The early morning sky was overcast, clouds covering any hints of the sun with a thick gray mantel. A cold wind swept through as Alfred stepped out of his car, cutting straight through his thick jacket. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, curled his shoulders forward against it, and began walking towards the sidewalk.

The snowflakes were falling as far south as Tennessee and moving across his land. If he closed his eyes he could feel the flakes melting on his skin and the ice nipping his fingers and face. It had already been snowing for a few months in Alaska, adding an extra chill to his nights, even when it had been seventy degrees as far north as New York.

Francis thought it was strange when he wore black leather gloves tugged over his hands during the meetings in early fall and obsessed over hot drinks as early as labor day, breathing in the hot steam like it could unthaw the icy pit forming in his core. He thought Matt understood, since his brother's borders reached quite a ways above his own, but he wasn't ever sure. Maybe it was different for him, not having one toe in the arctic and the other in the tropics.

Alfred could already feel it in his bones. This winter was going to be a cold one. A hard one.

Of course, winter had always been difficult.

The night practically engulfed him it seemed, for months at a time, and he'd never been able to revel in the cold the way his brother could.

His earliest winter memories were harsh and stinging, at least after losing track of Matt. It wasn't so bad, when they had each other. But somewhere along the way they'd been separated.

It had been terrifying, as if a part of him was suddenly missing, but he'd managed.

Then winter had come.

He'd learned early on. Winter meant cold, and hunger, and loneliness he just couldn't get rid of.

Humans were even more distrustful of the little boy who wouldn't age when the dark had closed in on them and death was in some cases just as far as the nearest freezing wind or too-thin sheet of ice.

He was lucky, the times he'd found a friendly animal to share a burrow with for a while, or a family who didn't mind a small precocious toddler showing up on their doorstep.

Christmas had been a blessing, the times he'd found a few settlers celebrating it. A better chance of a warm bed and a full stomach. He found people were more likely to take in the strange child on Christmas, if just for the day.

Christmas meant warmth, and light, and laughing. A blaze of hope in the middle of fear.

A car horn blared from down the street and startled him back into the present.

Of course, the problem was that Christmas wasn't always easy to find.

And sometimes it was even harder to accept.

"Alfred," Lisa Singleton, the director of the Clarksdale community center, greeted the regular volunteer as he walked into the kitchen carrying a mostly demolished tray of sweet potatoes. She was rubbing her lower back and glaring at a large can of gravy which was sitting on the table. "Could you put this back up there? It got left out and I'm just not feeling up to climbing up there again."

"Sure thing, Ms. Lisa" he said, setting the tray down and picking up the can, hoisting it up on his hip as he climbed the ladder in front of the tall shelves set up on one side of the room. "Actually kinda surprised this got left over. Last year we ran out, didn't we?"

"I think we just planned better this year. It certainly hasn't been any less busy," she replied with a tired smile. "Had a good turnout this year." A muscle twinged in her back, reminding her how long she'd been on her feet. "I'm about ready to go home though. My whole body's aching."

Alfred smiled from the top of the ladder, shoving the can of gravy back up on the shelf. "It's a good ache though, isn't it?"

She laughed. "That's one way of looking at it. I'm just happy someone else is covering dinner tonight at home."

"Your niece?" Alfred asked, studying the cans on the shelves and rearranging a few.

"Mm-hm," she hummed, already looking for another line of conversation.

"So where are you going after this, Alfred?" Ellen asked, grinning at him over the tray of leftover green beans she had just walked in with. "Family dinner?"

Alfred glanced down at the college student from his perch on top of the ladder, shoving a can of tomato sauce over to the right. "Hmm? Nah."

Mr. Bailey looked up from the pot he was washing over at the sink. "Thought you had brothers. And a roommate. Aren't doing anything with them?"

"They're all out of the country." Alfred stepped down off of the ladder and brushed the dust off on his pants. "Besides," he said, looking over with a sideways smile, "We're not really that sort of family. Ya know? Kind of all doing our own thing." He turned towards Lisa and, bouncing on the balls of his feet, asked "What you want me to do now? Any more heavy lifting for me?" He grinned, flexing a bicep.

She glanced at the long table in the middle of the room, filled with trays being brought in to be cleaned, and shook her head. "Just a lot of cleanup at this point I think. If you want to gather up some trash bags and take them out back that would be great."

"Sure thing," he said and gave a lazy salute.

Lisa smiled, watching as Alfred retreated from the kitchen. She waited another moment, to make sure he wouldn't unexpectedly pop back in the door, before picking up a paper plate off the table and giving Ellen a whack on the shoulder.

"Hey," Ellen said, in surprise. "What was that for?"

"Easy Liz," Mr. Bailey said, "She didn't know."

"So what's your excuse Harold?" she asked. The older man blushed to the top of his somewhat balding head.

"Technically I think you started it this time. But a lot of times that roommate of his is around, isn't he?" Mr. Bailey said, rinsing off the pot and setting it upside down on the metal counter. "I was hopeful's all. Thought maybe he just meant no family shindig. If I'd known I would've invited him home with me."

"Hmph," Lisa said, "Probably wouldn't take you up on it anyway. We'll be lucky if we can foist this off onto him." She was dumping a spoonful of potatoes onto a take home tray, and reaching for a small container of leftover turkey.

"I stuck my foot in it, didn't I?" Ellen asked.

Lisa looked at Ellen sympathetically. "Sorry hon," she said, while glancing around for the green beans, "It's just that we knew Alfred's answer before he even said it. He's been helping out here for ten years. Comes in early, stays all day, goes home late. He's always a hard worker, but Thanksgiving, Christmas, any family themed event, he just doesn't stop. Doesn't take long to figure things out." She shook her head. "Didn't even know he had family until a couple of years back."

"Oh," Ellen said, looking embarrassed. "Should I-"

Mr. Bailey shook his head. "Don't say a word. He'll probably come back in here acting as if nothing happened at all, so just let it drop."

Alfred hadn't even gotten out the door before a local kid, Levi Ramsey, had hitched himself to his side.

"Hey," Levi said, "I finally got old sourpuss Collins to break." He talked a mile a minute while Alfred pulled trash bags out of the cans and tied them. As Alfred walked back through the hallway that led to the dumpsters outside he was right on his heels.

"So then he just stopped talking, with this goofy look on his face and just turned around," said Levi, finishing up his story. "Didn't know what hit him."

Alfred laughed and stopped in front of the door to fix his hold on a bag. "Told you that one would get him."

"Yeah. It was great seeing him finally crack a smile. Dad said-"

"Levi?" They heard Mr. Ramsey's voice echoing through the hall. "Time to go." His figure appeared in the door, casting a shadow down towards them.

"Speak of the devil" Levi said. "See ya later." He waved goodbye to Alfred and ran back the way they'd came.

Alfred breathed in as their voices slowly disappeared, trying his best to ignore the slight ache he felt forming somewhere in his center. He turned back to the trash bags he'd set down and, pushing the double doors open, hauled them outside, shivering a little at the chill in the air.

It was dark, despite the security light overhead. He knew he should have been used to it by now. He'd been dealing with the seasonal changes his whole life, but he couldn't help but feel a little lost in it somehow. Even though it was only seven o'clock the lights around the community center seemed to barely penetrate the night. It seemed that, if he wasn't careful, it would take him, engulfing him and never letting go. A tiredness he hadn't expected seemed to drag at him.

He winced. It wasn't even December yet.

Alfred closed his eyes and breathed out, willing all the sudden exhaustion to just leave, then smiled and threw the trash bags into the dumpster.

He could pretend it worked at least.

Walking back through the main building to the dining room he noticed the building had cleared out considerably. A few volunteers stood around the door, chatting and putting on coats. He greeted them with a smile and a wave as he passed by, taking just a minute to feel the pull of their happiness. He felt lighter, more able to breath, for a brief moment.

And then it was gone, the ache growing all the stronger in its absence.

"What now, Ms. Lisa?" He asked as he pushed the doors open to the kitchen.

"I think we should be good to go Alfred." Ms Lisa said, with a smile. "Cleanup's going pretty quick and I think we've got more than enough people still here to finish up."

"You sure?" Alfred asked, glancing around the room, looking for anything he might be able to help with.

"We got this." Mr. Bailey looked at him from over at the sink. He'd managed to demolish a bit of the pile, and several more people were lined up now, drying and putting away clean items.

Ms. Lisa nodded, and picked up a plastic shopping bag off of the counter. "And here. Take this with you."

"I'm not takin-"

"Shush," Ms. Lisa said, "That's enough out of you. You'll take this home or it will go to waste."

"I know better than that," he said, looking down at the bag.

"Stop being so difficult. We have plenty this year, and the delivery boxes are already taken care of. You've been here all day and I've barely seen you stop. And you're not going to have time to cook much of anything tonight unless it's been frozen beforehand." She raised her eyebrows as he started to speak, "Don't make that face at me Alfred, and don't even try to lie. I know you've got a drive ahead of you."

Alfred nodded his head. He'd moved out of his apartment close by several years prior, but he'd kept volunteering at this particular center because… well… it was nice, having a solid connection to people for a while. He hadn't been willing to give it back up so quickly. As a nation it was easy to keep that connection one-way. Knowing them, but not the other way around. Getting too close wasn't good either. He'd found that out the hard way too many times, but… he looked down at the take home tray in his hands.

"Thanks Ms. Lisa," he said, leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

She smiled. "Go on now. It's starting to come down again. Don't need you getting stuck in the snow."

"I've driven in a lot worse than this."

She nodded. "Still no sense in risking your neck if you don't have to." She reached up and gave him a hug. "Happy Thanksgiving dear."

By the time Alfred got back to his small house in Virginia the wind had picked up and there was a layer of snow on the grass. He let his coat fall heavily onto the floor in the foyer, and spared just a bit of energy to flip the tv on as he passed through the living room, pulling up the Macy's parade from the dvr.

The sound of Broadway numbers and gleeful hosts filled the house as he walked through the kitchen, prepared a plate from the food Ms. Lisa had prepared for him, and stuck it in the microwave. His shoulders were aching, more so than he would have expected. He stretched, feeling his muscles pull and his joints pop, and leaned over the counter, rubbing the back of his neck. He stood there, leaned over; his head resting on his arms for a few moments, even after the microwave had gone off. He breathed in deeply then pushed himself back up, shoving a few stray hairs away from his face.

It was too early for this to be an issue.

But he felt so tired, despite so many of his people already starting black Friday. He made a face, wishing at least that they'd wait a few more hours at least, the restlessness at the back of his mind a sharp contrast to the need to just sleep.

He felt a tiny amount of curiosity about the sales papers on the kitchen table as he passed by, but ignored it, plopping himself on the couch tiredly. Bright balloons filled the screen as he ate, mindlessly. He could feel a million lights coming on across the country, soft twinkling things unwound and strung up on mostly artificial tree branches. Glitter rained down onto hands and carpets, sticking on the sides of noses and making magical creatures out of children. Snow globes were lifted out of boxes, chiming notes ringing out through rooms, mixing with laughter and the sound of Christmas music.

If Tony had been there, instead of on some trip to who knows where, he would have already lugged his own boxes of decorations up from the basement but…

His eyes drooped sleepily and he pushed away the sugar and sparkle visions. The warmth and laughter that, for some reason that evening did nothing but hurt.

He'd do it tomorrow, he told himself.

Well... this wasn't the fic at the top of my re-write list. But it kind of snuck into my head the day after Halloween. I've been binging on Christmas music since then -_-'. This one lengthened quite a bit compared to the original, with some definite thematic changes. For those of you who liked In the Still and Quiet... well, here's some more Angsty, depressed Alfred for you. I thought that, in a lot of ways, SAD (seaonal Affective Disorder) seems to fit Alfred's winter habits pretty well.

Thanks for reading guys. Let me know what you think. ^_^