THE LITTLE DRUMMER GIRL

A/N: JUST ANOTHER CHRISTMAS-Y FIC. ENJOY! I DO NOT OWN RENT.

"Let's see what we got here," Roger strolled over to the radio and began flipping stations. There was country, rap, vintage, Christmas, reggae…

"Go back," Angel instructed, sitting up a bit more, "I think that was…yeah," she said, the station was changed and the familiar song sounded through the living room of the loft, "This is my favorite Christmas song."

Mimi smiled, recognizing the song, "I remember this one."

"Me too," Roger leaned against the wall, his head bobbing to the music.

"Ba-ba-ba-bampa-bamp-ba-bampa-bamp-ba-ba-ba-ba-bampa-bamp-bamp," Angel's drumsticks tapped lightly to the beat of the music. Her eyes closed lightly and she smiled, never missing a single beat.

Mark sat on the couch listening. He had heard the song too, in shopping malls and Hallmark stores when he was younger.

Collins watched his Angel play, seeing how intent she was and how focused. This song clearly meant something to her; he just didn't really know what. He couldn't help but smile as the song finished; Angel put down her drumsticks gently on the table, sat back on the couch, and smiled.

"I love that song."

"What is so special about it for you?" Mark asked.

"The little boy had nothing to give, so he gave all that he had – his song. I may not have much, but I have my song and my passion. I can give that."

"You give too much, Angel," Collins said, pulling her into a tight hug.

"I don't give nearly enough. But the song makes me feel like I'm doin' okay. Hell, I've never been religious but there's just something about giving back to Him. I mean, He did put us here, right? He does give us each morning and each sunset and each flower and each raindrop. Surely we can give Him something in return, right?"

Everyone stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. It was true, Angel was never a religious person, and neither were they. Hypocrisy and hatred had turned them away from it long ago. But something Angel had said did strike a chord.

"Is that why you play?" Mimi asked, bluntly.

"I guess," Angel replied, never having thought about it, "I mean, the people on the street – sometimes they care to listen and sometimes they don't. As for me, hell chica, I already know I got something good. So who am I really playing for? Hey, I was given this talent, why not use it to say thanks?"

"I like that," Mimi smiled towards her best friend, "You got a good heart, Angel."

"Thank you, honey," Angel smiled, "Well, enough mushy stuff! Let's go get something to eat I'm starving and I need a drink."

They headed out into the cold out to the Life Café, the usual hangout of choice for them. After taking a seat, Roger spoke up.

"That's how guitar is for me."

"And my filming."

"And my dancing…well, the clean stuff anyways," Mimi giggled.

It was true, they all had gifts. Rather they believed in a god or not, they knew that someone had given them these talents – why not use them to say thanks.