OOM: Christmas present

[obligatoryass]

Logan wakes up on the beach, gasping for air, as if he's just run miles and miles and miles, maybe at altitude.

"Whoa," he says. "Dude."

Finally catching his breath, he stands, a little wobbly on his feet, and shakes his head to clear it.

"Dude. That was just...messed up."

Hearing his own voice steadies him a bit more, brings him out of his past and into the present more than before.

That's when Logan notices the beach is...different. There's a bonfire blazing brightly a ways down the beach, and as Logan approaches it, he sees a feast - hams and turkeys and pies and sides galore. He stares as he spots a man reclining on a beach chair, holding a torch, and steps closer, hesitantly.

"Come closer, man! Come closer, and know me better!"

Logan squints, confused. "Dr. Hodgins?"

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[bugsandslime]

The man plants the torch in the sand next to his chair and stands, rubbing his hands briskly on the legs of his jeans and then shoving them comfortably in the pockets of his green jacket.

"Not exactly," he says.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Logan."

[obligatoryass]

"Can't imagine why," Logan says sarcastically. "I haven't just been dragged through my past by someone who's not exactly Amy, or anything."

The ghost is rather shorter than he'd expected. "Aren't you supposed to be enormous? A giant? Something like that?"

[bugsandslime]

The Ghost of Christmas Present raises an eyebrow.

"You need to start learning to think outside of the box, kid."

"Think of me as your own personal Yoda. Size matters not, and all that jazz."

[obligatoryass]

Logan mutters, "Great, I got stuck with the geeky ghost with a Star Wars fetish. Is the next ghost gonna wear Vader-gear?"

Seriously, where is his subconscious finding these people?

"So, where to now, Yoda?"

[bugsandslime]

The Ghost picks up his torch, holding it momentarily under his chin to send the recesses of his face into shadow.

"Dude, you have no idea."

And that's all the Ghost is going to say about that.

He jerks his head toward the upper part of the beach where the lights of Neptune are strung in a wavering line.

"Let's go for a little walk," he says, and begins to lead the way across the sand toward the town.

[obligatoryass]

Logan hangs back a little, too nervous to walk closely, but follows obediently. Because really, what else is he gonna do? These spirits are clearly not going to leave him alone.

[bugsandslime]

The Ghost glances over his shoulder, observing Logan's straggling.

"You're going to have to move faster than that," he observes.

He extends his free arm to Logan.

"It's not a robe, but you get the idea, right?"

[obligatoryass]

"Close enough," Logan says and takes hold of the green hoodie. "Here we go."

And there they do go, seeing every type of Christmas imaginable:

At war, in the deserts of Iraq, where cheer is found in a package from home or an e-mail from a loved one.

At sea, where sailors share a toast and meal far from any land, keeping Christmas in their hearts. In homes where they do not celebrate the birth of Christ one bit, but where the American traditions of Christmas hold strong and mean as much as the religious trappings do to the faithful.

At the grocery stores, where amidst the bustle of last minute-shopping, customers smile and offer cheerful greetings despite the fact that they've burnt the turkey or spoiled the ham.

At the mall, where there may be a sense of desperation as shoppers search of the perfect gift, there is also jubilation when they find it.

At each of these homes, the Spirit seemed to add a special shine, an extra dose of joy. When angry words were spoken over a broken toy, the spirit seemed to restore good humor, and they parted on friendly terms.

"Is it you, that makes these scenes so cheerful?" Logan asks suspiciously.

[bugsandslime]

"Why would they need me to do that?" the Ghost of Christmas Present asks.

He seems to know that that is not a yes, nor is it a no, if the sidelong smile he gives Logan is any indication.

"You think no one can be cheerful without my help?"

The scene shifts around them again to a hallway. The floor is worn tile, the beige walls are brightened by bulletin boards and fliers, and the message boards on each door all seem to bear scrawls speaking of good wishes and exciting plans.

At the end of the hall a pair of double doors stands open, spilling out light and music and laughter.

"Now, this looks like a group who knows how to enjoy the season," the Ghost says. "Let's go take a look, shall we?"

[obligatoryass]

Logan had been prepared to answer the question, but he hadn't been prepared for the sudden change of scene.

The Whitman Hall holiday party was about as close to good wholesome fun as Hearst College got. The music was cranked and there was booze, but Whitman was largely full of upperclassmen who had gotten party-till-you-puke out of their systems freshman year.

Still, exams were over. Vacation lay ahead. The good times were rolling.

Mini-Christmas lights had been draped over any object in the common room that had sat still long enough to be festooned. A massive spread of food was laid out on a pair of folding tables. And a tree had been set up in front of the window, decorated with improbable items, including a Barbie doll in a short black dress with feathery black wings.

Parker was taking some good natured ribbing over the tree topper.

“Hey Parker,” one of the guys said, “you’re, like, one of those special angels. What to you call them?”

“Guardian of dumbass rich boys?” a coed in a pink sweater volunteered.

Parker just rolled her eyes and half grinned. “Okay,” she said. “You guys are running a few holidays behind now.”

"What happened to Logan Echolls, anyway?" Pink Sweater asked. "Did he go into rehab or something?"

"Nah. I think his family bought him a job or something somewhere," one of the other guys replied. "Such a rough freakin' life, huh?"

Logan blanches, hearing that, and on seeing Parker's slightly disapproving (but also amused) expression, he looks even more distressed.

As the conversation turns to another subject, he turns to the spirit. "Is this all I am? A joke?"

[bugsandslime]

"This surprises you?" the Ghost asks. "Halloween isn't exactly my territory, but I've heard the water cooler gossip. And that's just the tip of it."

The Ghost looks at Logan and something that might be pity crosses his face.

Whether it is for Logan or for somebody else? That remains to be seen.

"But no. You aren't a joke to everyone."

"I know at least one person who doesn't feel even remotely like laughing right now because of you."

And the scene shifts again. To a suburban street. One that Logan should find all too familiar.

[obligatoryass]

Too familiar indeed. And then they're inside, in a room Logan never really entered, barely even noticed. He notices the details now.

Trina is sitting with her hands on her knees, in the armchair next to the Christmas tree, staring at something on the far wall. Or maybe at nothing at all.

After a moment or ten, Virginie comes in with a mug in her hands. "Tea," she says, giving it to Trina, and sits down in the other chair.

Trina takes the mug, wraps her hands around it, but doesn't drink any of it. "Thank you. Eliza's . . .?"

"She is asleep," says Virginie.

"Visions of sugar plums," Trina says, sharp and dry.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it," Trina says.

Another moment, and then Virginie says, "So that was your brother?"

"That was Logan, yes."

"And will he be visiting very often?"

Trina shakes her head. "No."

"Are you all right, Trina?"

"I'm . . . I'm fine. Thank you. You can go on ahead and call it a night, if you want. I'll lock up."

"Bonne nuit, then. Try not to stay up too late."

Only someone who knew Trina well would be able to tell just how forced the smile is. "But I have to wait up for Santa."

"Not too late," Virginie says.

Trina nods. But if the body language is anything to go by, she's going to be in that chair for a long, long time.

Logan tries to reach out to her, to say...something. Anything. To apologize, first, to promise to do better second.

But he stops, knowing she can't see or hear him. That's one of the basic rules of the story, isn't it?

"These things are only shadows..." he murmurs, then looks at the spirit. "She wouldn't believe it anyway. Probably shouldn't, really."

[bugsandslime]

"Sure," the Ghost says mildly, nodding.

"It would be easier if they were nothing but shadows. Easier if you can tell yourself that there's nothing left to try for."

"You lie to yourself more convincingly than you'll ever lie to anyone else."

[obligatoryass]

"Maybe I'm the shadow," he says quietly.

And he watches Trina again, reaches out to touch her again, this time not stopping himself.

His hand goes right through her shoulder and he sighs.

"You got anything else, Spirit?"

[bugsandslime]

"No. Not yet."

The Ghost is equally quiet, watching as Trina stirs momentarily at the sound of a snuffle from the baby monitor, and settles back into her reverie as the sounds from the nursery promptly even out into soft breathing again.

Turns his gaze to Logan, and suddenly the Ghost looks more worn and tired than he had on the beach.

"Me? I'm played out," he says with a smile.

"It's all you from here, dude."

[obligatoryass]

Logan nods. For the first time, he's starting to understand what it means to be a human being. It's not something he can explain yet, but it's starting to become clearer. How to be a human being...well. That's a lesson that he has no idea how to manage.

"In some versions, you - the Spirit, I mean - only live for one night. I mean, of the movie. Is that - is that the case?"

[bugsandslime]

"Dude? You watch way too much TV. Try getting out more."

If the Ghost is beginning to look a bit faded, it could be a trick of the light. But his blue eyes are still bright and sharp.

"My time with you is just about up though." The Ghost shrugs. "So I guess in its way that amounts to the same thing."

"Have to clear the stage for the big final act."

[obligatoryass]

Logan could point out that he did try getting out, and it didn't end so well. But when it's your own stupidity that's to blame, it seems like a fruitless argument to make.

"Right. Well. It's been...educational," Logan says instead.

The ghost does not reply, and is gone a few seconds later. The eyes, however, linger slightly longer than anything else, and Logan suddenly, unnervingly, understands how Alice felt when faced with the Cheshire Cat.

And then he's back on the beach, alone once again.