He looked up at his young charge, she was curled up in a man's woollen sweater, seated on the window seat and staring out at the snow.  Unshed tears in her eyes shone like the ice patterns in the window.  She wrapped her arms around herself, pulling the oversized sweater closer.

He looked over at the tree, the Canadian pine was festooned with ribbons, lights and decorations of all shapes and sizes yet it still remained understated in its reflectance of the season.  It was just the two of them this year, both alone in the world, both needing the other. He looked at the smattering of presents, there were only two.  One from her to him, the other from him to her.  A few cards (still in their envelopes) helped fill the space beneath the tree.

She had come to stay - her college dorms deserted for the holidays.  The first semester almost over, her grades reflected her intelligence despite the constant ache in her heart.  He could see the pain on her face, even when she smiled it never reached her eyes - they remained sad.  He hadn't seen the shine of a smile in those rich blue eyes for over 6 months - since that fateful night at the start of the summer that had left her almost completely alone.  Alone, except for him.  And
despite their close relationship he knew he was no substitute.

He finished his preparations for the Christmas day meal and poured two glasses of eggnog.  Heading over to where she was seated he handed one glass to her, and together they silently stared out the window at the whitened landscape.

The next morning he woke early as he always did.  Quickly showering and dressing he checked to see that she still slept.  He noticed she was still sleeping soundly, and he crept out the door and down the hallway. He reached the apartment two doors down and knocked quietly.  A small
child answered the door wearing a cowboy hat and a holstered gun.  He looked down, "Hi there cowboy.  Merry Christmas to you.  Can I see your Mum?"

The little boy grinned at his favourite neighbour before retreating inside the apartment again to get his mother. "K - I'll just get her," he said with his childish lisp.

The mother came to the door holding a picnic basket and a small bundle, "Here you go.  I hope she likes it.  Merry Christmas to you both."

He smiled indulgently at the bundle, "Thanks for looking after this for me.  Merry Christmas to you too."  He turned and headed back down the passageway towards his own home again.

He gently shook her, "Hey, sweetie... Wake up - it's Christmas morning."

Her eyes fluttered open and after she sat up she yawned and stretched, running a hand through her golden hair.  She blinked at him, still half asleep.  "Mornin' to you too."

He grinned, "Come on - time to open some presents."

She yawned again, "Ok, just let me use the bathroom first."

While she conducted her morning ablutions he turned on some quiet seasonal music and then sat in a chair near the tree smiling serenely (and grinning widely on the inside).  She slowly walked into the room, pausing and frowning as she noticed the picnic basket beneath the tree - it hadn't been there last time she had looked at the tree.

He noticed her pause, and commented, "Go on, open it.  It's for you."

She gave him a bemused look and headed for the tree.  She gently picked up the basket by the handle, as if sensing the contents were fragile.  After sitting in the matching chair to his she lifted one side of the lid.  Curled in the middle of the base of the basket, sleeping soundly, was a small kitten decorated with a colourful bow.

She smiled nervously, afraid to be happy at this gift and yet deeply touched.  She lifted the small bundle and cuddled it close.  It woke, squeaked at being removed from its warm sanctuary and then realising its new sanctuary was even warmer and alive, it snuggled down and began to purr.

Her smile widened and tears fell from her blue eyes, she looked up at him.  "It's beautiful.  Thank you."

He smiled in relief as he saw that despite the tears, her smile had reached her eyes.  "Merry Christmas Sweetie."  He cleared his throat as he felt the prick of tears in his own eyes, "Your other gift is his bowl and some food and stuff for him.  What are you going to name him?"

She held the little cat away from herself observing him carefully.  He blinked and yawned before squeaking a request to be returned to the warmth of her lap.  She put him down again, allowing him to curl up.  "I think I'll call him Chiops."