(Untitled)

[cheerychaplain]

Father Mulcahy asks the bar for the day's (as in early December 1951) New York Times. He receives the newspaper, and a note comes with it.

His eyebrows furrow as he reads. "December 21st? Really?" His next request is for a large sheet of paper and a marker, and he busily sets to work.

The final result is a new notice on the board, beside an old

Comments

[theunsmiling]

"Father?"

There's a skinny girl standing nearby, with a short cap of wild, damp hair and brilliant green eyes.

"Do you need help?"

She flicks her fingers toward the garland-makings, the gesture precise and careful.

[cheerychaplain]

The humming ("O Come, All Ye Faithful") cuts off abruptly; Father Mulcahy glances up, and he smiles.

"Certainly! An extra pair of hands would always be appreciated. Please," he gestures to an empty chair, "have a seat."

[theunsmiling]

"There's a lot to be said for the willing, I'm sure."

She doesn't smile, though the stern set to her too-pointed face does soften fractionally. For a moment.

Then she turns the chair around so she can lean forward against the back of it, and reaches for a bowl and some thread.

"I've been far busier doing even stranger things, so."

The look she casts Mulcahy is solemn and sidelong.

"I'm Michael."

[cheerychaplain]

The look that she receives in return is not any less cheerful. "Father Mulcahy," he says (and maybe he blinks once at the name, but it isn't that peculiar; he does, after all, work with a doctor named Hawkeye). "It's a pleasure, Michael. Thank you very much for your help."

[theunsmiling]

"It's what I'm here for," she says, sober and certain.

Her fingers are quick and sure as she threads pieces of popcorn onto the thread.

"Or so I'd like to think. I'm going to go out on a limb and assume this isn't your first time here?" She sounds more relaxed now, almost light.

It's a deliberate choice.

[cheerychaplain]

"That would be a highly accurate limb," he says, smiling at his own little pun (and at her, but that goes without saying). "I've been coming here for -- oh, quite some time now. Several months. Of course, here, they've been through three Christmases, so who knows?"

Beat.

"I take it it's yours? Your first time here, I mean."

[theunsmiling]

"It is. I really wasn't expecting it. Though it was nice to get in out of the rain."

She doesn't laugh, just gives Mulcahy another long sideways look.

"So time is always different here? From when you are at home, I mean. I didn't think to check."

She hesitates.

"Can you check?"

[cheerychaplain]

"For myself, yes, it does," he verifies. "The best way to check would be to leave and ask the bar for the date when you come back, I suppose." He gestures at the half-completed popcorn chain. "It's December twenty-first here now."

[theunsmiling]

"I had a feeling it was near Christmas. At home it's--well, it's not that much after Halloween."

She huffs out a quick breath, just this side of a snort.

"I may need to invest in a calendar. Especially if I keep coming back here."

[cheerychaplain]

"It can get terribly confusing," Mulcahy confides, carefully stringing another piece of popcorn. "I'd given up on trying to keep track; the only reason I knew the date here today was that the Bar was kind enough to inform me, so that I could organize Christmas services."

[theunsmiling]

This gains Michael's attention, and her hands still in their work. For a moment.

"Are there so many Christians here? I'd heard there were other gods that visited. It seems--odd."

[cheerychaplain]

"I'm -- still not entirely sure how to justify it to myself," he says, and there is a hint of a frown. "But, yes, 'odd' is an excellent way to put it, and yes, I've met quite a few Christians. I wouldn't go so far as to call it a full house when I've held Christmas Mass the last two years, but a number of people came."

[theunsmiling]

"If I'm here on Christmas, you'll have at least one more."

She goes back to stringing popcorn.

"And--well. All stories are true somewhere, so I suppose it's not much of a stretch to imagine that all stories are true here, too. If you think about it."

[cheerychaplain]

He smiles. "Wonderful.

"And something like that is most likely true. I've seen enough inexplicable things in my time here that I don't usually try to make them make sense anymore; I suppose I just have to trust that it's all part of His plan."

Mulcahy doesn't sound particularly put out by this.

[theunsmiling]

"I've found that most things tend to be, difficult as it may be to see that at the time."

She huffs out another breath.

"Try telling some people that, though."

[cheerychaplain]

"I've found that it doesn't often pay to tell people that, if they don't already believe it," he says, equal parts gentle and wry. "It's a belief that they seem to have to reach on their own."