I promise you
I'll be home for Christmas
You can count on me
After 11pm, December 25th, 1890 — Bartonburg
The spirit of Christmas had been entirely lost upon Fallon as the month of December crept past without much in the way of progress. Weeks of grunt work saw her slowly gaining the ring leader's trust, but, despite her every attempt otherwise, she still wasn't granted the information required to arrest the bastards. She sent Gabe what tips she could, intervened on the few trafficked girls she had any leeway with, but, mostly, Fallon had been forced to stand idly by as the sales relentlessly continued. She swore they would track them down once the investigation closed, that they would rescue them from their sad fates, but who knew what damage would be done by then? The girls were muggles, after all. With the amount of obliviation required to mend their minds they likely wouldn't have much of their former selves left.
The trend continued until late last night. With it being the holiday (truthfully, Fallon had lost all track of what the date was in her efforts to compartmentalize her work) the few people above her had been granted leave from the latest sale to spend time with their families. (The fact that criminals like these cared to spend time with relatives continued to astonish Fallon.) She'd been called in to protect the leader as the sale was made. Then, as soon as the money exchanged hands, she had rained the full power of the auror's office down upon them with an activated charm in her pocket. From there, it was hours of interrogations, reports, and, thankfully arrests.
She was granted leave around nine that night from the office, and from there it was a flurry of exhausted activity. Fallon stopped into her flat to both reassure Malou that she was, in fact, alive and well and to bathe the six weeks worth of grime off her body. Then, at long last, she floo'ed to Jesse's.
They hadn't parted on good terms, and, had she not spent the last six weeks in another version of hell, she might've reconsidered her late night visit. She might have thought to sleep and recover some before seeing him. Except, Fallon knew without a doubt that were the situation reversed, were she the one forced to wait on him for more than a month, a petty fight wouldn't stop her from wanting to see him. No, if anything, the fight would leave her wanting to see him all the more, if for no other reason than to have the chance to make up.
She moved through his flat as quiet as a mouse, tapping once on his bedroom door before letting herself inside. Tybalt had a lady friend, too, so she didn't wish to disturb whatever Christmas festivities he was presently engaged in. Closing the distance between the door and the bed, Fallon knelt besides his sleeping form and tapped his arm lightly. "Merry Christmas," she murmured, her wand held tight in her hand to deflect any surprised spells he might issue. Fallon had never snuck up on him like this, so anything was possible, really.