His phone rang, it was probably Gus…yet again. It seemed after getting married and having a baby, his son was desperate to make Brian into a grandfather. No, thank you.

He didn’t have time to talk to anyone. There were accounts to work on and people to fire, most notably…his new accountant.

“Cynthia, get in here,” he yelled into his phone.

Minutes later Cynthia walked into his office, glaring at him.

“I need the numbers on the Hensley account.”

“Brian, it’s Christmas eve.”

“I do own a calendar. What does it have to do with anything?”

Cynthia sighed. “I sent everyone home, I’m going home. My son is coming over. Work yourself to death but you’re not taking all of us with you. Ted was enough.”

She slammed his door on the way out. He hated when people blamed him for Ted’s heart attack. It wasn’t his fault that Ted abused drugs for a while and it finally caught up with him. Just because Brian had been yelling at Ted when he keeled over from a heart attack didn’t’ mean he had the caused it.

Later that night, he was still working hard when an ice-cold chill seemed to cut through him like a knife. His office door blew open causing papers to fly off his desk.

“What the hell?” he muttered to himself.

Standing up, he crossed to the door to shut it. After slamming it shut, he locked it.

“I always wondered what it would feel like being Brian Kinney.”

Brian was proud of himself for not screaming. He turned around, clutching his chest. He blinked a few times at the man in his chair. Ted Schmidt, but not the Ted Schmidt that fell over and died in this very office. No. This Ted he had never met. This Ted looked to be about twenty-one. The age, stress and everything else seemed to not touch him. Brian hated to admit it but he was quite the looker when he was younger.

What kind of drug flashback was this?

“You’re dead,” he told the hallucination.

“That I am. I want to thank you for taking care of Blake for me.”

“Blake’s already moved on with someone else,” Brian said meanly.

Ted laughed. “Well, I should hope so, he’s only forty-five. What a terrible, lonely life he would lead if he didn’t.”

“Go away. I didn’t want you here when you were alive, I definitely don’t want you here now you’re worm food.”

“I was cremated, as you know. Since I was sprinkled in the Atlantic Ocean, it’s a better guess I was fish food.”

“You probably gave them food positioning.”

This was ridiculous, he was arguing with a figment of his own imagination. “And get out of my chair.”

“Still the same old Brian Kinney. I wasn’t the slightest bit surprised you were working on Christmas Eve and not home with your family.”

“My family isn’t home,” he snapped before closing his mouth. He hoped ghost Ted thought he was talking about Gus.

“Still? After all these years? Justin wouldn’t want you to still be grieving.”

“I’m not,” he lied.

Twenty years ago, everything inside of him died along with Justin. He never forgave Lindsay for pushing him into getting Justin to go New York. Justin had gotten a job as a bartender. One night a drunk didn’t like getting cut off. According to witness he didn’t even see the knife the man pulled, Justin’s back was turned at the time. The man leant over the bar and stabbed Justin in the neck before anyone could stop him. The jugular was severed, he died gargling in his own blood.

Brian was accused of losing all sense of humanity after that. He guessed that was partly true. He fought for years not to let Justin close. Then one day a drunk with a knife on the fourth of July took it all away from him.

His relationship with Gus was strained to say the least. If his son wasn’t such a good person, he would have written Brian off years ago.

Brian hadn’t even gone to Carl’s funeral, or his own mother’s. Blake chose to have a small ceremony on board of Ted’s boat, Brian had been there.

“It’s okay to still love and miss him. But it’s not okay to shut everyone else out.”

“Shouldn’t you be haunting your own husband.”

“Blake is happy, you on the other hand are the furthest thing from happy.”

Brian growled in frustration. “Go away, Theodore.”

“Why? You killed me. I thought you’d like to know.”

“You had a heart attack, that’s hardly my fault.”

“Let’s see. I had been working eighteen hour days. Not getting enough sleep, not eating right and the pressure of your screaming in my face. It was just too much for my old ticker.”

“Shut up.” He didn’t want to hear anymore.

“I will after I say what I need to say. Tonight, is the night for you to see that error of your ways. Before the stroke of three, you will be visited by three ghosts.”

“Let me guess, past present and future?” he asked, rolling his eyes.

“On the nose, bye Bri,” Ted said before disappearing.

“I was kidding,” he yelled at the empty chair.

Looking at his office, he decided he needed to go home to bed. If his hallucinations were that real, he needed sleep.

Once he was home, he crawled in to bed. The room was huge, but it missed a blue-eyed blonde. After all the bought this house for him.

“Get up, lazy bones,” a voice interrupted his sleep.

Opening his bleary eyes, he saw a short, fat, round man with a white beard.

“This has got to be someone’s idea of a joke,” he bitched.

“Fraid not, kid.”

“I didn’t believe in Santa when I was a kid, no reason to believe in him now.”

“Here I am taking time out of my busiest night of the year to help you. And what do I get? A smart mouth. We have people to see and all that.”

“If I do this will you leave me the hell alone?” He couldn’t believe he was going along with this insanity. Thankfully, he was still asleep, and this was a nightmare.

“Your awfully bossy,” the man that looked like a mall Santa said. “Fine, fine. First, take my hand.”

As soon as Brian’s skin touched the man’s, they blinked away. Even for a dream it felt very real. His vision cleared, and he saw they were in an old house. It looked vaguely familiar.

There was a small tree in the corner with a little girl lying beside it, staring at the lights. He didn’t remember Claire that young, she looked about three. A baby’s wail filled the small room, and Claire jumped up. It was only after the she ran to the small cradle, that he saw him. Even as clueless as he was when it came to babies, he knew he was much too big for the cradle. The sides were low, if it was Christmas time he had to be eight months old.

“Shy…Brian, don’t wake daddy,” Claire said petting his head, she could barely reach.

He looked around expecting his mother but didn’t see her. He saw his old man passed out on the couch, he had forgotten the man had ever been young. He would’ve been twenty-five.

“Oh look, she’s trying to take care of you,” Santa said.

Brian looked and sure enough, Claire was using all her might to pick him up out of the crib. It looked like it was something they did a lot, he half crawled over, and sort of just fell on her. She giggled quietly, “Brian, we got to be quiet. Are you hungry?” she whispered.

Baby Brian made grabby hands, which he guessed was a yes. She went into the kitchen and he crawled after her. Brian followed them.

Claire pushed a chair up to the counter. She then climbed up on it, Baby Brian using the chair to stand up. Claire then climbed on top of the counter. She opened a cabinet and pulled out a box of cereal. Baby Brain saw the bounty of their hard work and clapped his hands together.

He moved fast when Claire went to get down but her foot missed the chair and she fell to the ground. She fell through his arms like he wasn’t there.

“Sorry, can’t interact,” Santa said.

Brian ignored him, and looked at the two kids. Claire was rubbing her knee and baby Brain was petting her on the head. She wiped her eyes.

“Mommy should be home soon, but no baby. Aunt Car said the baby wasn’t strong enough.”

“Baby? What baby?” Brian asked.

“Didn’t you know?” Santa returned.

“Know what?”

“Well, Jack did tell her to get an abortion with you, and she refused. Jack didn’t take no for an answer this time, he beat her until she lost the baby. The damage was so severe she couldn’t have anymore. Saddest part was, she was leaving him. She had enough money to run and a place for you all to stay.”

“What happened? Why didn’t she leave?”

“She felt losing the baby and being infertile was her punishment for planning on leaving her husband.”

“This the stupidest bullshit I’ve ever heard,” Brian said.

“Where are you two brats?” Jack’s slurred voice yelled.

Brian watched as Claire stood up and handed Baby Brian a handful of the cereal.

“Shh…we got to be real quiet. He’ll go back to sleep.”

Baby Brian shoved the entire handful in his mouth. That continues until Baby Brian started making another gesture with his hands.

Claire nodded her little head, “I’ll get it.”

He watched her repeat the thing with the chair. This time she put water in a bottle. Thankfully, she didn’t fall this time.

“Take my hand,” Santa said.

“We can’t leave them alone,” Brian said.

“It’s already happened. They lived, as we know.”

Brian hesitated but took the man’s hand. They blinked away again. This time they were in the childhood home he remembered. He saw himself hiding in his usual space, behind the couch.

“Brian Allen Kinney. Come out of there, right now,” his mother yelled.

She had a fading bruise that wasn’t hidden well with the makeup. Little Brian squeeze out from behind the couch.

“Yes, mama?”

“Time for presents,” she said happily.

“Yay!”

“Claire Eileen Kinney, you come in here too.”

Claire ran in, the whole side of her face was black and blue. Brian couldn’t help but to notice his child self was favoring his left arm. No doubt bruises covering him under the pajamas he was wearing. He was about four and Claire was about seven.

His mother placed two wrapped presents in front of them.

“Go on now,” she encouraged.

Little Brian tore into his gift. As soon as he saw it, memories flooded back. A baby doll. He had begged his mother for one. His father heard and knocked him into the wall. Later, Claire had snuck him one of hers. His father saw, claimed Claire was trying to turn him into a fag. He hit her…hard across the face.

Their mom got a punch for trying to stop him. It was one of his first memories.

“You must hide it, and only play with your father isn’t home,” his mother said. He had forgotten her like this, before the alcohol and bitterness turned her into the woman he knew now.

Tears streamed down Little Brian’s face. “I promise, Mama,” he said hugging the little blonde doll to his chest.

“Away we go,” Santa said before grabbing his hand again.

The house was dark, not even the crappy tree in the corner was lit.

A girl’s laughter could be heard down the hall. Brian followed the sound, walking to what he knew was Claire’s bedroom. The door was open and he walked in.

Inside was fifteen-year-old Claire and twelve-year-old Brian.

“I can’t believe you said that to him,” Claire said, setting off in another fit of giggles.

“He’s lucky, I didn’t clock him,” Pre-teen Brian grumbled.

Brian watched the exchange, he had forgotten how easily Claire and he got along at one time. He couldn’t remember when it changed.

“Enough about him. Guess what?”

“What?” Preteen Brian asked, rolling his eyes.

“I met a boy.”

Then he remembered it all. It was jealousy, first on his part later it was Claire’s.

“And?”

“And he likes me back.”

That was the start of the end. He stopped talking to her so openly. He stopped every loving feeling he had. The saddest part was, at the time she had done nothing to warrant the treatment. Now that he was on the other side of fifty and Claire was in a home he paid for, he wasn’t as upset at her. Pissed beyond belief she was willing to believe that fucking monster of a kid of hers. But as the years went by and Gus grew older, he put himself in her shoes. A sibling they hadn’t talked to nicely in over fifteen years, and his child said they were abused by them. He might have done worse than her, why would she talk to him. He had never encouraged it.

“Can we leave?” he asked Santa.

“Sure thing.”

Like that, they were gone again.

“Michael Charles Novotny, get your little ass down here now.”

They were in Michael’s bedroom. Brian was smoking a joint while Michael was freaking out, pot always made him paranoid. Brian laughed at sixteen-year-old Brian and Michael.

“God, I can’t believe we were so young.” Seeing Michael again eased his heart.

“Shit, Brian put that out. My mom is going to come in here any minute,” Michael said, grabbing some air fresher and spraying it.

“Don’t spray that stuff on me,” Punk Brian said.

“I said put that out. My mom is going to flip.”

Brian smiled at the scene. He remembered this, it was Christmas Eve and Deb had invited him to stay for the holiday. She had finally realized that his parents were nothing like parents should be. Even though she barely had enough money to feed and clothe her and Michael, she had gotten him the same amount of presents she had for Michael. She had gotten him his first leather jacket. It was one of his best Christmas memories.

But he also remembered that in five minutes Deb bursts through the door and screams at them for an hour. The air fresher did not fool her one bit.

“We should probably get going,” Brian said to Santa.

The next stop was his loft, he was around twenty-five and in middle of an orgy. While Brian smiled, Santa rolled his eyes and they blinked out again. This time, he was in the loft with Justin.

His heart ached seeing the blonde again. So young, so full of life. So Justin. It had been their first Christmas knowing each other. Debbie was making Justin stay with her and Vic on Christmas. She didn’t want him being sad about not being able to be home. It was right before his parents announced their impending divorce. But Christmas Eve was all Brian’s, he’d be damned if he let Justin know he was happy to have him there. God, how much time had he wasted trying to push him away?

“You got me a present?” Justin asked excitedly.

“That’s for Michael,” Mean Brian said.

“Oh, that makes sense.”

Mean Brian turned back to the computer, so he didn’t see what happened next. For the first time, Brian saw Justin walk away from Michael’s present and grab a gold and silver wrapped present under the bed.

“Brian, I have something for you,” Justin said, his smile a little forced.

“If it doesn’t involve your mouth and my cock, I don’t really have time for it,” Mean Brian said without looking up.

Brian watched Justin’s face fall and he shoved the present back under the bed.

“He never gave it to me,” Brian said. “What was it?”

“Do you care?” Santa asked.

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

“A ring. A silly little ring from a love-sick school boy, that’s all.”

Brian knew at the time, if Justin would have given it to him, he would have thrown it back in his face. But now, he wished more than anything he had it. In their life together, Brian hadn’t really allowed Justin to give him anything. Just like his drawing, he had to buy that himself, even knowing Justin would give him anything he asked for.

The next stop was all too familiar, Kinnetik. He knew instantly what Christmas Eve it was, the first one after Justin died. There was no sign of Christmas to be seen in the entire building, he had forbidden it.

“Brian, Ma would really like for you to come to dinner tonight,” Michael said, his eyes pleading with Brian.

Lost Brian didn’t look up, he just kept typing. “I don’t have time.”

“That’s bullshit and we both know it. Jennifer is going to be there, Molly too.”

“Why would that make me want to go.”

“You aren’t the only one who lost him, Brian. We can’t lose you too.”

“Is there anything you need?” Lost Brian asked, his tone void of emotion.

“Yeah, my best friend back.”

“Didn’t you hear, he died.”

Michael sighed and turned away.

“He was only trying to help you,” Santa said.

“I know, but at the time…I didn’t want help. I wanted to work and drink myself to death.”

“At the time?”

“Fine, still do. I lost them all. I lost Michael, he couldn’t keep pulling me from the edge without falling over it himself. He had to make the best choice for himself and his family. I don’t blame him and Ben for moving to Canada to be closer to the girls and kids. Then I lost Emmett, or should I say, I made him leave. He needed help, I couldn’t be that for him. Ted tried but I wouldn’t let him have the time off. Emmett couldn’t stay around all that sadness anymore. The depression was going to kill him. I’d lived with mine so long it was part of me, but it was killing him. I pushed Debbie away, kept Ted at a distance. Let’s get out of here.”

They blinked away, and they were back in the house he bought Justin.

“So, what did you think of your past?” Santa asked.

“I was there the first time. What do you want me to say?” he said, his voice like steel. His heart had been ripped over and over during their little adventure.

“Nothing, your next visitor will be here soon. Get some rest, Brian.”

And like that, he was gone.

Brian didn’t think he could handle any more visitors. If the next one was present, he wouldn’t get to see Justin again. This night sucked.