he asked, holding tightly to her hand.

"Da, Mischenka," she nodded, drawing in a breath as she braced herself. "I am ready."

He waved a hand and the darkness enveloped them again before another scene slowly took shape before them. Another house, another time, another place - different, yet not so very different from the first house. Another man, but the same boy, a little bit older, taller, sadder, perhaps twelve years old, on the verge of adolescence, but still very much a child.

The man looked nearly as glum as the boy, sober, serious. He was tall and handsome of about his middle years and looking as though he carried the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

"Why are we here?" the boy asked, glancing up at the man, a hint of that youthful innocence still there, not quite lost despite the tragedies that had befallen him.

"You'll see," the man replied, pressing a thumb to the doorbell.

The two of them were wrapped up in scarves and coats, the cold wintry air chilling their bare noses. It only took a moment before the door was answered by a woman with ash-blond hair and pale blue eyes who smiled at the sight of them.

"Dylan! It's about time you got here. And you must be Rhys," she said, ushering them both inside and out of the cold.

Brought to bear on a time further on in Rhys' childhood, Nat's heart went out to the boy who had grown too old before his time, knowing that he had lost father, mother, and sister in terrible circumstances not so very long ago. Dylan, she knew of ....but the woman was a mystery to her, a source of confusion. Rhys had never mentioned a woman in relation to Dylan and his childhood. Who was she"

The man's hand fell upon the boy's shoulder and gave it a brief, reassuring squeeze as they followed the woman inside. "Sorry, we're late," he was telling her.

The boy's eyes widened as they stepped into the house, mostly likely at the sights and smells and sounds that accosted them, flooded with memories of another Christmas not so long ago.

"Let me take your coats," the woman said, and did so without argument. "Jessica!" she called, as she lead them into the living room where a Christmas tree took center stage in all its glory. "Come downstairs and meet Rhys!"

Jessica. Nat flinched back as the name was called, knowing suddenly who she was about to see. She didn't want to see the girl, knowing how she had died, knowing how it still tormented Rhys. She turned away, shaking her head. "Nyet," she told Micah. "I do not want to see this."

The scene grew dark before the girl arrived. Though Natalya had not seen what had taken place, she could easily guess. Micah did not argue, nor did he pass any judgments, reminding her, "It is only the past, Natalya. These things have already happened. They cannot hurt you."

"Spasibo," she breathed, thanking him for taking her away before she saw the face of the innocent girl who had been Rhys' first love. She knew the circumstances of that pain already; she did not want to know any more. "The past can always hurt me, Micah. I will never be the innocent girl, or the brave woman, or any of the others. I am simply myself, with my many flaws." She looked around into the darkness that gathered about them. "I am seeing," she admitted softly. "He fears the same as I, for the same reasons."

"Everyone is flawed, solynshko," the ghost of Micah pointed out. "Some more than others. You should not compare yourself to the others. You should just be yourself. He loves you, da?" He paused a moment as the darkness gathered itself around them again. "Perhaps that is one of the lessons you must learn."

"Perhaps." She was not yet convinced, but some part of her was wavering, that part which held stubbornly to the safety of being alone, of knowing that no one could hurt her if she did not allow them in. But Rhys was in her heart, the first to break that stone barrier in decades. She owed him the same faith he showed her.

"We have another visit to make," he told her, parting the darkness as it swirled around them, like pulling open a curtain on a stage. A new scene started to take shape, winter yet again - a common theme, as it seemed each scene she was being shown was that of some memory of Rhys' that had taken place at Christmas. This time she would recognize the city as that of New York - Brooklyn, to be exact - not far from Adam and Gina's brownstone. Snowflakes were drifting from the sky, pretty as the scene in the snow globe Natalya had given Rhys for Christmas this year.

It was dark, nearly midnight, though there was no clock to tell the time. Stars peeked through the clouds every now and then winking down at the earth that seemed so quiet and peaceful, except for those who found no peace, even at Christmas. The rumble of a car engine caught their attention as it drove up and parked in front of a small house. Nat recognized it as a '67 Mustang, almost a duplicate of the car she'd bought Rhys, except that this one was painted black, rather than green. From inside the car stepped a teenager, perhaps seventeen or eighteen, with short brown hair that was streaked with blond. He wore a worn-out black leather jacket over a black turtleneck sweater and blue jeans, brown leather boots on his feet. He glanced at the house, but before he had a chance to step away from the car, a dark-haired girl had emerged from the front door and was hurrying down the path to the car, her face streaked with tears.

The man sat there on the park bench as motionless as a stone statue, just quietly watching as the world went on around him. What he was watching, what he was thinking was a mystery to those around him, and to the two who had come here from the future to witness a scene that some higher power had deemed important. An older man passed by walking a dog on a chain, muttering beneath his breath, "Freak," when he saw the man with the green hair and the piercings, but the silent lone figure didn't seem to notice or care, or perhaps he was only pretending. Another moment passed, and it would become apparent to anyone who was carefully observant that he wasn't just staring into space, but was watching the people from a safe distance, the families who were playing and laughing in the new-fallen snow. A single tear trickled down his face, quickly brushed away before anyone noticed.

"I thought I might find you here," a man's voice said, pulling the loner out of his reverie. "Christ, Rhys, the hell's the matter with you? That's not a coat. You'll catch your death of cold out here in the snow." A man came into view - tall, dark-haired, handsome. Adam looked no different then than he did now. He dropped down on the bench beside his friend and reached over to draw the other man's coat closed - an old green army jacket that looked like it had seen better days.

"I'm fine," Rhys replied, looking over at his friend. "You don't need to mother-hen me, Adam. I can take care of myself."

Adam snorted. "Right, that's why you're half-frozen. Why are you sitting out here all alone, anyway' It's freezing out here."

"I like sitting here. It's peaceful," Rhys explained. It was as good an excuse as any, but not really true.

Adam sighed as he watched his friend quietly a moment. "Look, I know it's hard. I know you don't remember anything. I know you don't know who you're supposed to be, but no matter what you think, you're not alone. I don't know what the hair is about. I don't know what?s going through your head. I know you don't remember me, but you have to trust me, Rhys. I promised a long time ago to protect you, and I'm not giving up now."

"The hair?" Rhys asked, arching a brow at his friend. He chuckled, mirthlessly. "You seriously want to know about the hair" I'll tell you what it's about. It's about making people dig a little deeper. That's what it's about."

"You don't judge a book by its cover," Adam remarked, perhaps understanding.

"Something like that," Rhys replied, turning back to watch the children at play, unable to hide the look of yearning on his face. "How am I supposed to figure out what to do with my life when I don't even know who I am?" he asked, looking more than a little bit lost.

You are mine. The thought came unbidden to Natalya's mind as she stood and watched, her heart aching for her dearest love all over again. She had watched as he envied the laughing, happy families, shedding a tear with him for the joy that was not a part of his life at this moment. She had smiled to see Adam there, always watching over Rhys, whether he wanted it or not, though the envy was there that he had friends where she had not. Friends who still stood by him, no matter his mistakes, no matter his follies. Yet there he was, questioning his place, feeling the same isolation then as she felt now, and she understood that it was not something unique to her. That Rhys had gone through it, that he had conquered it, and with his love, his help, there was hope that she would, too. She brushed away that stray tear, feeling herself smile at the light that made itself known, even in this, what seemed to be her milaya's darker time.

"What makes you think the rest of us know anymore than you do?" Adam countered, smiling warmly at his oldest and dearest friend, who was the closest thing he'd ever had to a brother. "Come on. Let's go inside and watch some cheesy Christmas shows and have a couple of beers, and I'll tell you a little about yourself."

"Yeah, okay," Rhys agreed. "I've got nothing else to do on Christmas." And apparently, neither had Adam.

The scene faded, growing dark as yet another vision of the past came to a close. "We have finished with the past, Natalya. Do you understand what it is you were brought here to see?" Micah asked before they moved on.

She gazed for a long time into the darkness where Rhys and Adam had been sitting, finally raising her eyes to those of her beloved brother with a smile he had never seen in life. "I think I understand," she nodded hesitantly. "That I am not alone in this feeling. That he, too, has felt a stranger to those who love him. He has overcome that feeling. There is hope that I will too, in time."

"I cannot say what it is you were brought here to see, solynshko. This is for you to understand, not I. Are you ready to go on?" he asked, hinting that their evening's travels were not yet quite at an end.

She nodded, hugging his arm as she stepped close, appreciating his presence more than she could possibly say. "I am ready, Mischenka. Show me what comes next."

"What you will see now is no longer the past, or at least, is only the very recent past." The darkness closed around them in that now familiar way and when the darkness faded, it opened onto a scene that had only taken place a few hours earlier in the kitchen of the brownstone that Adam and Gina called home.

The three little people stopped in the doorway, blinking up at their father with varying degrees of innocence, be it feigned or genuine. There was a pause as they attempted to work out what it was they had forgotten, a small conference held between Ana and Micah in low mutters. But it was the youngest who answered, raising his mittened hands to Rhys as he declared in a muffled voice through the folds of his scarf, "Melly Kissmass, Papa!"

Though Rhys loved all his children equally, it was no secret that he had a soft spot for the baby, as he had with each one when they had been his age. "Ana, you're a smart girl. What did you forget?" he asked, as he scooped his youngest son up into his arms and wiggled the little boy's booted foot. "And Merry Christmas to you, too, Dillweed," he added, smooching the little boy's cheek with a smile.

Offered a pretty enormous clue by means of a wet boot waved at around her head height, the eldest grinned, swiping her hat off a head full of chestnut curls that were charmingly similar to her mother's. "Boots," she laughed, nudging her brother.

"Soggy boots," little Micah agreed with a long-suffering sigh as the pair of them turned to remove boots, hats, gloves, scarves, and coats. And, of course, leaving their little brother in Papa's capable hands.

And as soon as Anastasia uttered the word boots, a meow came from the black and white cat of the same name as she wound her way around all the pairs of legs to rub up against Ana who was her favorite. "Not you, Boots!" Rhys told the cat with a smirk as he unwound the scarf from around the littlest one's neck and pulled off his hat and mittens. "You're bundled up tighter than a snowman, Dylan!"

As the little girl crowed a hello to the cat, the woman of the house made an appearance, leaning around another doorway that led into the kitchen. "You are all letting in a dreadful draft," she informed the group with a grin, crouching as Micah moved over to her for help with his buttons. It was obvious that the middle child was the apple of her eye, though she loved the others just as dearly.

The unseen Natalya frowned as a faint suspicion touched her mind, pulling on her brother's hand as she moved to look into the eyes of the boy who shared his name. And there he was ....not only her son, but her brother, too; a reincarnated soul given a second chance in the love of the sister who missed him so dreadfully.

As she stared, stepping back in confusion, her older self tweaked at the little Micah's nose and stood once again. "You should know how to do that by now, Mischenka," she told her son, who just giggled as he pulled his coat off. Her eyes strayed to Rhys and their youngest. "When are the others arriving, milaya?"

The doorbell rang as if in answer to Natalya's question and Rhys smiled. "I'd say right about now." He tugged off little Dylan's boots and set them on a mat near the door to dry, carrying him further into the house, balanced against a hip. "Shall we see who's at the door, children?" he asked as he unzipped and tugged off the toddler's coat.

"Mama said cookie," little Dylan pointed out in a huff as he was revealed from beneath his winter gear to be a sandy-haired cherub who looked a lot like his father had when he was that small.

The older Nat laughed fondly, leaning in to kiss the toddler's forehead. "The cookies will still be there, lyubimaya moy," she promised him. "But everyone will freeze if we leave them at the door!"

Ana joined in with this, her smile beaming happily as she hugged her cat in her arms. "I'll come and do the door," she volunteered, nudging little Micah until he agreed with a slightly grumbly sigh.

Rhys smirked as the little one reminded them about the cookies. He had a sweet tooth, much like his father, but what child didn't' Rhys snagged a cookie off the counter as soon as Natalya's head was turned and gave it to the toddler, who was in danger of being spoiled rotten by an over-indulgent father. "Shhh," he warned the toddler with a finger against his own lips before following the rest of the brood toward the door to greet their guests. The doorbell rang again, and one more time, as someone outside that door was growing quickly impatient.

It was little Micah who got to the door first, pulling it open to reveal the little family crowded into the hallway to greet their guests standing impatiently on the stoop with a loud chorus of, "Merry Christmas!" The addendum of, "An' a happy noo ear," wasn't exactly rehearsed, but Dylan's addition through his mouthful of cookie was enough to make the greeting a laughing one.

"Come in out of the cold!" the older Natalya laughed, ushering her older children back out of the way and somehow ending up with both of them wrapped around her waist in the process, all three of them pinned to the wall by the entry of their guests.

"Boots!" the toddler reminded the small army of visitors who'd just arrived at the Bristol house, remembering his father's warning from just a few moments past. Rhys laughed, plucking a cookie crumb from his own shoulder before it hit the floor. The whole family was there, Adam and Gina and their brood, as well as Rachel and Zach. Three families that often came together as one, all linked together through Rhys and Natalya.

And as the unseen Natalya watched, she saw how much a part of that wider family she would become. No longer an outsider, she was greeted as warmly by Adam, by Gina, by Rachel, by Zach, as Rhys and their children were, quickly surrounded by the other children in the family. Just in this one instance, it seemed that Christmases in their family would become a happily crowded affair. Where Rhys would give her three children to adore, Gina and Adam seemed to have proliferated wildly, bringing with them an adult son in Joey, along with four children between five and fifteen, and between them Rachel and Zachariel seemed to be adding to the brood themselves. The former angel held a toddler in one arm, his other hand claimed by an older boy, and there was no doubt that another was expected by Rhys' little sister as she closed the front door behind them all.

Unseen and unheard, Natalya found herself hugging close to the flesh and blood ghost of her dead brother, unable to keep herself from crying happily at all she saw. Love and laughter and family in a life that had begun so cold and alone. This was the future she was promised, if only she could let herself live in the present.

And embraced she was, loved by, welcomed and accepted into that greater family, just as she was in her smaller one. "This is the future as it might be if things continue on the current course," Micah explained, as his sister hugged him close. "So, you see, solnyshko, it is not goodbye. It is never goodbye. Death is not final. It is only a door into the next world and the next life." He turned to her as the laughter around them faded and they were left alone, not in darkness this time, but back in the living room in the brownstone that Adam and Gina called home. The music box had gone silent, but some sort of breeze seemed to stir her brother's hair, as his time there grew short.

She kept her eyes on her own smiling face as the light dimmed, turning into her brother's embrace only when there was nothing left to see. "Nyet, it is not goodbye," she whispered, hugging him tightly as a breeze she could not feel touched him. "It is do svidaniya, Mischenka. I love you, and I miss you. I will keep you safe, next time."

"Be happy, Natalya. You are loved more than you know." He brushed a tender kiss against his little sister's head and hugged her back for the very last time, until they met again. "Ya tebya lyublyu, Natalya," he told her, as he reluctantly broke away from her embrace. "Remember what you have seen and know that it is true."

"I will remember," she promised him softly as he left her arms, her smile touched with tears at this farewell. Her beloved brother, brought back to her for one night only through the magic of Christmas, had taught her more in just a few hours than any amount of reassurance and promises could. "I will honor what you have shown me. It will come to pass. I swear it."

He smiled perhaps for the first time since his arrival, looking younger and more vital than even she remembered, though he was no longer alive. He seemed to shine with some inner light that was not of the mortal world, his form growing brighter, like a star in the night sky. "I will see you soon, Natalya," he said, and then like a light that burned too bright, he faded and was gone from sight, but like the evening had started, so it ended, the little music box playing of its own accord once again, as if to remind her each time she heard that well-loved tune of the promises made this Christmas Eve.

((Christmas morning yet to come, and will Nat's journey through past, present, and future have done any good" Stayed toooned to fine out! Also ....Rhys' player is awesome. 'Nuff said.))