Follows 3.13 with a time jump.
For RB_ANON with the prompt word : Stocking. Please see either The Bubbles Over the Cracks or Giggles at Dawn for more info about these Christmas oneshots.
Enjoy!
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When Andy wakes, it's dawn Christmas Day. The sun is just breaking over the horizon, marred by the spears of steel and glass, and dapples her body in gold and shadow.
Glancing at the battered bedside table, she sighs at the time; 6:04. Too early to get up but she's too wired to go back to sleep. Rolling, she shifts to stare at the ceiling and does her best to ignore the faint snores coming from Nick.
While they had been given they day off from 'work', that didn't mean they had been a day off from the operation.
Which meant they were celebrating Christmas in a dingy cover apartment with only one another for company, just as it had been for months.
After several more impatient roles and a muttered curse utter her way from the far side of the bed, Andy eventually gains her feet and leaves the bedroom behind.
Although the sleeping conditions weren't ideal, the queen sized bed had been the only feasible place for both Nick and Andy to crash. And, as Luke had explained quietly, they were supposed to be a young couple in love, which is what the female target had a soft spot for, so of course there was only one bed.
Running a hand over her disheveled hair, Andy makes her way to the coffee maker. Turning it on, she waits impatiently for the hot liquid to fill a cup before she leaves the kitchen and heads for the couch.
On the small sized coffee table is a miniature Christmas tree; about two feet tall and decorated with a tiny string of lights. Underneath are four packages; two small gifts from one to the other wrapped in scraps of festive paper.
At first glance, the tree appears cute and cheery, but Andy thinks it looks rather forlorn.
She imagines the opening of the meagre gifts will be rather somber as well, as soon as Nick awakes.
Settling herself into the couch, she prepares for the sure to be memory and nostalgic steeped morning and the likelihood of drinking that will follow.
As she sinks into a eerily depressed frame of thought (by god, she misses him even when she half hates him. She's still not quite excepting of the other half), there is a soft knock at the door.
Setting her mug on the table, Andy rises, idly wondering who it could be. There were no scheduled meets with Luke or their other handler anytime soon and they weren't expected at work today.
Pulling the door open slowly, habit having her leave the chain lock on and a hand on the knife kept in a drawer by the door (Nick's idea; but they both still remembered what had happened to Gail. There was no use taking chances, even on a UC op), she frowns at the empty hallway. She heads to close the door and almost misses it; it's only the flash of brilliant colour that catches her eye.
Shutting the door and undoing the lock, Andy once again pulls the door wide and is confronted with a small, red stocking hanging on the handle.
She peers into the hall cautiously before she even touches the thing; when she does, it's with careful fingers.
Nudging the entry shut behind her, Andy goes to the kitchen table and sets the tiny stocking on the polished wood. From the weight of it, she can tell there's something in it, a little box perhaps.
On a deep breath, she upends the red fabric and eyes the navy box about the size of her wrist that falls out.
Moving the discarded stocking to the side, she lifts the box as she sits, examining it keenly for any hint of who it could be from.
Finally, after learning nothing from the velvety outside, she opens the lid and has to force herself to bite back a gasp.
There, nestled in a bed of cotton, is a tiny lion figurine on a silver chain.
She knows exactly who it's from and doesn't bother to wonder how he did it.
Tears well in her eyes as she runs a gentle finger over the smooth metal; the fierce little beast stares right back at her.
Something inside her unfurls, a deep, bright longing for home, for him.
But she has to fight it, because the UC is almost done. She can't let herself get clouded now.
However, just for now, just this lonely Christmas morning, she lets it well up and surround her.
The tears streak her face, but they aren't tears of sadness, they are of joy.
Clutching the lion to her chest, she whispers the words she never thought she'd say again along with the ones she had hoped to say to him.
"I love you too. Merry Christmas Sam."
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I accept any sort of feedback like pie and Christmas cookies; always.