Angel Look Down - gena fisher

He had every intention of going up to his apartment, fixing himself a sandwich and spending the evening watching some sappy holiday episode of a stupid TV show before climbing into bed and going to sleep. He'd spent every Christmas Eve this way for as long as he could remember. Even his marriage hadn't broken the pattern; married in January, divorced in November, same ol' same ol'. But this year something made him turn left down the hallway instead of right to the elevator. That same inexplicable force soon had him staring at the storage locker he kept in the basement. It wasn't until he picked up the box marked in Carolyn's precise hand - Xmas tree & dec. that Jim Ellison realized he missed celebrating Christmas.

"What the hell?" He mumbled to himself and carried the box upstairs. His ex-wife had left this lone artifact, taking everything from an expensive couch they purchased a month after the wedding to a rubber spatula she'd picked up two days before walking out. But she left the damn tree.

Jim fixed his sandwich and ate it while staring at the cardboard box. He could picture every item within it despite the fact none of them had ever been used. Carolyn had wanted a big family get-together with snow and pumpkin pie and presents under the tree and knowing it would end up some Plummer Family fiasco, Jim had balked. Big fight - one more straw - end of marriage. So why these sugarplum dreams now? Ellison sighed, rinsed his dishes and set about opening the box with dogged determination. Who knew, Blair might come home tonight and get a big kick out of it. Jim laughed softly to himself, Sandburg was out with Heather - no, Hannah and had been every night for two weeks, he wouldn't notice Santa and his elves frolicking naked on the dining room table when and if he came home. Jim still hadn't met the girl and knew nothing about her except that she left an apricot scent on Blair's clothing and skin. It made his flesh crawl whenever he smelled it and the resulting annoyance manifested itself in yelling at Sandburg. No wonder the kid had been avoiding him.

Maybe he'd dug the tree out subconsciously as a peace offering. A fake tree - well, it was a start. Jim set to work unfolding the branches until he had a vaguely tree shaped form. Lights were added next, strung with careful attention before hanging ornaments in neat rows around the conical shape. "Not bad," he told himself and stood back to admire his handiwork. "Only one more thing," Jim whispered.

He trotted up the stairs to his bedroom and pulled a tattered box from the back of his closet. Jim closed his eyes, holding it to his chest for a long moment before returning to the tree. Slowly, he peeled back the dusty flaps. The angel's halo was tilted over her silky hair at a rakish angle, making her look more saucy than saintly. Jim smiled in rare pleasure. This one ornament was all he had of his mother. It had been a gift and he'd kept it safe all the years since, never once freeing the little angel from her box. Twenty five years she had sat there in her cardboard prison - waiting patiently for him to regain the belief which had been stolen away from him that night so long ago.

"It's a magic angel, Jimmy," Grace Ellison had told her son as they decorated the tree. "Put it on top of the tree and if you love with a pure heart any Christmas wish you make will come true." And so a nine year old boy and climbed out of bed on Christmas Eve, and knelt to pray beneath her wings. Christmas morning there had been bicycles and skateboards, games and models, but Grace had not come home. She had not magically given up her new found freedom and returned to the two boys who needed her. Knowing it was his fault, that his love wasn't pure enough, he wasn't good enough, had hurt more than her absence and so Jim had packed away the angel and vowed never to wish for anything again.

Jim lifted the fragile decoration with trembling hands, time had yellowed her snowy gown and moths eaten a hole in one wing but she retained her dreamy smile as if it didn't matter. "I'm a fool," Jim whispered to her and his breath made her wings flutter. He set her high among the branches, where she gazed over the loft. She seemed to be searching for something, but he could no more help her find it than he could help himself. Far away bells began to ring. Jim looked down at his watch - midnight - Christmas Day. With no thought og what he was about to do, he sank to his knees beneath the boughs, face aglow with the tiny strands of lights and heart ablaze with longing.

"Please, just once," Jim whispered, "let me love someone and them love me back." His throat closed tightly and words would not come for the longest time. "Make him see me," Jim rasped, "what's in my heart. I'll give anything if he would love me and never walk away." Every thought, every beat of his heart echoed with the feelings he carried inside him, he showed to the angel, making her understand without words how much love he had locked within his heart.

And when he opened his eyes - Jim Ellison knelt alone in his apartment, beneath the boughs of a fake Christmas tree his ex-wife had wisely refused. Jim found a smile, one which mocked the foolish hope of a lonely man. The angel continued to gaze down at him, her face serene. "I should have known," Jim said and shook his head, "thanks anyway." How could an angel grant him the love he wanted when his heart wasn't pure? His motives were selfish; he needed, he wanted, he desired. He knew Blair liked him but Sandburg would never want him and he could no longer fool himself into thinking it would ever change, with or without magic. To Blair he was a friend, a companion and an opportunity. Jim turned the lights off, no longer enchanted with their glow and trudged up the stairs to his bed.

He lay there for a long time with only the stars shining down and his own thoughts for company. He must have dozed for a while because he opened his eyes and the room glowed golden. He thought at first it was morning but a sound from below made him peer over the railings. The Christmas tree radiated a light so bright it hurt to look at it in the dim loft. Drawn to it, he crept down the stairs and there beneath the branches of a dime-store tree sat Blair.

"Chief?" His voice brought Blair to his feet, not startled but with a grace so breathtaking Jim gasped. Tears shimmered on the younger man's face and Jim felt a fist squeeze his heart. "Chief, what's wrong," he whispered and reached out to enfold his partner in the safety of his arms.

"I love you," Blair said so softly Jim almost missed it in the beat of his heart. "I came home and saw the tree and," he looked up at Jim, searching his face by the pure light twinkling around them, "I knew that I loved you." Jim pressed his face to Blair's curls, letting those silken strands absorb the silent tears which sprang to his eyes. "I wanted to tell you before," Blair went on, "but I was afraid and then it was all so beautiful and...." He shrugged and Jim kissed him. The warmth of the kiss chased away the chill a life lived alone had left inside him. Jim stared up at the angel and her painted eye seemed to wink in the light. He offered up a silent prayer before spreading a blanket on the floor and pulling Blair into his embrace.

Heart filled to overflowing, arms filled with Blair, Jim Ellison slept beneath the wings of an angel and in the heart of the man who loved him with a strength and purity to match his own.

The End.

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