ANOTHER YEAR LATER

"Ow!" Anna winces as she gets up, rubbing her backside with a pout. 

"Hey," Jonathan is stood at the kitchen counter, arm deep in cookie batter. He shoots her a smile.

"You ever thought of maybe leaving cushions in your fireplace?"  Anna is still rubbing her butt, a woeful expression on her face.

"No, but I will now," Jonathan smirks. "Alternatively, you could just avoid falling down my chimney..."

"I hate you," she scowls, sitting up on the counter beside him. He raises his eyebrows.

"You sure about that?" he says lightly, grinning. "Because I seem to recall - "

"Oh my God, shut up," she cuts him off before he can finish, huffing. "You are insufferable."

"You love it."

"Jonathan, I'm not kidding, I will throw this flour at you," Anna's hand is already half way into the bag of powder.

"You wouldn't," he says, eyes narrowing, but with the way he's paling visibly, she isn't sure he believes it.

"Wouldn't I?" she smirks, but backs off, watching him work. "Great time to be making cookies," she comments with a raised eyebrow. 

"Yeah, I've kind of been up to my eyes in work, lately, so I was hoping I could at least get these in the oven before you showed up," he gives her an apologetic look, reaching up to wipe his cheek but ending up with flour on his face. "Looks like it didn't quite work out."

Anna smiles, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "Thank you," she says tenderly. "You didn't have to."

"Of course I did," he grins. "It's Christmas Eve."

She chuckles, and they lapse back into silence. Anna wonders briefly if she should inform Jonathan of the flour smeared across his cheek, but decides against it, concluding that it looks cute and...okay, her only reason is that it looks cute. Super cute.

"So, home for Christmas?" she asks eventually, once Jonathan is spooning out the batter into even blobs on the baking tray.

"Mhm," he hums in affirmation. "I was gonna stay and study, but Mom kinda forced me to come back. Said Flynn was missing me."

"You say that like Flynn isn't missing you," she observes, arching a brow.

"Well," Jonathan pauses, looking up at her. "Flynn is twelve now. I think if it was between who missed me most, Mom or Flynn, we all know who would win the prize."

"You can't fault your mother for missing you," she tells him sternly.

"I don't!" he holds his hands up in surrender, and flour goes everywhere. "I was just saying. Flynn's at that age, you know?"

"Can't say I do," Anna says with amusement.

"Oh, come on, even you went through it, I bet."

"Yeah, a few hundred years ago," she replies wryly.

"Irrelevant," he waves off. "Still counts."

"Okay," she says, trying to suppress her laughter. "What, then, is 'that age'?"

"That age is..." Jonathan begins, then trails off, frowning. "Well, it's, uh..."

"Yes?"

"It's just that age! I don't know how else you want me to explain it!"

"Okay, Jonathan," she says, and she thinks she would come off as complacent if there wasn't a smirk on her face. 

"I hate you," he mumbles, dusting off his hands and grabbing the tray, turning to place them in the oven.

"You sure about that?" her smirk widens as she repeats his words. "Because I seem to recall - "

"Alright, I get it," he shuts the oven door and rolls his eyes. "You're smarter than me."

"Says the boy at medical school," Anna scoffs.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he comes to stand in front of her, and leans in. Anna, expecting a kiss, closes her eyes, only instead of Jonathan's lips, she feels something cold and slimy hit the top of her head, emitting a resounding crunch as it does so. 

"Egged!" Jonathan declares, already in fits of laughter. Slowly, Anna opens her eyes, letting out a squeal as she feels the egg drip down her hair. 

"Oh my God," she gasps, another squeak escaping her lips when the liquid begins to run down her back. "Jonathan!"

He pauses in his laughter as though he's about to say something, only to glance at her and collapse back into fits of laughter. 

Anna watches him incredulously for a few seconds, then lets her eyes narrow. "Oh," she growls, reaching for the flour sitting beside her on the counter, "it is so on."

Within moments, Jonathan's entire upper body is covered in white dust, and he's looking up at her disbelievingly. "Anna," he chokes out, sounding much like she did only a few seconds ago.

"Yes?" she smirks.

"Really? The whole thing?"

Anna glances at the bag in her hand, which is now empty, and shrugs. "That's what happens when you crack an egg onto my head."

The shock is gone from Jonathan's expression, in its place something that's actually vaguely terrifying. "Oh, you wanna go?" he asks, grabbing the sugar from the counter. Anna is already backing way, slipping off the counter and moving slowly in the direction of the living room.

"Uh, okay, Jonathan," she says, eyes flitting nervously to the pack of sugar in his hand. "No need for that, since we're even now - "

Her words are cut off by a shower of sugar being deposited atop her head. She waits, almost patiently, for Jonathan to empty almost the last of the sugar onto her, before giving him a supremely unimpressed look. "Mature," she deadpans. "Real mature."

Jonathan gives her a grin, and looks like he's about to say something, but she's already rushing across the kitchen to snatch the butter from the fridge, opening it and smearing two fingers of it into his hair.

"Anna!" he near-screeches, dodging her hand, which has already rearmed itself with butter. "Mom's gonna kill me!"

"You started it," she declares in response, covering him in more butter. "Do you surrender?"

"Never!" Jonathan responds, even while another dollop of butter is dispensed into his half blonde, half white (from the flour) locks.

"You sure about that?" she laughs wickedly, reaching for the bowl that contains the remnants of the cookie batter and promptly placing it upside down onto his head.

"Okay, okay, you got me!" he says, voice muffled by the bowl. 

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I surrender!"

"Sorry, a little louder for me, my ears aren't what they used to b - "

"Anna!"

"Okay," Anna laughs at his childish tone, removing the bowl from his head to reveal a pout underneath. "Aw," she ruffles his hair, and flour flies everywhere. "Is someone a sore loser?"

"You're evil," he informs her, heading for the sink and beginning to wash the mixture of ingredients from his hands.

"You love me," she retorts without missing a beat, joining him and scrubbing the butter from her fingers.

There's a silence as they both wash their hands, before Jonathan says in a soft tone of voice: "Yeah, I do."

She feels her heart skip a few beats, and opens her mouth to respond, only to be cut off by an insistent tapping above their heads, followed by some clattering.

"Dasher?" he asks amusedly.

"Aha, yeah," she responds, sheepish. "And Blitzen, I think. They always get a bit rowdy by the time we get to the Americas."

“So I’m guessing you’re on present duty this year?” Jonathan raises an eyebrow.

“Well, I kinda wanted to be this year,” Anna admits. “Nick was up in time and everything, I just...I don’t know.”

“You like leaving presents,” he says quietly.

“I...yeah,” she nods. “I think I do. I really think I do. Struggles of climbing up and down chimneys notwithstanding.”

“Well, good,” he smiles, moving past her to extract two tea towels from a nearby cupboard and throwing one to her, using the other to begin to dust the flour-butter combination from his hair. “Because I think you’re the best person to do it. I mean, I haven’t met Nick, of course – ”

“I don’t think you want to,” she interrupts, chuckling at the thought. “The two of you are very different people.”

“Well, who knows?” Jonathan has finished towelling his hair, and it now looks of a natural colour again. “Opposites attract.”

Anna’s eyes narrow playfully. “What are you implying?”

His eyes widen, and he flushes a pale shade of pink. “Not like that – ”

“It’s okay for you to be attracted to him. I mean, he is my twin brother...”

“You guys aren’t identical, though,” he points out.

“How did you know that?”

“You mentioned once,” Jonathan shrugs. “You said he wasn’t a redhead like you.”

“You remember that?”

“Of course,” he says as though it’s obvious, looking at her strangely. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I...don’t know.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he waves off, shooting her a smile. “I think we all know which Claus sibling I’m attracted to, anyway.”

Anna smirks. “That’s true. Med school still killing you?”

“To death,” Jonathan sighs. “At least next year I’ll be done studying. They’re gonna put me in a trial course at a hospital, to try stuff out, you know?”

“Oh?” Anna asks curiously.

“Yeah,” he nods, eager. “It’s gonna be so great, seriously, they’re putting me in the pediatric ward.”

“What you wanted to do,” she murmurs fondly.

“Mhm,” they’re both sat at the kitchen table now, cookies in the oven and the two of them suitably flour, butter, sugar and egg-free. “I’m psyched, honestly – ”

“Jonathan!”

They both freeze.

Who’s that? Anna mouths. Flynn, Jonathan mouths back. Gimme a sec.

He clears his throat, before calling up, “Yeah, buddy?”

“Santa’s reindeer are totally here!”

“Uh...what?” she can tell that Jonathan is fighting to keep his tone even, and she knows why – her heartbeat is already beating a little faster.

“I’m serious! They’re up here!”

“Up here?”

“On the roof!”

Before Anna even knows what’s happening, Jonathan’s flying up from his seat, taking the stairs three at a time. “Flynn!” he shouts as he ascends, “Get down! It’s icy up there!”

She hesitates for a split second, before following him. On the second floor, she passes four rooms, the door of one flung open. Anna catches a glimpse of a few Harry Potter posters stuck to the walls, and a stack of Playstation games in the corner. The bed is messy and unmade, the comforter flung haphazardly away from it, as though the owner were in a hurry to get out.

“Flynn!”

Anna’s heart drops.

In the nine years Anna’s known him, she has never heard Jonathan McQueen scream. Quickly, she continues up the staircase, eventually coming to a glass door which is wide open, leading out onto the roof. It’s snowing hard, and she can just make out Jonathan and a small figure further away, approaching her sleigh.

“Flynn!” Jonathan yells again. “Come back here!”

“No, but seriously, Jonathan, come look, this is so cool!”

“Flynn, it’s icy up here! You’ll slip.”

Flynn turns to give Jonathan a look. “I’m not going to slip. Why are you not finding this cool, Jonathan? This is so cool!”

“Flynn!” Jonathan stops, taking a few deep breaths, then continues in a quieter, but more urgent tone of voice. “I know it’s cool, okay. Just...come back here and we can have a look at them later?”

“They’ll be gone later.”

“They won’t! I promise. They’ll still be here,” for the first time since he ran up the stairs, Jonathan turns around and glances at Anna. She gives him a nod and a smile that she hopes is reassuring. At the sight of her, he seems to calm slightly, and turns back to his little brother. “I know the person who drives them, bro. They’ll still be here.”

Flynn looks unsurely between the sleigh and his brother. The wind howls louder, more insistently, and Anna can barely see for the snow falling in thick, heavy flakes. “Okay,” he relents, and she can barely hear it, but sees Jonathan visibly relax with relief.

“Okay,” he repeats. “Now, just...just come over, okay?” Flynn nods, and both her and Jonathan watch as he makes an unsteady retreat.  

When someone falls, the first thing to go is their feet. The feet keep the entire body stabilised – without them, it’s impossible to stand. If the feet make one tiny slip-up – if just one foot makes a slip-up, the entire body will follow suit.

Flynn’s foot skids on the ice – just for a second, but isn’t a second always enough?

She hears a screech emitted from the boy, and his arms windmill as he desperately tries to regain his balance, but it’s too late, his body already falling with a heavy crunch across the side of the roof and slipping down the tiles to land heavily on the sidewalk below them.

“FLYNN!”

Anna didn’t think Jonathan could move any faster when he was racing up the stairs to keep his little brother from falling – but she’s proven wrong when she sees him racing down them to reach his little brother again. She’s hot on his heels, but even so, she’s late enough for Jonathan to already be kneeling by his brother’s motionless body, begging desperately for him to wake up, speak to me, Flynn, wake up goddamnit, Flynn!

She ignores the feeling in her heart, how it feels like it’s cracking in two, moving quickly to kneel beside him. He doesn’t acknowledge her, still pleading for Flynn to wake up, and it’s then that she notices the trickle of blood leaking from beneath Flynn’s head, colouring the snow beneath it a deep and ugly crimson.

“FLYNN!” Jonathan screams again, tears streaming down his face. “For God’s sake, Flynn, wake up, wake up, please wake up!”

She sees Jonathan’s hand wrapped around his brother’s wrist, and her heart sinks as she realises that Jonathan’s already taken Flynn’s pulse, and he knows he’s begging his little brother to do the impossible.

“Oh my God,” Jonathan chokes out in between sobs, grabbing his cell phone from his pocket and dialling into it quickly. “Oh my God...”

Anna watches in silence as Jonathan speaks quickly down the phone and then throws it down onto the concrete of the sidewalk, still crouched over Flynn, his body wracked with silent sobs.

“Jonathan...” she breathes, hand reaching out hesitantly for his shoulder.

“Flynn,” he grits out, still clinging onto Flynn’s wrist, “Flynn, wake up. Wake up.” Jonathan collapses back into sobs, “Flynn, please, please – ”

“Jonathan,” she says a little louder now, fingers curling around his shoulder. “Jonathan, he – ”

“Shut up!” he screams, turning to face her, and her hand flies back immediately, as though stung. “This is your fault!”

“Jonathan – ”

“None of this would have fucking happened if it weren’t for fucking Christmas and your fucking reindeer – ”

“Jona – ”

“Just go!” Jonathan yells, shaking. “Go!”

There’s a long silence. She looks at him, and he holds her gaze, eyes still shimmering with unshed tears and his jaw stiff.

“Okay,” Anna says softly. “I’ll go.”

A siren that has been sounding for the past few minutes is closer now, and she can just make out the large white vehicle turning down the road of Jonathan’s road, tyres skidding across the ice. Quickly, she moves round the back of the house, hears Jonathan begin to explain with an edited version of what had taken place, leaving her and her reindeer out. The paramedic nods with a grave expression, and Anna quickly makes her way up to the roof, barely able to look at the sleigh. The voices from the sidewalk are still clearly audible, and she can see two more bodies emerging from the house, and her heart breaks a little more at the sound of their mother’s pained scream.

Anna leaves just as a voice declares Flynn McQueen dead at five minutes to midnight on the twenty-fourth of December.

 ___________________________________________________________

a/n: [silently prepares self for inevitable onslaught of abuse and death threats]