AN: Okay cool cats. (Heh, cool cats.) :P I've returned to deliver this little piece here. It's for Seducing Reason's Christmas Time Challenge and I do hope it pleases.

The rules are:

MUST INCLUDE the following:

1. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I don't care how you see it, but it's got to be there.

2. No humor. This one is a serious story, I'll post a humor challenge later if you want.

3. Original Characters are alright this time, but there's a twist to my kindness: They can't have powers, or they can't be female. Your choice. You can't have both, just one or the other.

4. There must be snow. Furious or soft, a raging storm or a blanket of bliss, there should be snow.

5. There must be one death. No exceptions. Canon characters or original characters, I don't care. There must be one death. It can even be your main character.

6. There cannot be an everybody-wins happily ever-after. You can have a happy-ending, but it has to come at a price. A depressing ending is highly appreciated. As I said, this is not going to be a funny story.

7. Spelling and Grammar are a must. One or two mistakes is forgivable, but don't push it. I wouldn't care how good the story was if I couldn't read it.

8. You must include the line "Wouldn't Christmas be nice again?" in your story.

9. Make this a one-shot, you only have until December 30th. No exceptions.

As per the usual, I've tried to adhere to them as best as possible. Now for the disclaimers. I really don't own anyone except Glacé, our token villain, but as I thought her up on a whim for this piece, she's fair game to anyone, really. And I also own the as-yet-unnamed narrator of this story.

For a side note, this is a companion piece to my previously posted "Eyes." It can be read as a stand-alone, but I wrote it with the idea that the two would go together. It can be categorized as romance, but I choose not to. It's not the point. Is there really a point:shrugs: I don't know.

That said, enjoy.

The last of the snow kisses my eyelashes as the clouds part overhead and I blink. I can see the stars. I smile and sigh; they're so beautiful as I lie on my back in the snow. The park is quiet, nearly everyone home for Christmas dinner; but here we are. Last year, it snowed all day. Appropriate, I suppose, after what happened.

I still remember, his last day of work.

He told me we wouldn't make it and tried to leave it at that. I followed him; out through the street to that bike of his and watched him speed away. Sank into the slush on the pavement and cried my eyes out. I was young. I was in love. I spent Christmas morning with hot chocolate in one hand and the telephone in the other. Not calling, not thinking, just being.

What did we come here for? Were we making snow angels? I can see him; he's standing over a gently smoking pile; must be from the annual bonfire this afternoon. I wonder if he's warming his hands. No, that can't be right. He's always warm. That's one of the reasons I love him.

Why is he standing all the way over there?

But he's here now, wrapping his arms around me. He's smiling at me now, speaking to me as the breeze blows strands of dark hair around a scratch near his eyebrow, into his eyes. There are tears there, but I don't know why. I can't hear what he's saying, there's a roaring in my ears. He looks so sad.

How did we end up here, like this? I can't remember. Does it really matter? His embrace is comfortable, familiar, as if we hadn't spent the last year apart. As if we'd never lost each other. And I stop wondering why he left, just thankful I have him back.

I was working the day he cleaned out his locker. Nothing much, just a change of clothes, some just-in-case gas money. He ignored me on his way in. He slipped out when I left the doorway to drop a check. I cried that night. Wondered what I'd done, if I would really never understand, what he was hiding that was so big, I couldn't fit in along with it.

And, lying in the snow, "I'm cold."

His arms wrap around me tighter and his mouth is still moving but I still can't hear what he's saying. Those tears are falling down his cheeks, off his chin, dripping on my nose. He's so very warm, but I can't feel it. Can't feel my fingers. I don't understand. Why is he so sad? I shiver.

There. A burst of heat, I can feel it in my arms, pulsing around me, through me. He's radiating heat, almost…glowing. Is it just my eyes? The pit of my stomach still feels like ice. I don't know what's going on. It's beginning to snow again.

What are we doing here in the park?

I turn my head slightly to the side, I'm feeling tired. Then, I see it. That's not a bonfire.

It's a body.

It was cold. But I'd worn my favorite suede trench coat over that puffy snow jacket for fashion's sake. Besides, it wasn't snowing yet. I just had a few things left to pick up since Nancy insistedI bring dessert to her Christmas party and, silly me, I'd used up all the sugar. I didn't mind; it was only a few blocks to the nearest Safeway anyway.

Cutting through the park, I wrapped my coat tighter and shivered a little. It was getting dark and just a little nippy. I hoped I'd read the sign right and the store was open until six on Christmas Eve. Lost in though, I was startled to hear voices.

Curious, I strayed a little from the park trail, over to the maple grove, now barren of its bright foliage. My breath caught, frozen; Glacé, Maxville's latest cookie-cutter winter villain, and Huo Long, one of our newer heroes, had cleared the small space of snow, leaving only a smoldering circle of charred earth between them.

Both pairs of eyes fixed on me and I immediately regretted not going straight to the store. Glacé, her eyes glittering like black ice, aimed a smile of equally glittering white teeth in my direction. Huo Long called my name, I think, before I was knocked out of the glade, into a nearby snow bank. Fighting for breath, I struggled to my feet, Huo Long racing toward me, Glacé swiftly following.

A bolt of ice shot between us, slicing his mask as he turned sharply.

"Get down!"

Frozen, my body wouldn't comply and he kicked my legs from underneath me. I went down for the second time, gasping. They circled each other, Glacé's glittering eyes resting on me every few seconds. I felt the panic, but I couldn't move. I could hardly breathe.

There was a flash. Fire and ice, and steam. I couldn't see. Then there were hands around my neck.

I choked as the cold spread from my throat, down my chest. I couldn't feel my fingers. Fighting for breath, I felt tears spilling from my eyes, burning my freezing skin. A strangled noise escaped my mouth. And, through the smoke, there he stood.

Huo Long, the wind rippling the silk across his body, his hair across the planes of his face. The ripped mask hung over his nose by a thread, shreds of it fanning out, mingling with his hair. He stood tall, dark, imposing. For a moment, I was almost sure everything would be all right. Even his voice was comforting.

"Put her down." Flames erupted from his fingertips as I felt the frost creeping up my neck.

"But she's such a pretty little plaything," was the tinkling reply. My captor giggled. "Besides, what's one little girl?"

"Put her down," he repeated, voice steely.

Glacé giggled again before pursing her lips into a thin, cruel line. "Very well, catch her then!"

I found myself flying through the air and landed in a pair of arms. "Oof!" one of us exclaimed as we both went down. Something ripped and I looked into those eyes.

I knew those eyes.

"Wa-"

He stood quickly, mask fluttering to the snow beside me, as he hurled fireball after fireball at the villainess. But something was wrong with me. Why was I still so cold? The feeling had settled somewhere in my stomach and it was getting hard to focus.

There was shouting and more steam. I lost track of time. It started to snow.

I blinked.

"Warren." It's a statement, not a question. I feel the silk of his costume against my skin as he rubs his hands up and down my arms, my trench coat a sad heap beside us. I still don't know what's going on. But I've finally figured out what he's saying to me.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," his lips tell me. His eyes, his tears. Scalding hot as he frantically tries to warm me up.

I'm still, "so c-cold…"

He's glowing again and, this time, I realize it's the fire in his hands. Somehow I'm not surprised anymore. But I can't feel it. Is this what I think it is? Is this what it feels like to die?

The roaring in my ears stops as he pulls me close and I hear the traffic on the nearby street. "I'm so, so sorry."

I'm sorry too. Sorry I won't be able to make it to Nancy's party. Sorry I'll never graduate from college. Sorry we'll never road trip across the country in my uncle's pick-up. But most of all, I'm sorry I missed so much of you. Sorry I didn't fight harder for you because, is this all the time we have left? And I missed it.

I'm sorry I didn't run faster, hold tighter, love harder last Christmas Eve.

Are there tears in my eyes too, now?

And his lips over mine, searing hot. Spreading through me, I close my eyes and savor the taste of cinnamon and cloves and breathe in the scent of smoked cedar. And, finally, I'm warm again. I smile against his lips, feeling his arms tight around me, holding me.

I look into his eyes again, still filled with tears. I'm so very sleepy. I sigh as those tears begin to spill.

"Wouldn't Christmas be nice again, if…"

Warren cried silently, his tears crystallizing on her face, white as the snow around them. A half-smile graced her delicate face, a heavy contrast to the cold radiating from her body. Her chest had ceased its sporadic rise and fall, a last wisp of steam escaping her chilled lips. Her glazed eyes gazing softly up at him.

And now all she is, all she'll ever be, is a pair of lifeless silver eyes.