Chemistry Lab, Derleth Hall, Miskatonic University, Arkham MA. 1975.

When they left Christmas Past, Peter thought he was seeing double. Two Joneses, two Dianas.

Two Mozzies? Peter groaned. El squeezed his hand and gave him a sympathetic look.

They were all standing in a chemistry lab with 1970s era equipment. Peter made a mental note to tell Diana her descriptions were excellent. This place looked exactly like the lab she'd described in her Arkham Files stories.

Their guide to Christmas Past, a younger version of the Neal they knew, handed the Arkham Mozzie a sheet of paper. "We went where and when you expected. No glitches, but they have questions." Neal crossed his arms. "I do, too."

Arkham Mozzie, in his garish attire, nodded approvingly. "An inquiring mind is a good sign. It will certainly aid in your career." He placed the sheet of paper in a folder and then peered through a microscope.

"I want answers," Arkham Neal insisted. "From you."

"And we want them now," Peter added. "What's with this Dickensian approach of yours? Why send us to see a near-perfect match to one of my childhood Christmases?"

Ignoring their questions, New York Mozzie said, "The others were supposed to be here by now. We had a very precise schedule." He sounded worried.

Peter's stomach clenched. "Are Henry and Neal — my Neal — in danger?"

Arkham Mozzie looked up and finally acknowledged Peter. "In danger of upsetting a plan that has been months in the making. They had more stops, but they weren't supposed to linger. I shall instruct the next set of guides to..." he trailed off as a bright flash of light appeared.

This time the scene didn't change, from Peter's perspective, but he found himself gawking at NYC Neal, his cousin Henry, with an Arkham version of El and himself. He'd been too concerned for Neal and curious about Mozzie's plan to consider that he might meet himself. He took a step forward and then paused, unsure what he should say to a parallel self who'd become a professor of archaeology.

Arkham Peter had done the same, and now they stared at each other. Arkham Elizabeth waved, and El waved back. They led their husbands forward, but barely had time to shake hands before NYC Mozzie bustled in. "You're late," he told the new arrivals. "What happened?"

Arkham El said, "They interacted with themselves in the alternate universes, and that added time to each visit."

"You can do that?" Peter asked.

Arkham Peter nodded. "If you touch someone in the alternate universe, they can perceive you but will later remember the encounter as something ephemeral, like a daydream."

"But we don't have to touch you to interact now," El said.

"Different types of universes plus different types of connections between them, means different restrictions," Arkham Mozzie said. "There isn't time to explain. What they've done drains my resources. I'll need to adjust the plan for the Christmas Present phase." He scurried back to a table where he scribbled notes.

Peter turned to his counterpart and said, "I don't believe you agreed to hopping around between universes without knowing the goal of all this. Let's hear it."

Arkham Peter chuckled and it sounded odd, the way hearing a recording of yourself seemed weird. "Universe-hopping has become increasingly common around here, due to the interest that creatures and people of other worlds have in Neal. This sounded like a trip to an amusement park in comparison."

"And I wanted a chance to experience what it's like," Arkham El added.

El nodded, so it seemed that in both universes Elizabeth wasn't satisfied with simply hearing about her husband's adventures. She wanted to be hands-on sometimes. "Why does Mozzie want us to witness this version of ourselves?" she asked.

Arkham Peter said, "He says they're an extremely similar version of you who took a different direction two years earlier in your timeline, and he thought you needed to see the results of that." He shrugged. "Dante — our Mozzie — had a theory that he could send others to a time and place of his choosing, and I think he's been yearning for a chance to prove it."

Arkham Elizabeth added, "Your version of Mozzie seemed obsessed with following a specific what-if scenario. He was surprised at the results, and he felt he had a duty to show you. He hasn't told us what his findings were, only that they were significant." She paused. "And like our Mozzie, it seems yours also wants to show off."

"He's like Doc Brown," Henry said. He and both Neals had gathered around. "Remember Back to the Future II? Well, I know the Arkham people won't, because the movies were from the 1980s," he explained in an aside to them. "But in the second movie Doc returns from a visit to the future and decides Marty needs to see what's happening there and fix it. That's my theory of what Mozzie is up to."

"Are we supposed to fix the alternate world's future," Neal asked, "or simply avoid that future ourselves?"

Arkham Neal shook his head. "Our Mozzie hasn't told us, but he was convinced that we should participate."

"What's up with Jones?" NYC Neal asked. The Dianas, Joneses, and Mozzies were conferring on the other side of the lab. Both of the Jones seemed almost transparent.

"Do you think it's because he didn't drink the wine?" El asked, but Peter didn't have time to answer. The Mozzies rushed over to initiate Phase Two: Christmas Present.

Peter tried to protest that he wanted more answers. One of the Mozzies muttered assurances that everyone would gather back in the lab again on their way to Christmas Future.

###

Mozzie had pushed Neal and Henry in the direction of Diana Briscoe, an Arkham police detective. Neal glanced from her to the Agent Diana Berrigan he knew and raised a brow.

"Not a word," warned NYC Diana.

"C'mon," he insisted. "You know I've wanted to see what you looked like with an Afro ever since you wrote that your Arkham self styles her hair that way."

"Something wrong with an Afro?" asked the 1970s Arkham version of Diana.

"No, it looks great," Neal assured her, and not just because she was equally as intimidating as her 2005 self.

The Arkham version of Mozzie handed the Arkham Diana a sheet of paper. "It's a shorter list. We're going to be depleted sooner than I thought, so you'll make only one stop in Christmas Present."

"Hawaii, here we come!" said Henry. "Mom's wedding, and my stellar performance as a rock star. Christmas 2004 was awesome."

"You weren't the only rock star," Neal reminded him. He was looking forward to revisiting those memories, too. Singing on the beach had been one of many great moments last year.

"That's Christmas Past," said an impatient Arkham Diana. "You're from December 2005. That's your Christmas Present."

"No, that's our future," Henry said.

"Less than two weeks away versus fifty weeks in the past. Obviously we're going to Christmas 2005."

Mozzie nodded and gave her a push. "Hurry!"

She grabbed Neal's hand and he took Henry's. Then a bright flash of light blinded them again.

"If we see what we're getting for presents, we'll have to act surprised when we open them for real in..." Neal trailed off as it became apparent they weren't where he'd expected. They were standing outside a prison cell. A dark-haired figure in an orange jumpsuit sat at a narrow metal desk. "It can't be."

"It's you," said Henry. "Did we hit the wrong year? Is this when you were arrested in Vegas?"

"No," Neal said, feeling dazed. "That was just a holding cell. I wasn't... I never had the prison uniform. This is wrong."

Arkham Diana laid a hand on his back and said, "Slow, steady breaths."

"Did you know?" Henry asked accusingly. "You couldn't have warned us this universe's Neal spends Christmas in prison?"

"Mozzie didn't want anyone else to know. He didn't even tell the Gilmans, because he thought they would be too upset. He chose me to guide you here because he thought a cop would be the most comfortable with this setting."

Guards walked down the corridor, stepping around the three of them. "I thought they couldn't see us," Neal said, avoiding looking at himself in the cell.

"Not consciously," Diana said.

The Neal in the cell had been drawing, but now he pushed the paper away impatiently. He stood and ran his hands through his hair as he paced the small space. Henry reached through the bars and grabbed Neal's arm. The prisoner stared at him in shock. "Henry! You... Are you a ghost?"

Henry squeezed his arm. "Do I feel like a ghost?"

"No, but... What are you doing here?" Neal glanced down the corridor, clearly expecting a guard to start yelling, but those guards were frozen in place. "I haven't seen you in two years. You went back to Baltimore and had something going on you wouldn't talk about. I was gonna have Mozzie look into whether your dad had coerced you into working for Win-Win, but then I heard the reports of the boating accident. They never found your body, but you were presumed dead. Did you fake your death?" He shook his head. "I wish I'd known. I have some experience with that. I could've helped."

"Enough about me," Henry insisted. "What happened to you? Why didn't you take Peter's deal?"

"Peter... You mean Agent Burke?" Neal asked. "He didn't offer any deal. The prosecutor said she'd guarantee a short sentence if I pled guilty, but I decided to take my chances with a jury. They found me guilty of the bond forgeries, but the FBI couldn't prove anything else. It's a four-year sentence, due to end in 2009."

"What about St. Louis?" Henry asked. "In December 2003, you went there in Mozzie's place for a museum heist and ran into Peter Burke. At least, you were supposed to."

"That job was canceled when the client was arrested. Mozz called me about an hour after my flight landed. Anyway, Burke wouldn't have been there. He's based in New York."

The Neal standing in the corridor was frozen in shock. Peter in this universe hadn't been sent to St. Louis to impersonate the client he resembled. He hadn't been there to be impressed with Neal's skills, so Peter hadn't offered immunity and a job in return for a confession.

Neal stared at this version of himself in a prison uniform. They were the same age, but his imprisoned self was a little paler and thinner. There were no windows, and he couldn't tell the time of day. The only clue that it was Christmas was a card sitting on the desk. The picture on the front was Raphael's Sistine Madonna. "It's from Kate," he said hoarsely. "The card."

Henry glanced at the table and asked the prisoner, "Who's the card from?"

"Kate," said the prisoner, sounding a little desperate. "She's my only visitor. Mozzie won't come near a prison. Same for my former colleagues, and you... Well, I'm still not clear whether you're alive or a vivid dream."

"But..." Henry glanced back at Neal. "Our family..."

He turned his attention back to the cell when the prisoner said, "Only your dad knows who I am, and he wouldn't tell anyone else. He's not going to admit to a jailbird in the family."

Out in the corridor Neal shook his head as he tried to clear his thoughts. Two years ago he hadn't yet connected with his extended Caffrey family and it had taken a considerable effort on Henry's part to convince him that he should meet them. Now he couldn't imagine not having them in his life. And not having Peter and El as friends, that was unthinkable.

The loneliness of the prisoner was palpable.

This might have been me, he thought.

"Deep breaths," Diana said again. Then to Henry she added, "Wrap it up. We don't have much time."

The look he gave in their direction was a little wild-eyed, but he kept it together enough to tell the prisoner, "Stay in touch with Peter Burke if you can. He's a good guy."

The prisoner shrugged. "I sent him a Christmas card. Tweaking his tail is kinda my only hobby now, except when I can get art supplies."

Diana grabbed Henry's nearest hand and Neal's and pulled them away.

"No, wait!" Henry protested. As he broke contact, the prisoner looked confused.

"What happens to him?" Neal asked.

"That's what Christmas Future will reveal," Diana promised. "Mozzie hasn't told me."

The visit itself would have been disturbing enough, but there was something else bothering Neal. "I remember this," he told Henry. "When I told you I had strange memories and dreams recently, being in prison was part of it."

"Time travel makes you remember the future?" Diana suggested.

"Mozzie has a lot to answer for," Henry said. "Why send us here if we don't have the time and resources to do anything to help?"