It was Christmas Eve and Nora had escaped the glittery fingertips of her aunt, uncle and cousins' card making to visit her father as the snow fell.

Back at home, the tree was up, large and bright, with every branch decorated in sight, with ball balls and angels and snowman and all, cookies and milk for Santa's late call. The presents are wrapped and under the tree, her cousins guessing what each one could be. Her aunt and uncle each with a sweater, that just about matched the conventional weather. And here Nora is, walking along, singing about her day, like it's a song.

A hat on her head and boots on her feet, her fathers absence she dreads, she sighs in defeat.

Little donkey, little donkey, just keeps plodding along, thanks to Celles singing, she can't get rid of the song.

She treads over snow, to the graveyard she goes, to make a Christmassy wish to a man that she miss and off she goes it alone.

Harvey in mind, snowflakes chilling her spine, she still wishes for him to show. For their occasions intwine, as they have a good time, and Nora is going to stop singing now...

Nora walks down the familiar roads towards the graveyard. The sky is not dark, but the clouds make it gloomy. There isn't a patch of blue in sight. Twinkling lights of red and green hang from the lampposts above her head and houses and front lawns are covered with lights and snowmen. Christmas carols are heard from houses away and as a car drives past and disappears around the corner, so does Jingle Bell Rock from it's stereo.

Nora digs her gloved hands further into her coat pockets as she crosses the road at the same time a mother does so, a child holding her hand singing, "He's making a list, checking it twice, gonna find out if your naughty or nice, Santa Claus is coming to town."

Nora smiles to herself, a small, soft and gentle smile and keeps on track towards her destination.

When she arrives, the gravelly path that she knows so well is hidden beneath layers of snow and ice. She follows it nonetheless towards Adams grave. When she reaches it, she pulls out the flowers that she had tucked under her arm and sets them safely by his headstone where they are soon to be buried by the snowflakes that will fall all throughout the night. She sighs quietly and contently. "Merry Christmas Dad." she whispers.

"I knew I would find you here."

"I knew you'd find me."

"What are the odds I'd get the right timing though, ey?!" Nora turns her head to see Harvey approaching her, a Christmas hat on his head, his nose and cheeks pink, poked and prodded by the frost. "How are you?" He asks.

"I'm well, yourself?"

"I'm good."

"Your fathe-"

"Fathers still fine and uncle still undeniably and irrevocably insane, yes." He grins, his dimples on full display.

"What are you doing here Hatter?" Nora asks, shaking her head.

"I'm here to wish the blue Fairy a very Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Harvey."

"Hmm.." He mocks, "So it goes."

Nora shakes her head. That's her line.

Blithering idiot, she thinks.