Aberrant: 2011 - [XMASNYC09] Christmas Guests

[Gabriel Stone]

Christmas Eve, 2009.

The large playroom was filled with toys of all sorts for all ages. Gabriel sat at the far end of the room, tuning his guitar. His typical professional appearance had been set aside for today and he felt comfortable in just a plain pair of jeans and a t-shirt for once. He chose a red shirt, a polo with some crossed candy canes in place of the usual jockey.

“We’re ready Mr. Law.” Spoke Shaunette, the nurse who had helped him plan all this. Two weeks ago Gabriel received a letter addressed to Santa Claus, written by a terminally ill child at Weill Medical College of Cornell University in Manhattan. All she asked for was to spend Christmas with novas so she could, if only for one night feel like she was a nova too. Immune to the ravages of disease and blessed with perfect health, perfect beauty, and long life. “Should we send them in?”

He looked at the assembled novas. Friends and enemies, Utopians and Terats all gathered into this one large room still setting up the presents and food. “Yes, please, and if you could,” the nova pointed to special spot on the floor, directly in front of him. “Please seat Monique here. She’s our special guest tonight, I want to make sure she gets a front row seat.” His charming smile was enough to melt the attractive young nurse as she exited several shades redder then she was when she entered.

It was difficult for Gabriel not to blush himself when every patient in the pediatrics wing (who was capable) shuffled into the room and nearly exploded with excitement when they saw Gabriel Law and his fellow novas all here just for them. A few of the young ladies recognized him and jumped in place, bouncing hysterically for a moment before the staff calmed them down. One even fainted. Several others whispered and pointed, talking to their friends about how cool it was that one of their favorite novas was here.

The price of stardom I suppose. he mused to himself, as they all took a seat in front of him on the soft carpeted floor. Once all settled he looked about and smiled to everyone present: the children, the staff, and he made special note to nod to the collected novas who took time from their Christmas to be here with him, and these children.

”Hi.” He said, clapping his hands in front of him like he really wasn’t sure where to start. “I’m…”

“Gabriel Law.” One of the children, a young boy, said before Gabe could introduce himself. “You’re the musician nova my Grandma thinks is hot.” Muted chuckles rose up from all present.

The nova did his best not to look too embarrassed. “That would be me, and we’re here to hang out with you tonight. A few friends and I got a call from Santa, and he said that someone very special sent a letter to him.” Young Monique’s eyes lit up, but Gabriel acted like he had no idea who had sent the letter. “That very special person, Santa told me, was so nice this year that she not only gets her wish, but all of you are going to get to be a part of it as well.”

“It’s Christmas, and no one deserves to be cooped up in a stuffy old room when there are songs to be sung and presents to unwrap.” He positioned his guitar on his lap, adjusting it until it settled comfortably against his leg. “So, without further delay let me start off with a Christmas song, well, more like a poem actually. My mother used to tell it to me, and when I thought I was too old to sit down and listen to her read it to me, she would write it in a card and leave it where she knew I’d find it.” He sighed- half of it fond memories, half of it regret. “Then we’ll all open gifts and eat lots of food,” he amended, trying to shake his sudden depression. Thinking of his parents always seemed to have that effect, despite the passage of time.

A soft, holiday melody filled the air when Gabriel strummed the first few chords. “It happened one day near December's end,” he began, and suddenly every ear in the room was locked on the euphony of his voice. That seemed to be his gift: capturing the hearts and minds of all who were willing to just lend him an ear. “Two neighbors called upon an old friend. They found his shop so meager and lame made gay with a thousand bows of green. Conrad was sitting with face ashine, when he suddenly stopped as he stitched a twine.”

“He said “Oh friends at dawn today, when the cock was crowing the night away, The Lord appeared in a dream to me, and said 'I'm coming your guest to be!’ So I've been busy with feet astir, and strewing my shop with branches of fir!” Mirthfully he told the tale, using facial expressions and inflection in his voice to help emphasis what his occupied hands could not. “The table is spread and the kettle is shined and over the rafters the holly is twined. Now I'll wait for my Lord to appear, and listen closely so I will hear His step as He nears my humble place, and I'll open the door and look on His face."

“So his friends went home and left Conrad alone, for this was the happiest day he'd known. For long since his family had all passed away and Conrad had spent many a sad Christmas day. But he knew with the Lord as his Christmas guest this Christmas would be the dearest and best.” The lights dimmed, save for the first few rows where sat Gabriel and the children. “So he listened with only joy in his heart and with every sound he would rise with a start. He’d look for the Lord to be at his door, like the vision he'd had a few hours before. So he ran to the window after hearing a sound but all he could see on the snow-covered ground was a shabby beggar whose shoes were torn and all of his clothes were ragged and worn. Yet, Conrad was touched and he went to the door, he said ‘You know, your feet must be frozen and sore. I have some shoes in my shop for you, and a coat that'll keep you warmer too.’"

Around the room he saw his nova guests listening intently. His tone was joyful and the friends that came there this night to share in a night of such magic and joy bolstered his spirit. “So with a grateful heart, the man went away, but Conrad noticed the time of day. He wondered what made the Lord so late and how much longer he'd have to wait.”

“When suddenly he heard a knock he ran to the door!” Children gasped in unison, at the suspense Gabriel inflected in the last statement. “But it was only a stranger once more. A bent old lady with a shawl of black, with a bundle of kindling piled on her back. She asked for only a place to rest, but that was reserved for Conrad's great guest. Her voice seemed to plead,” giggles rose up as Gabriel blessed the room with what was possibly the world’s worst impression of an old woman’s voice. "Don't send me away! Let me rest for awhile, it’s Christmas day!"

“So, Conrad brewed her a steaming cup and told her to sit at the table and sup. After she left he was filled with dismay, for he saw that the hours were slipping away. The Lord hadn't come as he said he would and Conrad felt sure he'd misunderstood.”

“When out of the stillness he heard a cry,” it was a better impression than his old lady, but Gabriel had a few more laughs sent his way as he spoke in a voice meant to mimic that of a young girl. "Please help me, and tell me: where am I?’ So again Conrad opened his friendly door, and stood disappointed as he had twice before. It was only a child who'd wandered away, and was lost from her family on Christmas day. Again, Conrad's heart was heavy and sad, but he knew he should make this little girl glad. So he called her in and he wiped away her tears, and quieted all her childish fears. Then he led her back to her home once more. Yet as he entered, his own darkened door, he knew the Lord was not coming today, for the hours of Christmas had passed away.”

“So he went to his room and he knelt down to pray.” The nova stopped playing, the room was silent as the poem came to its conclusion. “He asked: ‘Dear Lord, why did you delay? What kept you from coming to call on me, for I wanted so much your face to see.’ Then, soft in the silence, a voice he heard. ‘Lift up your head, for I kept my word. Three times my shadow crossed your floor; three times I came to your lonely door.”

Gabriel rested his elbows upon his knees. Slowly he made eye contact with each person present, even those who lurked silently in the shadows. “I was the beggar with bruised, cold feet. I was the woman whom you gave something to eat, and I was the child, homeless on the street. Three times I knocked and three times I came in and each time I found the warmth of a friend. Of all gifts, love is the best,” he pressed his hand to his heart then slowly swept his hand to all the assembled children. “And I was honored to be your Christmas guest.”

[Primal]

Primal had seen friendlier nights, that was for sure, but he had struck an accord with Law that he would come, he would help, and he would do it because he wanted to and no other reason. It may have been a baseline affair, but the Terat took pride in assisting a fellow nova organize the event.

Hanging the decorations was easy for him, seven foot two inches of nova made for an easy reach. He wasn’t the most popular guy when if came to social events that included baselines however. Primal was big, nasty, and radiated an aura of a predator. Most baselines dared not approach him willingly unless accompanied by someone else. The staff here at the hospital was no different.

After the hour or so it took to organize things, from the setting of the presents, to the placement of the food, a few members started to calm themselves a bit more around him. When Shaunette left the room to gather the children he found a comfortable spot on one of the walls near the entrance, crossed his arms over his chest and one leg over the other, leaned against it and waited.

The children shuffled in and those that caught a glimpse of him, although a bit scared, were nonetheless awe struck by the majesty of the world’s purest hunter. The tall nova grinned as best he could, and even waved one or twice to those brave, or innocent enough to acknowledge he was there. Patiently he waited, and even rolled his eyes in boredom when Yuppy Law mentioned the reading of a poem. Figures. Make it quick. he thought as his patience wore to a close at the scent of all that food.

The first few chords were strummed on the guitar as Gabriel’s enchanting voice mingled with the hymn of the instrument suddenly locked the mighty novas interest. If music soothes the savage beast, this moment was testament to that. He didn’t just lean there and listen, he found himself standing tall and listening. Every chord was so clear and every word sounded as if they were spoken to him and none other.

Lost in the melody the nova thought about how a year could change a person. All he has lost and all he had gained. His eruption was violent and brutal and it stripped everything away from him. His life had been erased, and nothing remained. Not just from him, but also from those he had known. The man who Primal had been was wiped clean from minds of all who ever knew him. Taken from him were the memories of his loving family and close friends. The holiday meals they’d enjoyed every year. Football games on television and laughing and reminiscing with friends and extended family. Gone was the love of his high school sweetheart who had become his wife and lost forever were two young sons who were asleep in bed at this moment waiting for Christmas never knowing their father would never again remember them.

For reasons unknown to him the melody of the poem cried out and tugged on severed heartstrings. With his arms folded the nova felt alone in that room full of people. He missed something but didn’t know what. He missed someone, but didn’t know who. This year had given him power, glory, and infinite potential and he stood puzzled as a completely random thought passed through his mind.

For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

Merry Christmas indeed.

[Mech]

Connor had Met Gabe before, when he'd showed up at the beach party. He knew He was a popular and talented musician. What he hadn't been prepared for was to hear something he'd heard every year in church from when he could understand until now sung so sweetly, so powerfully, to an audience so deserving. He;d heard it many times and this time was no different as he smiled broadly upon hearing it's masterful telling.

The story spoke of those with helping those without, the fortunate helping the unfortunate. He looked around the room at the gathered novas. They were each blessed with things few others would have, with powers and abilities these children would never have, but perhaps what tore at him most was that they all were blessed with a future these children would be denied.

Each of the novas seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. He thought back to all those services in church, How the story had always made him smile, even when he'd been young and not understood.

He thought about his brother Ashton, and his sister, Each now with families of their own, and how they'd be gathering for Christmas with their parents and the rest of the family. He thought back to growing up and all the gifts he'd received, and later on given. He remembered all the smiling faces, the happy songs, and the contentment he'd felt at each Christmas.

His thoughts went over the most stormy part of his life, His relationship with Alessa if it could be Called that, and the situation with Karrie. He didn't know what to think of it, but he decided that it would all work out. If he was meant to be with them, then he would be. Right then it was that simple.

He resolved then and there that tonight he'd do something for these children they wouldn't forget. Gabe was giving them his very best, and at this point Connor was determined that he would do the same, NDA be damned.

"This is the season for miracles." Connor looked at the faces of the children and knew with absolute certainty that tonight in this room, that statement was the unshakeable truth.

[Fade]

Fade had been around unbelievably beautiful novas before, and stunning baselines before them. Not like this. And the music, dear God, the music. It was...it...

Fade suddenly decided to leave his attitude at the door, every bit of it he could purge from himself. All of himself he could purge from himself.

Fade remembered a Christmas one year, a lonnnng time ago. A Christmas where both his parents had been present. There had been a tree, a huge, beautiful tree, of course, because what else would they have? And there had been a mountain of presents. Fade had been sure then that they were the best part, contrary to what the spirit of Christmas dictated that he feel. Now he wasn't so sure.

Fade was beginning to realized dimly, in the parts of his mind he threw thoughts that didn't belong and didn't merit examination, that maybe there had been something else lurking over the Christmas, something which he could now only recognize, with the benefit of hindsight. His seven-year-old self had been oblivious to his parents smiles, the way they looked at him and each other, as he gleefully ripped apart the expensive wrapping paper. He had been oblivious to the haze of warmth and love that lay over everything like an invisible, benign layer of dust.

But he noticed it when it was gone. Of course he did. His mother never cooked, and the food was delicious as always. And she never cleaned, and the house was pristine as always. And she rarely laughed, so the sounds were the same. But the haze wasn't the same. The feeling of the world was different without her in it - or at least without her in his little part, where he wanted her. And she was well-off, but his father was richer and more respected by half, so Adrian ignored the twinging in his gut and coldly gave her his answer. He would be staying with his father.

Not his father. His father's money. The house of his father, perhaps.

Fade felt like crying, and would have, if not for the presence of other novas. He knew, intellectually, that his problems were not so great compared to others (the children around him for instance) but that didn't matter and had never mattered. He came first.

He forced back the tears, made his breathing even, and cooly surveyed everyone from behind his dark, stylish glasses.

[Ravenshire]

The story, told by an angel, had that touched quality to it. In his mind’s eye, the story was meant to be told by that old man. Maybe Gabe should have worn some make-up – something to give him a worn out, desperate feel. You couldn’t fault his showmanship and delivery though.

Christmas memories were far from Ravenshire’s mind. He had few good ones and those were distant. He didn’t wallow in these sad, forgotten times. Instead, he took in the very real Christmas memories being created by these kids here today. What were their stories? How would this brief encounter with another, totally different - so free of physical pain and sickness – form of life change them? Help them? What where memories worth?

The child’s face formed into a frown. God wasn’t coming, was he? The story wound down toward its lesson and Raven studied the child’s face. He watched those memories form. In the end, when the message sunk in, the kid’s eyes lit up and he understood. Daniel couldn’t help but smile as well. He still thought about how Gabe could have done it better, but that was Daniel’s nature – to not settle for what was there, but to try and make it better. Ravenshire laughed at that foible within himself. The child looked up at him and laughed a too.

When the young boy realized he was laughing with an actual nova, he nearly stopped. Ravenshire didn’t’ let him though. He brought him in with a conspiratorial wink and kept him smiling.

Smile and wonderment.

,,

“What do you do?” the boy asked.

“He’s Ravenshire,” another child, a girl interrupted. “He lives here in the city like us. I think he makes money.”

Daniel beamed at her.

“I help other people make money. What I really do – what I want to do is help people. Like the doctors and nurses her with you every day.”

“Can you be here every day, with us?” the boy asked.

Daniel had to be honest with them.

“It would break my heart. Honestly, I don’t know I have the strength to go through what you two do every day. I think that you manage it and can be here with smiles is one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen. You are the brave ones – the courageous ones that inspire.”

Ravenshire’s voice was filled with sincerity and it came home to roost in their hearts. He admired them. They did have courage. They were brave.

The boy leaned out of his wheelchair and dangled his IV precariously to give Ravenshire a big hug. It was a precious gesture, but still Daniel felt a weight upon him, as if he was being watched – never being left alone, yet lonely.

“It’s okay. You can have some of my courage,” the boy told him, and Daniel took it.

Just like the message in the story.

[Kittie]

If the teller was mesmerizing, and the tale he spun with such sensitivity and obvious emotion even more so, the rapt expressions on the faces of the children were... holy. Sanctified, somehow, in the purity of their innocence, the strength of their courage, and their love of wonder. Though she expected no angels to descend from the heavens in a saintly, ethereal choir, as she listened to the story, Kittie realized that they were present nonetheless. She was surrounded by them, in fact, and her liquid green eyes welled with tears as she hugged her arms to her chest, lingering just beyond the table weighted with treats that might well have been forbidden the children on any other occasion.

God didn't come as some luminous messiah, some majestic figure to inspire awe and fear. He came in secret, walking in the guise of those who inspired charity, compassion, and love, she mused as she watched an entire range of emotions play across the faces of the listeners, knowing that any who glanced in her direction would see precisely the same thing. It was impossible not to lose herself to the tale Gabriel wove so convincingly, and when it was ended, such an overwhelming feeling of joy filled her heart that her tears spilled over, tracing silent tracks through the golden fur on her cheeks.

As the children laughed, in relief and in understanding, she felt as if an immense weight had suddenly been lifted from her shoulders. Their poor, frail bodies, ravaged by disease and infirmity, were only vessels... only tiny disguises surely worn by seraphim as they dwelt in the world of Man until they were called home.

It was something she'd never felt in the church of her parents, something that a priest reading a beautiful Mass in perfect Latin could not give her. It was a sudden feeling that she must be close to God here, to the idea of perfect purity and love, and as she walked trembling into the hall to compose herself, she realized something else, too.

If these children can face Death so bravely, so resolutely, and still keep their innocence... If they can hold so much strength in their little bodies... What right do I have to feel sorry for myself? I hope, she thought as she took a deep breath and offered a tearful smile to one of the attendants, that I can give to them just a little of what they've given to me.