"Here," Emerson sat down beside Damien on the floor, handing out a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

Damien's eyes slowly turned onto him and away from the glowing furnace he was sitting by. Emerson shuddered. He felt icy cold with those eyes staring at him even standing by a fire. Then followed that expected grin almost like a jack-o-lantern's, bright and wide.

He took the mug and put it to his lips, "Not poisoned?"

Emerson feigned a laugh and then handed out other mug to Petra, who was laying on the floor with a blanket tossed carelessly on op of her, staring at him mischievously. He was well aware that if he allowed his eyes to rest on her for too long he wouldn't be able to take them away so he set the clay mug on the stoney floor with a gravely clink.

"So tomorrow I will see them?" Emerson muttered more to himself than anyone else, referring to Jade and Drake of course.

"I hope so," Damien sighed, "think they can outwit me and get away?"

Emerson frowned. Was he joking? He couldn't be. "Our lives depend on it."

"Yes, they do," Damien agreed with him. The whites of his teeth were glistening in the moving firelight.

"Are you not worried then?" Emerson bit down a sarcastic laugh.

A smile twitched in the corners of Damien's lips, nothing slipped by him. Emerson knew that. "Honestly," Damien sighed, "of course, but for the time being, it seems things are out of my hands."

"Rather your mouth," Petra's sarcastic, voice chirped in.

It was true though. Damien was interesting. His power put him into a position in which he could always have what he desired with a word and yet the rare times that he absolutely couldn't have his way, he didn't shatter like Emerson thought he would. When someone disagreed with him on something of monumental importance, Damien could shrug it off without a twitch of unease. He hadn't always been that way. Emerson couldn't figure out what now deciphered whether Damien would use his power or not. Could there be no reasoning? Did Damien have no control over it himself?

"What?" Damien asked, suddenly, bringing Emerson's eyes back up to his.

"Nothing, my friend," Emerson smiled gently, upon which Damien rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Always calculating," he sighed.

"Yes, that was the agreement," Emerson's smile blossomed into a grin.

"You'll miss life living like that," Petra spoke smoothly, her eyelashes seeming to flutter at him. He knew that it was an illusion.

Tilting his head so that his eyes wouldn't linger on her, he replied, "No, because to me this is life."

"Whatever," she gave up the fight easily and scooted up closer to Damien, reaching up and taking his hand pulled his arm over her, laying her head in his lap. Emerson looked away. What on earth did she see in him? True, Emerson saw Damien as his closest friend, even family, but Damien would never care for Petra the way she did for him. So how could she possibly envision him that way?

A resounding knock from the front door echoed throughout the house. Emerson frowned, confused for a moment. It was past midnight. Who was out this late? Then it dawned on him. "It's Christmas Eve," he laughed to himself. Carolers were at the door. He'd completely forgotten.

Damien smiled as if it were a joke, while Petra shot up to stare at Emerson in abhorrence. "Is it really?" She gasped. "We should put up your tree and decorate it!"

Emerson rolled his eyes, "It's late, Petra."

"Darling, he's right," Damien spoke smoothly, looking up at her from the fire.

"This could very well be out last Christmas together," she argued, "who knows where we'll end up when time is restitched."

Emerson bit his lip as a twang of remorse and nostalgia rang in him. "Why not? Who needs sleep any ways?"

"I do," Damien snapped, falling onto the red carpeted floor with a soft thud, stretching both his arms and legs out, seeming to fall asleep then and there. Well, that was definitely true, Emerson thought to himself.

"Come on, he's not coming" Emerson nodded to Petra, darting his eyes away from the dreadful scars that were revealed, "the servants can help us."

Petra looked from Emerson's twisted face to the deep marks on the insides of Damien's arms as a chill came over her. She had seen those scars over a hundred times, but each time was no different from the first. It made her uneasy and filled her mind with memories from when he received a few of them. She looked away.

"Oh," Damien glared up at the two of them spitefully, "please, forgive me," as he tugged down his sleeves over he scared marks.

"You know," Emerson sighed as he kneeled down beside Damien, "healers can cure scars."

Damien laughed at him cruelly, "Yes, I am well aware, but trust me I have had the best of any healers and they didn't disappear. They're to deep. So that is that."

"The best," Emerson frowned with a solemn nod, understanding all of the implications from those words.

"Besides, I don't mind them half as much as everyone else seems to," he moaned, "I just don't want to think about it."

Emerson glanced at Petra. Damien was clearly exhausted. "You're smart Emerson," he began, "surely you've figured where they came from without ever being told?"

"Yes, Damien," he replied solemnly.

"Entertain me, then," he yawned, "what could I have done better as to not have ended up like this," he held up a bare scared arm to emphasize his point.

"Nothing Damien," Emerson shook his head.

Damien clenched his jaw at that and let his arm hit the floor with a thud as he turned his head back towards the fire to stare at it hard.

"No father should cut their children as punishment for something they can or especially cannot control," Emerson continued, but was soon interrupted by Damien's terrible laughter.

"Cut?" Damien laughed, "Oh that would have hurt far less and he probably would have run out of space more quickly. No, these are burns."

"How?" Emerson sputtered, "they're so-"

"Deep?" Damien looked up at him furiously, it was clear that he did not want to talk about this. "Yes, well, burn a patch of skin a few hundred times and here's the result. It was his power after all."

Emerson covered his mouth with his hand and turned away from Damien. He looked like he was about to vomit. Petra tried to hold Damien's raging eyes, but could only for a moment before she too had to look away. She slowly slid to the floor and sat down.

Damien laughed at the two of them once more, "Come on now, don't let me ruin your mood. Were you not about to go drag out some christmas tree or something?"

"No," Emerson muttered, softly, "I believe that I am too tired now."

"Hmm," Damien smiled.

"You know?" Emerson began frowning back at Damien.

"What?" He asked with wide eyes.

"You've changed a lot since I last saw you," the writer replied.

"Oh, and how's that?" Damien asked as if truly curious. Although he was enjoying watching Emerson put on masks.

"You've hardened," he spoke slowly, "your emotions don't come to you as easily as they once did and even then," he gave a small laugh, "they were pretty hard for you to reach, well the real ones any ways."

"So be it," Damien sighed as if it weren't his first time accepting this knowledge. Emerson was studying him still. After all of those years he still didn't understand him.

"What time does she come tomorrow?" Petra spoke bitterly, carving a smile into Damien's face.

"Around this time of night," Damien looked up at her with wide eyes, fully knowing her hatred for Jade.

A log in the furnace shifted, making a loud pop. Petra screamed and jumped up, looking around as if she'd seen a ghost, although she was the one who was as white as a sheet.

Damien sighed and sat up, quickly grabbing her hand, "It's just the fire, dear."

She jerked her hand away with a small laugh of contempt. "I know that Damien."