Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from GW or my storytelling.
Warnings: Slightly religious, angst, m/m relationships

It Came Upon A Midnight Clear
Bane's Desire

Reflexively looking up the stairwell at the sound of the explosion that shook the building above and below me, I knew at a glance that I was looking death in the eyes once again. Seconds before the lights went out, I saw large chunks of debris tumbling down, bouncing off the walls and the metal staircase as broken bits of the building came hurtling down the stairwell towards me. And then suddenly I was plunged into darkness. Drywall, plaster, metal and wood, obliterated from some sort of explosive device, began to rain down from above and continued to fall around me. Blindly, I dove towards the next landing, a good ten stairs below my current position, and cursed out loud as I fell face down, close to the wall as a world of chaos came tumbling after.

They say that when you're about to die that your life flashes before your eyes. For me, it wasn't my entire life, but scenes from that evening that flashed like short clips of coming attractions shown in movie theaters. Each scene was pictured in my mind in a quick, clear, and precise manner.

FLASH

The guys and I had taken off work early to go to the orphanage that I'd more or less adopted when we'd first moved here after the war. We were all in a good spirits, laughing, happy and eager to spend the afternoon with the kids, helping with the orphanage's Christmas party. There had been food, games, singing and, of course, a visit by Santa bearing gifts and sweets for each child. I'd convinced my friends that a great way to spend the season of good will was to volunteer at the orphanage, that being around children whose natural excitement over the holiday was nothing short of contagious.

We'd gone together in Wufei's car, joking and listening to some Christmas music that was playing softly on the radio as we chatted about the orphanage and the various tasks that would be assigned to us. Once there, the five of us were enthusiastically greeted by both the staff and the excited children. First, we helped dish the food onto the plates and served the forty-three children who lived in the Catholic-run home for parentless children. After the meal was over, the empty plates were removed from the tables and the time for fun and games began. Quatre and Trowa were in charge of the Pin Mary On The Donkey game while Wufei helped the children make a long paper chain of red and green to decorate the hall. Heero, held the bottle of glue protectively as he distributed it in measured amounts to the little ones who worked to stick cotton balls onto a picture of Santa, making him a white, fluffy beard. As for me, I'd been put in charge of setting up the Santa sleigh pinata which was to dangle from a rope on a hook fastened to the ceiling. Everyone in the room knew the paper-mache form was stuffed with toys and candy, and the children's eyes lit up with excitement every time they looked at it as I worked to secure it in place. As part of my job, I dutifully tied the scarf around each child's eyes and put the bat in their hands before playfully spinning them around. I then gave the pinata a push, sending it swinging, a moving target that was harder to hit.

My favorite part of the evening, though, had been the singing. There's just something so pure and heart warming as the sound of children's voices. As they sang sweetly and slightly off tune Away In A Manger, Jingle Bells, the Twelve Days of Christmas as well as other carols of the season, I subtly leaned against Heero, wanting to share the peace I felt at the moment with him. His hand, gently rubbed my back, unnoticed by any prying eyes, letting me know he felt the same way.

FLASH

We'd left the orphanage around seven that evening and Wufei drove us to Quatre and Trowa's townhouse. It was in the better neighborhoods of the city, with extra security precautions in place to protect Quatre - always at some risk by nut or other trying to get some of his money by any means. It was a place I'd call swanky, and having come from L-2, often calling home a bolt hole in decrepit ruins and spaces behind trash cans, I'd normally feel out of place and uncomfortable in such elegant surroundings, that is if it had belonged to anyone other than our two friends. As usual, the blond mogul welcomed us warmly into their home and worked, without being obvious, to ease the insecurities he knew I still carried within me.

Their chef had prepared a meal for our arrival and the five of us sat down to a wonderful dinner of orange duck and mouth-watering, fancy side dishes with names I couldn't begin to pronounce.

No sooner had we settled down in the living room, in front of the very tree I'd helped my friends pick out, when the phone rang. Quatre brought the phone to me and I was informed by the security team at the office that the weekly bomb threat against the Preventers' building had been received and it was my turn on the roster to lead the search. With a sincere apology, I told the other four that I had to leave.

With Wufei's car keys in hand and Trowa's assurance that he would give the other two a ride home, Heero saw me to the door. As we stood face to face at the front door, he slowly wrapped my new turquoise, cashmere scarf around my neck - a gift from Wufei. He then kissed me soundly and my whole body began to warm up at the pleasurable contact.

"I'll wait up for you," Heero whispered into my ear with his deep, seductive voice. "Then we can open up our gifts for each other." With that tone of voice and the amorous look in his eyes, I knew Heero would be waiting up for more than just his present. I desperately hoped the gift I'd gotten my lover would be something that pleased him. I'd chosen it carefully and with a lot of thought. To be truthful, I wasn't nervous about the giving of my gift, but of Heero's acceptance of it.

FLASH

I drove to the apartment where Heero and I lived to change into the required uniform. Five minutes later I was walking down the dark and nearly deserted city streets. With my hands shoved deeply into the pockets of my Preventer jacket and my new scarf wrapped snugly around my neck, I made the three-block trek from our apartment towards Preventers' Headquarters. I tried to put aside my resentment at being called in on Christmas Eve for what would probably, hopefully, be another bogus bomb threat that Preventers received at least twice a week from various organizations threatened by us. Damn, why do people think that just because I'm single doesn't necessarily mean I don't have a life?

Not liking the negative feelings and train of thought I'd been pursing, I decided to be more positive, look on the brighter side. It was Christmas, after all, and granted, it was easier for me to get away and conduct the routine search than some other agent who had a family to take care of on the night before Christmas. Feeling just a tad better, I let my thoughts drift back to that afternoon.

Humming the tune of one of the carols I'd heard the children singing earlier as I walked down the dark city street, I made note of the street lamps glowing and gently lighting the low-hanging clouds that threatened to spill snow at any minute. My eyes took in everything: the closed businesses, some brightly decorated with the trappings of the season, the puffs of breath, visible in the freezing temperature, and the occasional homeless person who would step out of the shadows to see who was entering their territory that late on Christmas Eve. Old Limpy Joe, a familiar face of one homeless men who stayed close to the Preventers' building, thinking it more secure than other places in the city, looked up with a surprise expression on his pinched and weathered face as I drew near the vent where the old man was curled up and trying to sleep. Reaching into my pocket, I took out my wallet and handed the man two bills adding up to forty credits.

"Hey, Joe," I greeted the pitiful man in a quiet voice. "It's Christmas, man. Go somewhere and be warm for the night."

Joe, his thin and worn face displaying the harshness of his life from years spent outside, eagerly snatched the bills from my hand and nodded his gratitude a moment before he limped off into the shadows. I sighed at the man's sorry state. "There, but for the grace of God, go I," I whispered to myself, then continued down the street.

FLASH

The grey-haired, uniformed man who greeted me at the front door of the Preventers' building did so with a cheery smile. "Agent Maxwell," the man I knew simply as Chuck said, nodding his head in greeting. "I see you're the sorry one to draw the short end of the straw tonight."

I shrugged. "Ah, you know how it is, single equates to nothing better to do. How's it going, Chuck? Who else is working tonight?"

"Tomas Escamilla is the lucky schmuck keeping watch with me," the man answered, chuckling with the good humor he usually displayed. It was something that I'd always appreciated when working with the man. "He's on the top floors working down. We pretty much know the routine inside out by now, so if you'd like to take the middle floors, I'll start on this one and work up."

"Sounds like a plan," I replied. In truth, we pretty much followed the same search pattern every time I'd had to come on one of these routine bomb searches. "I'd like to get home as soon as possible," I added, and then an odd thought occurred to me. It seemed like every time I'd come in at night, Chuck was always there. "You got someone waiting at home for you, Chuck?"

"Oh no," answered the older man whom I guessed was old enough to be close to retirement. "My wife passed away three years ago and my son lives in the states. I volunteer for the holidays 'cause I've got nothing better to do."

I felt a moment's guilt because I'd earlier bemoaned that fact that I'd been pulled away from my friends and lover. At least I knew I had a warm bed and welcoming body waiting for me when I finished with the search. Chuck, it seemed, had no one. Maybe I needed to be pulled away from my good life once in a while in order to appreciate what I had and not take it for granted. Looking at the slightly stooped widower, I felt both fortunate and sad at the same time. Those feelings prompted me to speak up.

"Got any plans for Christmas dinner tomorrow?" I asked.

The old man shrugged, and without any trace of self-pity he answered, "I'm going to bake a Cornish game hen and some sweet potatoes, then watch some T.V."

"Tell you what," I said as the two of us began to walk towards the security desk where I'd get a walkie talkie and a flashlight, items that were necessary to the search. "Why don't I give you my address and you can come over to my place tomorrow. My roommate and I are making a dinner for our friends, nothing too fancy mind you, but we'll have plenty of food. You'd be more than welcome."

A spark of surprise and anticipation lit in the older man's eyes. Belying his feelings he replied, "You young people don't want an old man hanging around on the holiday."

"You're only as old as you act, Chuck," I told him with a grin. "We're a pretty interesting group and you'd probably have more stories to tell your co-workers than you could possibly imagine. Come on, the more the merrier," I urged the man. "Besides, what have you got to lose?"

A large grin grew on the smooth-shaved and slightly wrinkled face. "I'll come. Thank you."

The expression of happiness that Chuck gave me had me taking a mental note to speak with Heero about making it a tradition of inviting someone who was all alone on the holidays to join our celebrations.

Accepting the flashlight and communicating device, strapping the belt it fastened to around my waist, I listened as the older man in the dark blue security uniform brought his own walkie talkie up to his face and depressed the button. "Agent Maxwell's joined us, Tomas. What floor are you on?"

A slight click and a bit of static was heard before a deep and smooth Spanish-accented voice replied. "I'm on fourteen."

Lifting my communicator, with a teasing wink to Chuck, I depressed the button. "Hey, Tomas, my man, it's time to wake up from your siesta and get to work."

"Begging your pardon, sir," the Spaniard replied with good humor. "But you were called in nearly an hour ago. I suspect you were having your own siesta. I'll probably cover the top five floor before you finish your first."

I grinned at Chuck as I replied into the walkie talkie. "We'll see about that, Tomas. Just make sure your search is thorough or Une will demote the three of us to janitor duty."

"Roger that," Tomas laughed. "See you on eight."

"Fat chance. I'll see you on eleven."

Clipping the device onto my belt, resting it on my right hip, I looked to the older man beside me. "I'll start on the sixth floor and work up from there," I told him. "Let me know if you find anything."

Chuck nodded. "I've already finished this floor. I'll head up to floor two," he said, then turned and walked down the hall to begin his own search by taking the stairs and leaving me to make my way to the elevator.

FLASH

It was nearly midnight when I met Tomas on the tenth floor. I've always been amused by the Spaniard. His deep rich voice lent to one's mind the picture of a young, suave and virile man. In reality, Tomas was a short, middle-aged man with a slightly acne-scarred face and a pot-belly. I suppose I shouldn't find the contrast between a Don Juan voice and the real-life man so amusing as most people who meet me are usually stunned by my physical appearance, expecting someone much different to match up with my reputation as a gundam pilot and now as an adept Preventer agent. My youthful, heart-shaped face, easy grin, slim build and rope of long hair are usually the opposite of what people imagine I should look like after they learn of my history in the wars and that I came from L-2. I can't help what people think, but it is kind of funny to see their reactions when we come face to face and their expectations take a major dive.

The search for any evidence of bomb went smoothly and I was grateful to have not found anything out of the ordinary. My nose wrinkled up, however, at the leftover party food from the day before that had been dumped into the trash cans that wouldn't be picked up for another two days by the janitorial service. If it smelled this bad now, I could only imagine what it would smell like then. I met Tomas on the tenth floor and joked around for a few minutes. With our search complete, we separated, each taking separate stairwell down to the main floor. Tomas elected to take the stairs located on northeast side of the building and I took the southwest staircase. Checking my watch as I entered the stairwell on the fourth floor, I noted that it was a minute or so from midnight. The only thing on my mind at that moment was that I hoped Heero was still up by the time I got home.

I'd just left the third floor landing when the sound of explosions going off resounded above and below me and violently shook the entire building, including the metal stairs I was standing on, knocking me to my feet. I looked to the floors above me just in time to see debris, large and small, falling down the stairwell towards me just as the lights blinked out. I dove towards the nearest landing below, keeping as close to the outside wall as I could as the all the shit from above and half the building came crashing down around me. And just after my day flashed before my eyes, I was struck by something heavy and knew no more.

Oooooooooo

I awoke in terrible pain and was disoriented, coughing dry dust from my mouth and lungs. A flash of memory came to me of the explosions going off and I noted the sounds of more debris trickling down from above. Not hearing any sirens or the sounds of voices calling out, I guessed I hadn't been out for more than a few minutes. My eyes were filled with grit, so I kept them closed and tried to move my hands up in order to wipe them clean. The pain in my left arm left me with no doubt that it was badly broken, and I realized, once I tried to move, that I was pinned down. Further assessment told me that I was lying at an angle with my face and chest resting on the cold metal landing that I'd aimed for seconds before being hit by the falling debris. I thought there might be some substantial weight resting on my lower back and legs, but I wasn't able to assess any damage there because of an absence of feeling below my waist - and that scared me more than anything. Cautiously testing my right hand pinned between the wall and my right side, I was relieved when I was able to move it. The top of it scraped painfully against the rough-textured wall of the building as I struggled to squeeze it through the tight space between the wall's surface, my side and then up to my face. I was relieved when I was finally able to rub my eyes to try and get the dust and grit out of them. I was surprised to find my fingers, cheeks and eyes were wet. I told myself it was because my tear ducts had been triggered by the grit in my eyes to begin a natural cleansing process... attempting to convince myself that the wetness wasn't because I'd been crying. "Boys don't cry," I mumbled to myself, tasting dust and dirt in my mouth that I immediately tried spitting out.

Feeling a bit apprehensive, I cautiously blinked my eyes open, only to be met with complete darkness. Oh God, I'm blind, I thought, panicking. Using my right hand I examined my head, well, as well as I could under the circumstances. The fingers of my right hand searched the area around my eyes and face before combing them through my thick hair to do the same type of search on my scalp. Although I found some superficial gashes, sticky with warm blood, I only found evidence of a lump where I'd been hit and momentarily knocked unconscious. I didn't think that it was severe enough that it would have affected my eyesight. "It's just the absence of light," I told himself, remembering the power had gone out after the explosion. My breath caught in my chest at the relief I felt after having come to that conclusion.

Forcing myself to calm down, I closed my eyes again to let my tear ducts finish their cleansing job. Meanwhile, I used my right hand to explore the immediate area around my head and shoulders, letting my sense of touch do the seeing for me. Unfortunately, I wasn't pleased at all with what they were finding. Not three inches from my head was a large chunk of wall that extended above me. With my right side pinned to the wall and my left held in place by something rough and heavy, I could only envision that I was encased in the fallen debris, trapped as if I were in a cold cement coffin.

I'd never experienced many phobias before, and certainly not claustrophobia, but it was that very fear that suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks. I was injured and buried alive in the stairwell of the bomb-demolished building. I felt trapped, helpless, and found it hard to catch my breath as a feeling of panic hit me that was stronger than anything I'd experienced before. Lifting my head, I began shouting for all I was worth, "Help!" I yelled, but my lungs and voice seemed too inadequate to carry my urgent plea any further than my tomb. I tried several more times but to no avail; there was no noticeable reply.

Laying my head back down, I forced myself to calm down and slowly realized that the only sounds I could hear was my own ragged breathing and the rapid beat of my heart pumping way too fast. "Heero," I whispered my lover's name like a prayer and envisioned him in my mind, picturing him, the other half of my soul, waiting for me at home. My heart ached at the mental picture of him sitting in bed, anticipating my stepping through the door and knowing he might be waiting forever for me to come home. Again my eyes filled with moisture and this time I couldn't fool myself into thinking that it had anything to do with cleansing. "Oh, God. Not on Christmas."

I wasn't what people would call a religious man, but I retained a respect for the God that Father Maxwell and Sister Helen had spoken of with love and affection. When times had been at their worst, when all help and comfort were absent, I remembered them and prayed as they'd often shown me by their example. Now, I decided, was one of those desperate times when prayer might be my only hope.

Squeezing my moist eyes tightly shut, I tried to calm myself further and to think of the words that might appeal to deity. Taking in a deep, painful breath, the words of my heart came to my lips. "God of all, hear me pray," I began, saying the words I'd been taught as a child in an orphanage so long ago, my voice barely a hoarse whisper. "Help me, please," I begged earnestly. "I know I probably don't deserve your help, but I'm asking, please don't let me die like this, alone and on Christmas Eve. I'm not asking this just for myself, but for someone who means more to me than anything else in my life. Is it a sin to ask for a miracle? How about a Christmas miracle? Ya see, if I die tonight, Christmas will always be a painful reminder to him as well as to our friends that I was taken from them and in such a senseless way. You know about us, right? What we've all been through? We're all still trying to heal from the wars, so I'm asking you to please, don't let them have to lose someone else just as they're finding some happiness. Please," I pleaded fervently with all my heart, "I've tried to be a good man. Doesn't that count for something?"

In the distance, I heard the sound of sirens approaching just as a trickle of water began to fall over the debris above me. I guessed it was water from the sprinkler systems from the floors above, which meant there was a fire somewhere. Concentrating again, I resumed my talk with The Almighty. "I hear the cavalry coming. Thanks for that. I just hope you'll let them find me in time." I stopped short as my body began shaking, but whether it was from shock or the cold I wasn't sure as either one was a viable reason. The water trickling down from above me was quickly saturating my jacket, the new scarf around my neck and clothing underneath. The freezing temperature outside had also found its way into the damaged building and didn't help my situation at all. I listlessly wondered if things could get worse.

"Sister Helen always said never try to bargain with God," I continued with my prayer. "She said you didn't work that way. Well, I'm not sure I have anything to bargain with anyway. She also said to put my trust in you, and that's really hard, ya know? I've pretty much depended on myself and my comrades. Trust is something I've learned is earned. Maybe if I survive this it'll be a starting point. I'm not afraid for me, death has always been like my shadow, but I think I've always been afraid of dying alone. If Heero can't be here, please, help not to be alone."

The sirens seemed much closer now and I guessed they were close to the outside the building. If only I could get word of my position to the rescue workers, they might be able to save me before I froze to death.

Then I remembered my walkie talkie. I forced my free hand past the debris surrounding me and pushed it down towards my waist. The angle was awkward but I managed to find the familiar communicating box that was firmly compressed between my right hip and the mass of debris holding me in place. The belt that held the communicating device was just below my reach, so I had to wiggle around and contort myself a bit in order to dislodge the small box. Despite the cold surrounding me, I was sweating from pain and exertion by the time I finally pulled the device free. With a little more work, I managed to get it up to my face. As my hands moved over the surface of the walkie talkie, I felt my hopes plunge at its condition. It was severely crushed. Despite that fact, I continued to search for and found the button on the side of it and depressed it with the hope that it might work.

"Can anyone hear me?" I asked. My voice was raspy and carried the very real sound of desperation into the receiving end of the sorry little box. "Chuck? Tomas? Are you guys alright?" I had to pause then in order to cough and gasped at the burning in my lungs.

Lifting my thumb off the button, I listened carefully for any clue that someone, anyone, had picked up my message. But there was nothing. Not even a crackle of static. I shook the box in my hand, hoping to make it work by doing so. "God, please, I could use a little divine intervention at this point."

I lay my head back down, too weary and now too cold to do much more than see who would win the race to claim me, death or the rescue team that was bound to find me sooner or later. My body was violently trembling, so I put my face in the crook of my arm and desperately fought from giving into my fears. "Heero," I whispered again in a choked voice. "I'm sorry." I could only imagine what my lover might feel when he finally opened up his Christmas gift to find the titanium ring I'd purchased with the intention of asking him to make our relationship legal, to officially become my life partner. The inscription I'd had set inside the band simply stated, "I'll love you forever." Whether I lived or died this night, my words would still be true.

The ache I felt in my heart had nothing to do my current physical distress, but rather the idea of leaving Heero alone. My lover isn't open to many people, just our other three friends, our former comrades. But after two wars, some time to heal and earning his trust, he'd opened up and admitted his own deep feelings for me moments after I'd drummed up the courage to tell him that I'd loved him since the moment we'd met. We'd tried to follow everyone's advice and had every intention of taking our relationship slowly, to make sure it was going to work before we became physically intimate. But our hearts and bodies had a different course plotted out, and we'd never regretted the night of our second date when we'd ended up in Heero's bed together. Out first attempt at sex was a bit awkward and not exactly perfect, as most first times prove to be, but it had meant the world to the both of us. I gave up my apartment the next day and moved in with my new and only lover.

Warm tears warmed my cheeks at that memory before the frigid air began to freeze them to my face. Determined that if I was going to die tonight, I'd go with a smile on my face, I replayed in my mind mine and Heero's first night together. And just as I began to lose the fight to stay conscious, the radio in my hand crackled to life.

TBC before Christmas