~*~Santa, Sobs, and a Madison Christmas~*~
Whoever handled the decorating this year clearly took “winter wonderland” as a personal challenge. We’re talking lights on every bannister, garlands thick enough to hide a grown adult, a snow machine blasting flakes over the food court, and Mariah Carey echoing through the atrium like she was summoning an army. Holiday tourists swarmed through the building like migrating penguins with credit cards.
Right in the middle of it all: the Madison-O’Connell clan.
Bella led the group with the confidence of a woman who could bulldoze through Times Square traffic if she felt like it. Laura walked beside her, peppermint mocha in hand, looking entirely too proud of this chaos, as though she personally invented Christmas. Nick hung behind them, muttering at price tags like they were personally insulting him. And then there was Malachi: three shopping bags hung on his wrist, zero joy on his face, looking like someone who’d rather be wrestling a grizzly bear than navigating a NYC mall in early December.
“It’s like a human cattle drive,” Mal muttered under his breath as a group of teenagers nearly clipped him, "Why are we here again?”
“Because you love me,” Bella said cheerfully without looking back.
“No, I love you at home, where my couch is and more importantly where my sanity is.”
Before Bella could respond, a tiny gasp broke through the crowd noise.
Little Máire, wrapped in a puffy pink coat, with her little boots shaped like little wolves, and clutching a candy cane like a weapon, pressed her face against the railing overlooking the center court.
“...Sanna?”
And there he was. The jolly fat man himself, stationed on a velvet chair like he ruled the North Pole, surrounded by elves who probably wanted hazard pay and were honestly entitled to it. Children and parents had already begun lining up, some eager, some screaming, some both.
“Oh boy,” Nick chuckled, "Here we go.”
Máire’s eyes widened impossibly further, "Sanna! Sanna! Wanna see Sanna!”
Bella knelt, "You wanna go see Santa? Really?”
Máire nodded so violently her little ponytail smacked her in the face.
Mal sighed, "Of course she does. She couldn’t want, I don’t know, ice cream....or even a nap. I could go for a nap right now.”
Laura elbowed him, "Mal, stop being a Grinch. Let your little girl have her moment.”
“It’s not being a Grinch,” Mal protested, "Look at that line already! I feel like I’m the only sane person here.”
But the decision wasn’t his, because Máire took off.
“OH SHIT!” Bella darted after her before the toddler could dive headfirst into a stroller or, worse, the decorative fountain.
Nick followed behind at a casual stroll, "She definitely gets the running from you.”
“Yes, thanks, Dad, very helpful!” Bella called back, scooping up her escapee.
Once captured, Máire squirmed and pointed at Santa again with the urgency of someone defusing a bomb, “Go see Sanna! Please, Mama!”
Bella carried her toward the line. The problem?
As soon as they got close enough for Máire to actually see Santa’s big red suit and beard up close, the little child actually froze and then trembled and without fail she buried her face into Bella’s shoulder and whispered, terrified, “Too big.”
Bella hid her smile, "Sweetie, you ran across half the mall for him.”
“Too big...” Máire repeated, clutching Bella’s shirt like Santa was a kaiju.
Laura, already recording, cackled, "Oh this is perfect.”
“Mom,” Bella hissed, “put the phone down, please?”
“Absolutely not. This is the kind of thing that you can use at her high school graduation party or wedding.”
“Oh mom, honestly. Did you do this with Aaron too?” Bella glared at her mother.
“Nick got that one...in 4k. I’ll have to remember to send it to you later.” Laura said as she looked at her granddaughter, “Máire are you going to say hi to Santa?”
Santa himself waved, "Ho! Ho! Ho! Oh, hello there!”
And oh boy that was the wrong move, big guy. Máire’s lower lip wobbled, her eyes filled with tears and then, “WAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
It was the kind of shriek that made shoppers in three different stores turn their heads to find out what the hell happened.
Mal pinched the bridge of his nose, "Yep. I knew it. I knew this was coming. It was fine last year because she was still so tiny but now...”
Nick laughed so hard he nearly dropped the bag he was carrying, "Oh man, that’s my granddaughter, alright. Brave one second, terrified the next.”
“Alright, alright,” Bella murmured, rubbing circles on Máire’s back, "It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to sit with Santa. Wanna just wave from far away?”
Máire sniffled, peeked over Bella’s shoulder, and whispered, “Far far way.”
“Okay,” Bella said gently, "Far far away it is.” They stepped back ten feet and then Máire waved a very little tiny one. Then Santa waved back. Máire hid again in her mom’s shoulder and whimpered.
Progress at least....she didn’t shriek like a banshee.
Laura snapped one more picture, "Oh I’m going to show this to everyone.”
“Mom...Seriously stop, help me please!.”
“What? It’s adorable. Besides, she shouldn’t fear Santa. The Easter Bunny? Perhaps. But Santa? No.”
Mal looked down at his daughter, "See? We survived the Santa encounter. Can we go home now?”
“Ha!” Laura barked a little too loudly, “We’re just getting started.”
Mal groaned like a man marching to the gallows.
Bella kissed the top of Máire’s head, "You did so good, baby. We’ll try again next year, okay?”
Shoppers bumped past each other with Macy’s bags, Sephora bags, Lego Store bags, the entire place vibrated with that early December adrenaline but none of that mattered because Máire had only one target in her sights, the man in red with the beautiful beard, Santa. Or rather... she had a target until she got within ten feet of the giant red throne.
Bella held her now, still trembling, still hiccupping from the sudden outburst. Her tear-damp curls clung to her cheeks as she hid her face in Bella’s collarbone, trying to recover. Mal stood nearby in full long-suffering dad mode, holding three shopping bags and contemplating the meaning of life. Laura had her phone raised, filming like the CIA. Nick leaned against a velvet rope, hands tucked in his coat pockets, watching the entire scene with amused sympathy.
And across the barrier sat the man himself, a New York department-store Santa with a real beard, a booming laugh, and the patience of a saint who had been at this all day. Máire peeked again just a tiny, cautious look and then quickly hid again when she saw Santa look towards her.
Bella kissed her head, "We don’t have to get close again, sweetie. We can just wave from right here.”
Máire let out a sniff. Then a second. Then a soft little, “..Sanna nice?”
Mal snorted, “I mean, for a guy who works inside a mall surrounded by tourists, he’s practically a superhero.”
Laura added, “He’s super nice, sweetheart. He gives hugs and listens and says ‘ho ho ho.’ You love ‘ho ho ho.’”
Nick leaned in, "If you want, kiddo, I can walk up with you. Papa will sit with you the whole time.”
Máire stared at Santa again as Santa waved gently. This time, she didn’t burst into tears and she didn’t hide. She just watched him. You could almost see the calculating and processing in her 2 year old little brain. Making the kind of big emotional decision only a two-year-old could understand.
Bella shifted her so they were face to face, "Do you want to try again? You don’t have to if you don’t but if you want to, Mommy will be right there.”
There was a pause and then...then the tiniest nod. Determined & Brave. She was a Madison through and through ...with a touch* (*Whovian tech for a lot bigger than assumed) of that O’Connell stubborn streak.
“Okay,” Bella breathed out, “We’ll try again.”
They rejoined the line, weaving through velvet ropes and impatient parents as a jazzed-up version of “Let It Snow” blared from the mall speakers, making everything feel even more surreal. Santa saw them approaching and gave a warm smile, "Well hello again, sweetheart.”
Máire tensed but she didn’t cry.
Bella brushed her hair back, "You’re safe, baby. Mommy’s right here.”
Santa extended a gloved hand, not close enough to scare her, just a polite greeting from a respectful distance. Máire stared at his glove as her lower lip trembled then steadied and she reached out.
A tiny fingertip tap from her little hand to his. The elf beside Santa visibly gasped in support, hands flying to her chest.
Santa chuckled warmly, "You are very brave indeed.”
Then, unbelievably, Máire lifted her arms toward him. Like a peace offering with a little surrender. And most like courage incarnate.
“You wanna sit with Santa?” Bella asked, awe in her voice.
Máire nodded, eyes wide but sure.
“Holy shit,” Mal whispered, “She’s doing it.”
Bella gently passed her over, keeping one hand on her back until she settled. Máire was stiff as a board at first, every muscle locked, every breath short.
Santa spoke softly, "You’re doing wonderfully, little one.”
Máire blinked up at him then she grabbed his beard. Bella almost tried to stop her but Santa waved her off. She then she decided to test the beard...Gave it a small tug.
Santa burst out laughing, a full, booming laugh that echoed across the holiday display and down toward the atrium. Máire lit up, practically beaming as she smacked her hands on his red coat and declared joyfully, “SANNAAAA!”
Bella’s knees nearly gave out at the sight of her daughter in laughter now talking up a storm to Santa. Mal stared like his heart had grown three sizes, “I cannot believe this kid.”
The elf snapped a photo, a perfect shot of Máire mid-laugh, Santa glowing with grandfatherly joy, and Bella and Mal in the background looking like they won the parenting Olympics. Santa handed her back gently. She wrapped her arms around Bella’s neck, warm and proud.
“I did it,” she whispered, small and triumphant.
Bella kissed her cheek, "Yeah, baby. You did.”
And with Santa conquered, the Madison-O’Connell family marched off into the bustling NYC mall, shopping bags, holiday chaos, exhausted parents and all, with Máire shining like the bravest little Christmas star this city had ever seen.
~*~The Barn, the Breaking Point, and the Belligerence~*~
OR
~*~Rules of Engagement: Edge of Nice? Fuck It.~*~
The O’Connell property sat quiet under a slate-gray December sky, the kind of cold that made the world feel sharper, meaner. Snow clung to the fields but the old training barn, converted, reinforced, heated, and filled to the rafters with equipment, glowed warm from the inside.
This place had seen every version of Bella Madison. The broken one. The rebuilding one. And lately the barely-contained and very opinionated one.
Inside, the space echoed faintly with the low hum of heaters and the thud of fists against leather. Bella slammed a stiff right hand into the heavy bag again, again, again with each hit sharper than the last, her breath fogging in the air.
Malachi leaned against the ring ropes, arms folded, watching her with that familiar mixture of pride and concern. The man had learned over the years that stopping her mid-burn was pointless, especially if she had heavy metal blaring from the speakers. He was grateful that they moved out into the country and far away from any reasonable neighbors because there were times that in the middle of the night you would hear Lzzy Hale or Taylor Momsen or some other rock star goddess ringing out from the barn. He knew that you let Bella burn herself out a little first and then you talk.
But tonight, the fire wasn’t dimming, it was growing steadily and at a fierce rate.
A final punch sent the bag swinging wildly. Bella stepped back, chest rising and falling, jaw tight. Her knuckles were wrapped but already showing red where the friction had bitten through.
Mal exhaled slowly, "Alright, it’s time to talk to me. You’re not training, you’re punishing something and what it is...I’m not quite sure. I thought after High Stakes you’d be...a little more contained if that’s a good way to put it but you have been even more on edge since...so what’s going on, mo ghrá?”
Bella shook out her hands, then picked up a kendo stick leaning against the ring apron, "You wanna know what I’m punishing?” She pointed it at the empty space like she was stabbing the air, "Look at the last few weeks that I’ve had.”
She climbed into the ring, pacing like a caged animal, the kendo stick tapping the canvas with every step.
“Crystal Caldwell and of course Mercedes Vargas, who I want to stomp into oblivion after what she fucking did. And now we have Crystal prancing around here with the World Championship that SHOULD have been mine but yeah we get treated to that because the world is just not fucked up enough. I have Bea Goddamn Barnhart hanging around me like some boozy hangover from hell that not a single remedy can help me get rid of it. And now we’re going to add in former champ and chip on her fucking shoulder the size of Montana, Frankie Holliday that is now added to the list of ‘people I need to destroy before I get where I actually want to be.’”
Mal stayed where he was, letting her pace. Just letting her vent because it’s what he does for her and her for him. It was the wonderful give and take of their relationship.
She stopped dead center of the ring, eyes burning, "I’m trying, Mal. I am trying to be patient and professional, but I swear to God... it feels like they are....I don’t know...they’re pushing me.”
He nodded once, "So push back.”
Bella actually laughed...a sharp, humorless one that led to that infamous ‘I’m about to get myself into deep shit’ glare of hers that Mal fell in love with all those years ago, "Oh, I plan to and starting right now.”
She turned on her heels, climbing through the ropes and hopped down from the ring, reaching into her bag, grabbing her phone from it, she moved swiftly to the side of the room that had been set up a while ago for promo practice purposes and propped it onto a tripod that was sitting there waiting. After some fiddling on the screen, opening her camera app, and centering, she clicked the record button and the red light blinked.
She slowly stepped in front of it and almost instantly, you could see her posture had changed. It was centered, deadly calm in a way that felt far more dangerous than her pacing.
Mal watched quietly, and as it was obvious that he was falling more in love with her in that instant. She had that amazing way about her.
This wasn’t rage that he just saw anymore. This was clarity sharpened into a weapon and she was about to slice them all down.
Bella stepped closer to the camera, the training barn behind her like her kingdom of violence, lit by hard by the white lights that they installed when it was built.
“Do you guys want to know why I’m in here tonight?” she began, her voice low but razor steady, "Because patience has left the building, got in the car and sped the fuck down the highway at a high rate of speed missing every single hazard along the way. The ‘nice Bella’ everyone expects and has come to love to kick around? Yeaaaaaaaaaaaah, she walked out with it after High Stakes.”
A small, humorless smile twitched at the corner of her mouth.
“Frankie Holliday and Bea Barnhart. You’re the unlucky ones standing in front of me this week. A triple threat hardcore match in Colorado Springs.” She tapped the kendo stick against her palm, "And I’m the Queen of Hardcore. So do the math.”
She leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
“Frankie... let’s start with you.”
Her breath fogged. The barn felt colder somehow.
“You had something I wanted....specifically someone I want after I was so rudely denied. Crystal Caldwell robbed me first, then she robbed you. Difference is? I didn’t get my rightful chance. You did and you lost.”
The words hit like punches.
“I respect what you’ve done, you took that title rightfully. And I guess...and I know this is probably going to potentially piss people off...I respected the champ you were. But respect doesn’t keep me from taking this chance of breaking you. I’m done waiting for my chance and I’m done playing backstage politics. If I have to take out one of the former Bombshell Champions to get where I’m going?” She shrugged, "Then so fucking be it.”
She took a step back, smile fading.
“And then there is Bea.” There was a beat where her eyes sharpened to lethal points, “Bea Barnhart, I swear to every deity anyone’s ever prayed to, if you do not get your nose out of everyone’s business, I will remove it myself. I can already tell you what will potentially be said without even turning to the SCW Social Media team to give myself a melatonin from her promo.”
Mal smirked quietly in the background, but did not interrupt.
“You are going to sit there with Bill’s balls tucked in your purse and you are going to want to paint me as whining. Potentially me bitching and maybe even a tad bit of moaning?” Bella asked, voice rising dangerously, "You want to talk about pain sensors and losing streaks? Honey... I beat you and Cassie at High Stakes. There was zero denial of that. It was clean, it was definitive. AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, it was final.”
She paused for just a moment, her voice softening into something far more sinister.
“You are not a threat, you haven’t been one in a very, VERY long time. You are not a roadblock. You’re a thorn in my ass....annoying, pointless, and easily ripped out.”
The kendo stick cracked across her palm once more, loud in the barn.
“And since this match is in my wheelhouse in the terms of not only a triple threat but HARDCORE? I finally get to shut you up without anyone pissing and moaning about rules...because there is NONE to be heard of.” She turned her head just enough for the camera to catch the venom in her next words. “I warned your ass a High Stakes about how you talk to me. I warned you to stay the fuck out of my way and the SCW Powers that Be, put you directly in my path again. And I’m going to make you and Frankie regret every single moment of it.”
The barn practically vibrated with the force of it. Bella stepped closer again, so the camera captured nothing but her face.
“But let’s not pretend this is just about Frankie and Bea. They’re stepping stones and warm bodies that are in the way of my real goal.”
Her tone dropped, a drip of a promise on her tongue. What came next...simply is her calling her shot.
“Crystal and Mercedes, I haven’t forgotten about you. Mercy, you screwed me over. You cost me my chance and you’re both walking around like you’re untouchable. But now it’s like you can’t trust the other...hmm, it’s like I fucking warned you just a few short months ago Crystal when you were doing nothing but carrying Mercy’s bags. Now, you are a World Champion and instead of actually acting like it, it’s turned into a pissing contest.”
She let out a slow exhale.
“I don’t give a damn of who’s holding the belt when this is all said and done. I am going to, come hell or high water or even the apocalypse, get to that top where everyone knows I can be. And fuck anyone that thinks otherwise that doesn’t think I haven’t earned it”
Her eyes glowed with something dark and focused, “I’m coming for everything I fucking deserve and this triple threat? This is me just warming up before the fireworks really get going.”
“So Frankie and Bea...my goals are set, my shots are called. I’m going to bleed you both out to get what I want. If that makes me the bad guy, then so fucking be it. With love...from your Hardcore Queen.”
And then she reached up and clicked the camera off.
Silence hung thick in the barn as she set the tripod down. Mal stepped forward, hands sliding around her waist from behind, chin resting on her shoulder.
“That,” he murmured, “Was the Bella Madison I absolutely know was in there somewhere. The one who doesn’t ever take shit from anyone...even from her own husband.”
Bella leaned back into him, tension slowly melting away, "She’s been trying to be good and to be patient.” A humorless laugh escaped her for a moment, "It’s just not working for me anymore, babe.”
“Then stop trying,” Mal replied simply, "You be you and tear those two apart.”
She nodded, exhaling. “Oh trust me, if it all goes right....I will,” she said with a grin that was half predator, half relief, "Starting this Sunday.”
And outside, snow continued to fall quietly. It was calm and peaceful....and utterly at odds with the storm Bella Madison had just unleashed inside that barn.