Note: Here's the second part! :)

PART II

One year later...

"Do you want tea?"

"Pardon?"

"A cup of tea. Would you like one?"

"No, thank you. I've already had my caffeine quota for the day."

Flora shook her head. As far as she was concerned, there was no such thing as too much tea. "Okay," she called downstairs. "I'll just make one for myself then." She made her way to the kitchen. It had been a desolate area until she moved in two months ago. Now the gleaming pots and pans weren't just for show; they were regularly used. The counters and cupboards were packed with herbs and sacks of rice. Sat on one of the shelves was an unused jar of exotic spices.

It wasn't just the kitchen. Her clutter filled the whole house. It had been transformed from clinical to homely. How much of this Daryl appreciated she couldn't say. He was a man of few words. The Christmas tree, glowing merrily in a corner of the lounge, was all her idea. Among the traditional baubles and lights, was a paper chain she'd crafted out of leftover graph paper.

Living with a scientist was madness, but it sure beat a tent.

Once the kettle had boiled, she took her mug of tea down to lab. Daryl was sat at his desk furiously scribbling. His black hair was stuck up at all angles; he had a habit of running hands through it when he was frustrated with an experiment.

Flora peered over his shoulder. "No luck, huh?"

He sighed and sat back in his chair. "No, I'm afraid not."

She took a seat beside him. They were quietly companionable. She sipped her tea, while Daryl frowned over his equations. "Shall we go to the Blue Bar later? I think they're having a Christmas Eve party." She expected a 'no'. Sweet and apologetic, but a 'no' nonetheless. Though they understood each other perfectly, Daryl was still hardly a social butterfly.

"Uh, okay, yes."

Flora spluttered. "Yes?"

"Yes, yes." He laughed. "In any case, I'm not making any progress with this."

"And in any case," she said, leaning over to kiss him, "it's Christmas Eve and you should be with your girlfriend."

"That too," he agreed.

"Hurry up, Rock. We'll be late."

"Mom, no one at the bar cares. Just give me a second." He tore around his room, frantically trying to find something good to wear. It was as if his mother had been sneaking into his room in the night and replacing all the clothes in his wardrobe with mad Christmas sweaters. Eventually, he settled on a navy one stitched with a snowflake pattern.

He hoped Muffy would find it cute rather than sickening.

Rock met his parents in the foyer and together they headed into the winter night. It was not yet snowing. The air was crisp, clear and bitter cold as they made the short journey to the bar. Rock's fingers tingled and shook; he rubbed his hands together, wishing it was only the cold and not nerves that were affecting him.

Nami always used to tease him over his feelings for Muffy, egging him on to do something about it and, even though she was no longer here, he was beginning to believe she was right. If anything, Nami moving away the previous year had reinforced her point – there was no sense hesitating. You never knew when your last chance with a person had passed until it was too late.

The Blue Bar was bustling when they walked inside. Griffin greeted them from the doorway. "Happy Christmas, folks."

Behind the counter stood Muffy. Her blonde hair was tightly curled and tied with a shiny red ribbon. She was wearing a Christmas sweater too, but her's was actually pretty – cream coloured and fluffy. "I'll get the drinks," Rock said, pushing towards the bar.

Muffy beamed at him. "Hey. What'll it be? Griffin's made some mulled win specially..."

"Yeah, sure." He was hardly listening, but he gratefully gulped the wine as soon as she'd poured it. Muffy's green eyes went wide. "My mouth's dry," he croaked, inwardly cringing at how awkward he had become in the last five seconds. This was not how he'd planned it.

Muffy laughed. "I like your jumper," she said, moving along the bar to serve Gustafa.

"I like yours too," Rock yelled after her. "Looks soft and it – it reminds me of a cat."

What was he saying?

Thankfully Muffy wasn't offended. She paused, bemused, then burst out laughing. "I do love you, Rock," she told him. "You're really one of kind, aren't you?"

"Certainly am." He scuttled back to the corner where his parents were sat. Everything was going hideously. Perhaps someone could lend him some mistletoe?

Jack was peeling a seemingly never ending mound of potatoes. After that, he had the carrots to tackle and after them the brussels sprouts. He spent all year growing vegetables only to spend all of Christmas Eve preparing them. But he didn't complain.

This year, after all, was slightly special. Dinner with Tak had gained an extra guest – two guests to be precise.

"Need any help?" Celia's pale face popped around the kitchen door. "I'm done napping and you know how I feel useless just hanging around."

Jack frowned. "You sure? I can probably manage."

She shook her head. "Don't be silly. I'm pregnant, not dying." Jack knew she was right, but he was scared for her. She was frail, as Marlin never tired of telling him. "You need to have faith in me," she reminded him, squeezing his hand.

"I know." And he did. In the end, it had been Celia who gave the Blue Feather to him, defying her family and marrying the poor farmer from Moon Farm. Vesta had eventually come around, particularly with the pregnancy and the promise of a new baby following soon after. Marlin, however, continued to resent Jack.

"You remember they've invited us for New Year's?" Celia said, as they chopped carrots. It was like she could read his mind.

Jack fought not to groan. "I remember. Marlin's okay with me coming, right?"

A mischievous smile played across Celia's face. "Of course he's not. But never mind. He will be one day."

Jack remembered the card she had sent him last Christmas – the card he still kept in his bedside drawer. Next year will be better, it said. She was right then and he believed that she would be right now.

The Blue Bar grew increasingly full and noisy as the hours passed by. Rumours about Jack and Celia's absence flew around the room. "Do you think she's ill?" "Pregnant, I heard!" "Oh leave them be! It is their first Christmas as married couple. Maybe they want to be alone."

Rock spent his time trying to find some mistletoe and continuing to drink the mulled wine he didn't even particularly like. So far all he had mustered was a sprig of holly Gustafa had attached to his hat.

Soon, to the surprise of everyone, Flora and Daryl walked in. Both were quiet, but smiling and red-faced from the cold. They joined Carter who was sat alone in a corner.

"Listen Muffy," Rock shouted, leaning on the bar with his elbows. He held out the holly he had borrowed from Gustafa. "I don't have any mistletoe, but – "

"Oh, that's okay," she giggled. "I have allergies."

"Now you tell me!"

"Pardon?" The music grew to a roar; she couldn't hear him.

"I said – "

But before he could get any further, Muffy gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Rock! Look!"

The door swung open and a bedraggled figure crossed the threshold. It had finally started to snow; vivid red hair was sprinkled liberally with snowflakes. The woman glanced up, scanning the gawping crowd. "Nami!" Rock shouted. "One second, Muffy." He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and bounded across the room to greet his best friend.

Nobody heard, over the music and laughter, the clock chiming midnight.

Christmas Day.

A/N: There you go! I hope that was okay – I know it was probably a bit cliché and slightly too fluffy. But hey, it is Christmas! Haha. Thanks for reading and Merry Christmas everyone!