At first he thought the hunger pangs were surely what had thrown him from his blissful, dreamless slumber. Jim winced as a spasm of pain ripped through his body from his gut, roaring and gurgling in his ears, leaving his head spinning. The boy pushed himself up, blinking; he had been lying on his stomach with the side of his face pressed into the pillow. He was still in his clothes, not even under the covers; as if he had just fallen on his bed and nodded off. Jim could barely think, barely remember anything for a few seconds as he glanced around the dark room, stone cold in the dead of the night. Then he realized what had really woken him up.

The door was cracked open slightly, a stream of soft light fading away across the floor. Faintly he could hear a low whimper down the hall, which suddenly broke into loud, sobbing gasps. If someone had screamed in his ear, it would not have hurt as much. Reeling a bit as he slid off the bed (oh how he wished he hadn't kicked that soup bowl…), he peered out the door and headed for his mother's room.

Rarely did she ever leave her bedroom door open, not since the house had been converted to an inn. Those were the days when he would run frightened to his parents during a thunderstorm, seeking refuge. Or when he would jump about wildly in the middle of the night with the announcement of a loose tooth. Not anymore. Perhaps tonight was different. The house was empty, with the exception of those two. Jim pushed open the door and looked in. "Momma?"

She was curled up in a dark tangle of sheets, her back to him. Her hair, no longer up, was spread across the pillow in an auburn flow. Jim couldn't help but notice how lonely she looked, in that big bed with all that extra space. Maybe that's why she was crying.

When he called, Sarah barely moved, except to curl up a bit more. There was a pause, a sniffle, and the whimper again. Listening, Jim felt as if his heart were connected to the sound, slowly bleeding.

"Mom…" he pleaded desperately, climbing on the bed just as she sobbed again. It rang in his ears and put a vice on his heart, bringing tears to his eyes. "Mom, please don't cry, please…"

Jim wasn't sure what to do. She wouldn't stop, just shook and sniffed. In despair, he curled up next to her and hugged her shoulders.

All at once she stopped, her breath trailing away and her back tensing. Jim set his cheek on her shoulder and continued to whisper "Please don't cry, please don't cry…" over and over. Finally, with a sniff, she turned her head and looked back at him. He could see her eyes swollen and glistening with tears in the darkness, face streaked. He hated seeing his mother that way. Hated it. It tore at him, frightened him to death. Tears splashed down on the shoulder of her nightgown.

She wished she could say something to him, anything. He wished she would. At least, with trembling heart, he realized she wasn't crying anymore. Sarah turned over, letting her son fall off her shoulders to sit on his knees, eyes wide and hair tousled as he gazed at her in the dark. Almost overcome with grief again, she hugged him close to her, setting her cheek on top of his head.

And they stayed that way until tears escaped them both, and the sun began to rise on the morning of Christmas Eve.

With a tiger's face-splitting yawn, Kent stumbled to the door, sleepy-eyed and weary. Knock, knock, knock. "Yeah, hold on, I'm coming," Kent hollered as he groped for the doorknob, found it, and pulled open the door.

A man hovered in the shadows, buried in a thick jacket, a pack slung over one shoulder. The sun hadn't yet risen and the twitchy young man was indistinguishable in the dim starlight.

"Can I help you?" Kent croaked, rubbing an eye and fighting the urge to yawn once more. But the mysterious visitor was making him edgy, and he was increasingly alert.

The man seemed to hesitate, then stepped forward a bit. "Kent?" The voice was strained and hoarse. Very familiar.

Kent let out a sigh and dropped his hand, his guard slowly backing down. "Leland? Good God, it's 3 in the morning."

"I know." Uncomfortable shift.

"What happened? Wh- what are you doing here? You should be home at this hour…"

"I'll tell you in a second… do you mind if I come in? I've been walking for hours…"

Kent shook his head and stepped aside. "No - I mean - sure, go ahead…" He cut himself off with another yawn behind his hand.

Leland stepped into the small house, swinging his pack down by the hearth. The room was definitely a bit warmer than outside, but the fire had been out for hours now. Kent closed the door and flicked on a lantern, which flooded the room with the flicker of warm light. The complex little generator beneath it whirred and crackled quietly. The two young men stood and blinked as their eyes adjusted. Leland collapsed in an old armchair as soon as he could see, legs stretched out and head tilted back. Kent leaned against the short bookcase supporting the lantern, arms crossed, as he looked Leland over.

There was something in the man's face that stirred a sort of pity in Kent's heart. Deep lines were etched on Leland's face, and black rings spinning beneath his eyes told of exhaustion soul deep. Coal dust was caked in the recesses of the jacket and in his hair. Flicks of blood were splattered on his tunic mixed with the telltale sign of tears, and snowy mud was plastered on his boots. He was - Kent concluded - nothing short of a tramp and a miserable wreck.

After a pause, Kent spoke, a little more confident now that he was awake. "So? Are you going to tell me?"

"Hmm?" Leland lifted his head and blinked at Kent. "Oh…" He sat forward and gave a rattled, anxious sigh. "I don't know what to say, Kent. It's gone. I've lost everything now. My job, my wife, my son… just, gone." He made a careless gesture with his hand, as if sweeping something away.

Kent frowned. "Why, what happened with Sarah and Jim?"

"Nothing! I did nothing!" Leland snapped, then seemed to realize his mistake. His voice lowered again. "I mean… no… no, it was all my fault… I tried to take off and Sarah caught me. Told her everything, said they'd be better off without me. Jim heard the whole thing. Sarah and I started to… raise our voices… and Jim, he… he tried to stop us. I couldn't help it, Kent, I just couldn't. You just heard me, I get so caught up, I was so torn… I yelled at him, Kent. Screamed at him. I shouldn't have said it, he shouldn't have been there… he ran off and Sarah kicked me out. Told me to leave if that's what I wanted. So I left." He fell silent for a moment. Kent just stared at him, brows furrowed. Leland suddenly looked up and met Kent's gaze, his eyes glossy. "Kent, I may never see them again."

Kent dropped his head and kicked at the dust floor. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes. Of course… well, maybe… no. No."

He looked back up. "Why'd you change your mind? After all that, everything you've told me before?"

Leland buried his face in his hands. "I don't know, I… it's different now. I didn't realize it. All those feelings are gone in me, just as I told you, but… it's still there. In them. Looking into Sarah's eyes one last time, I finally understood… she kept it, all along, waiting for me. I blew it, I can't believe I didn't see…" He lapsed off.

Kent smirked, recalling. Perhaps even the most calloused hearts can be healed. "What are you going to do about it? I care about you, Leland, but you can't live here."

Leland shook his head slowly. "No, no… Kent, I can't go back, I just can't… I'll go to Crescentia, find somewhere else to go… but I can't go back, not now, not after all this…"

"Why not?" Kent tilted his head.

"I can't face her. I can't. Not her, not Jim. What good would it do, anyway?" he muttered the last line bitterly.

Kent folded his arms. "A whole lot of good, if you ask me. Leland, your own son handles his faults better than you do. He makes mistakes, but at least he can put them in the past. If you can't confront what you said and how you feel, all you'll ever do is lose everything over and over again until you run yourself into the dust. Right now, at Christmas of all times, I'm sure they want you home just as much as you do. Even if you can't stay."

Leland lifted his head, contemplative. "I've missed so many Christmases," he muttered. "I didn't even notice." He pulled something out of his pocket, a sort of oval locket that shimmered bronze in the lanternlight. Leland stared at it. "I bought this ages ago, before I got sick… that's why I was working overtime every night, to pay it off. Sarah will never know…"

Kent smiled. "She doesn't need to. Just give it to her."

Leland sighed, leaning back into the chair. "Easier said."

"Sarah! You look terr- … -ific today."

She glared darkly at him. "Thank you, Delbert." Sarcasm dripped from her voice as she closed the door behind him.

Delbert blushed furiously, averting his eyes. He glanced about the crowded in, which was filled with the hum of low chatter. "Err, I mean, you always look lovely…" he stuttered. "Not that I'm looking… but… wait, let me try that again…"

Sarah forced a smile. "Just say what you mean. I look terrible, don't I?"

He paused. "Well, perhaps you appear, uh… a little more strained than usual. Might I pry?" Delbert folded his coat over a chair and sat down.

She stood above the table, hair falling into her face as she glanced down. "Oh, I just had trouble sleeping, that's all." At the look on his face, she rolled her eyes. "No, not like that…"

He grinned, floppy ears rising a bit as he smiled. "Of course. But honestly, what is bothering you? I've not seen you this upset since Leland fell ill…" Delbert spoke remorsefully, as if it were a shame the affliction were not more sever. He leaned forward slightly. "… Is it him?"

"I know you've never liked him, Delbert, but…" Sarah looked anxiously over her shoulder, but did not see Jim anywhere. She sat in the chair opposite Delbert and folded her hands, gazing down at them. "Leland was released from his job yesterday," she said softly. "And… well, I guess he's gone."

Delbert stared incredulously at her. "What, he just… left?"

"Well, maybe he might have wanted to at first… maybe he has all along… but I told him to go." She had to catch herself. She couldn't break down again. Not in front of Delbert. "I just hope he's happy now."

"Oh… Sarah, I'm so sorry… that is just absurd, at Christmas! Why, if I saw him, I would certainly give him a piece of my mind…"

"No, Delbert, don't… it's fine, really. I'll be alright. Though… as much as I hate to admit it, I'm sorry to see him go. Now, when we need each other the most… the three of us."

"How's Jim taking it, speaking of which?"

"Hard… he doesn't really understand. He still thinks Leland's coming back."

"Poor boy…"

She set her chin on her palms. "Family is everything to him… especially his father. Jim's just so used to doing everything right, winning over Leland's affection was just another challenge for him… if Leland doesn't come back, he's failed. How is a child supposed to take that?"

Delbert sighed. "He'll grow up thinking he's a failure."

Sarah's eyes began to shimmer. "I just wish… for once… we could spend this Christmas together."

There was a silence between them as each sat with their own mulled thoughts. Delbert suddenly stood up, gathering his coat. Sarah looked up at him in surprise.

"Where are you going?" she asked, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief she had been twisting about between her fingers.

Delbert couldn't help but smile. "Oh, well, you see… I just realized… I should really be getting back to the Manor. Christmas Eve, you know, Grandma's waiting for me…"

Her face brightened a bit as she watched him, her chin resting on one hand, clutching the piece of cloth. "I thought you wanted to get away from all them."

"Yes, that… I'm afraid something has come to my attention… yes," he cleared his throat nervously. "I should be home for Christmas. With my family. A bother as they may be, Heavens, they're all I have. So… Sarah, I bid you good evening, and I hope to see you tomorrow."

Sarah smiled as he walked to door. "Merry Christmas, Delbert."

He waved to her. "And a merry Christmas to you!" And with that he left, humming "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" to himself in all good cheer.

Jim had never seen such a colorful group of guests. Most were staying for the holiday to visit with family down in the hamlet. Others were just seeking a spot to settle for the night and share the spirit. His mother whipped up a whole vat of eggnog, and soon men and women, alien and human alike, were brimming with it. Jim sipped at his own mug of cocoa, watching as the guests roared with laughter and bellowed Christmas carols, shaking dust off the rafters with the merry sound. Sullen as he was, Jim couldn't help but catch the feeling. He found himself smiling and laughing, singing along to the songs he knew and clapping to the ones he didn't, even (much to his surprise as well as everyone else's) getting swept up into a two-step with the cranky toad lady that had visited weeks ago. Sarah prepared what food was left in the stores and it was passed around with relish, washed down with eggnog and caroling. The excitement did not fade until late in the night, when the guests began to stumble wearily up to their rooms, still hiccupping bars of unintelligible Christmas babble.

He sat by the big window, turning the empty mug about in his hands as he set his cheek against the cold glass. Patches lay curled up on the windowsill, purring softly. Sarah was picking up dishes and mugs still dripping with the foamy drink, every once in awhile glancing at her son. Jim was gazing out at the stars, lost in thought.

Jim didn't really believe in wishes. All he ever heard in his life was the ultimatum of "Life's rough, live with it". Dreams just throw you off, bury you. Make you weak, a coward. But Jim was a dreamer. He wasn't ready to trust in that world, not just yet. Since he was carried back into the light after the mining incident, he was only getting used to the fact that not everything was in his power to fix. That he might need help sometimes. Jim placed his hand on the window, looking out at the stars, and found himself speaking to them in his head.

I don't know if anyone can hear me, he thought, but I know I never ask for much. I tried everything. It didn't work. I know I wasn't gonna ask for anythin' this Christmas, but… I decided to change my mind. There's something I'd like. For my daddy to come home. So I can see him. And tell him… I still need him. I'd like…I wish… my daddy would come home. For Christmas. Please, that's all I want…

"Jim?" His mother said behind him, jostling him from his silent prayers. "Are you all-right?"

"Huh?" Jim looked back at her. "Oh… yeah, Mom, I'm fine."

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders with a grin. "Are you excited about Christmas tomorrow?"

He smiled up at her. "Yeah."

"What'd you wish for?"

"Oh… nothing."

Her smile faded, and she looked out at the stars. Snowflakes glittered beyond the pane. Patches looked up at the two with the tinkle of her silver bell, round eyes inquisitive. Sarah hugged her son's shoulders gently, and Jim held on to her hand.

"Merry Christmas, Mom."

"Merry Christmas, my solar flare."