A CHRISTMAS CLARA I FLYNN CARSEN

First Stop, Tinsel-Town

Author's Note: This is the sequel to Plato's Step-Daughter. The reading order so far for all of my Flynn/Clara fiction is: And She Was Not An Adventure, Plato's Step-Daughter, and A Christmas Clara. Each new Flynn/Clara story will include an updated reading order. Videos for characters canon and original, can be found on my Youtube channel via the link on my profile.

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First Stop, Tinsel-Town

Up above candles on air flicker
Oh they flicker and they flow
And I am up here holding on to all those chandeliers of hope...

"Nice polka-dots," Clara observed, coming down the sweeping staircase, eying Cassandra's cardigan with approval.

"I feel like I'm out of 101 Dalmatians," Cassandra sing-songed, hanging up a Christmas stocking.

"Woof," Ezekiel interjected, examining a candy cane critically.

"Oh, no," Eve said as she strode through the doorway. "You have got to be kidding me."

Jacob waggled his reindeer antlers at her, making Jenkins roll his eyes.

"First stop, Tinsel-Town," Clara said, swinging a piece of tinsel over her shoulder like a scarf.

"Last stop, Eggnog Creek," Jacob said, dumping a tome on Flynn's desk, only for it to disappear.

"Why does it keep doing that!?" Clara snapped. She'd spent the last week trying to establish some order to Flynn's desk, only to fail miserably

"Because I can," the desk replied nastily.

"At least it gave up insulting my ass," Jacob said, picking up a snow globe.

"I discovered better ways to pass my time," the desk retorted. "The world doesn't revolve around your ass, you know."

"I thought it did," Jacob parried, "and oh my God, somebody is inside this snow globe," he exclaimed in astonishment, doing a double-take.

"Give me that," Jenkins said, snatching it from him. "I wondered where Wyatt Earp had got to."

"Wyatt Earp?" Eve asked, coming over.

"Not the real one," Jenkins said, rolling his eyes again. "An imposter."

"I thought all the magical artefacts where lost with the Library?" Clara asked suspiciously.

"Most of them are - the ones we do have are just flotsam washed up on the shore," Jenkins explained, stowing the snow globe away in a filing cabinet, "like the Golden Fleece and the curiosity cabinet. I don't know what will turn up next. It's so exciting; I can barely sleep with the anticipation."

"Yes, it all sounds rather thrilling," Clara smiled sweetly, making Jenkins glare at her.

"It stole the nutcracker!" Ezekiel yelled, pointing accusingly at Flynn's desk. "Thief!"

"Pot calling kettle black," Jacob muttered.

"Blame the Annex," Jenkins said, coming back over, "not the desk."

"Why not the desk?" Cassandra asked, frowning. "It's alive, isn't it?"

"Well, yes," Jenkins said, tilting his head to the side, "but the Annex is just an interface to the Library. The desk is Flynn's workspace, so the Annex will always reset it to his specifications. He's the Librarian, so his settings will always take precedence. He... belongs here."

"And we don't?" Clara challenged.

Jenkins just walked away, flapping his hand at her.

"What was that about?" Cassandra asked, exchanging a glance with Jacob.

"I think he's missing Flynn," Eve said, leaning against a bookcase, ignoring its wolf-whistle.

"We all do," Ezekiel said, casting a mournful glance at the statue he'd made of Flynn, now cluttering up an obscure corner.

Clara turned away, running his hand over Flynn's desk, imagining him sitting there, hunched over, stuffing himself with stuffed mushrooms. It wasn't exactly a memory to warm the cockles of her heart, but it was the first that came to mind, and it suited Flynn, being as random and bizarre as he was.

"Why are you turning this place into my worst nightmare?" Eve then asked, gesturing to the gigantic Christmas tree by the door. "I thought I would find some respite in here."

"Oh, it's all good clean family fun," Jacob said, donning a red nose.

"It's the most joyous holiday of the entire year," Cassandra said, looking at Eve as if she were insane.

"Hot damn it is," Jacob agreed enthusiastically, "nieces and nephews ripping through presents, and grandparents singing - I get to see my cousins once a year, go out and play a little pool - but funnily enough, I've never once got into a bar brawl on Christmas Eve."

"A Christmas Eve bar brawl?" Eve said, raising an eyebrow.

Jacob's eyes grew distant with longing. "Oh, I miss it," he said quietly, his fists clenching by his sides.

"Well, my parents thought Christmas would stunt the development of my intellectual rigour if I was exposed to supernatural fallacies during my formative years," Cassandra said without taking a breath, nearly going cross-eyed with the effort. "They told me Santa wasn't real at a very young age." She held up three fingers. "I wish I had a little while to believe, but alas, it was not to be."

"Okay..." Eve said, slightly taken aback. "How do you celebrate, Jones?" she hastily asked Ezekiel, turning to him, just in time to see him pocketing a Polly Pocket.

"I just steal a fortune or two," Ezekiel said, shrugging his shoulders.

"What about you, Clara?" Jacob asked her, noticing she was suddenly very quiet. "How do you celebrate?"

"I... I usually work through Christmas," Clara said, repressing the memories of the Christmases she'd shared with her parents before they passed on, "I need the lucre."

"Well, I just hunker down and hope for the best until it's over," Eve said, glancing up as Jenkins burst through the doors, pushing a retro looking payphone.

"Listen, Gretchen," Jenkins said testily into the glossy black receiver, "he's not here. If he was, I would tell you, and no, I do not want to end up on the naughty list." He rolled his eyes, listening to Gretchen rant on. "Why would he be here!?" he then exclaimed, turning his back on the others who were shamelessly eavesdropping. "Look, I'll be right on it. Just hold onto your jingle bells." He slammed the phone down, before wiping the sweat from his brow, striking a pose reminiscent of Scarlett O'Hara starving on the ravaged acres of Tara.

"What was that about?" Eve asked, brow furrowing.

"Christmas is cancelled," Jenkins said bluntly, "as in Christmas is cancelled for the whole world, and then the whole world will be cancelled because Santa Claus has disappeared."