The Gift

Requested by Anon

wc: 2,146

Set during Frost Bite directly after this passage:

I spent the rest of the day doing little more than that. I skipped dinner. I shed a few tears. But mostly, I just sat on my bed thinking and growing more and more depressed. I also discovered that the only thing worse than imagining Dimitri and Tasha together was remembering when he and I had been together. He would never touch me again like that, never kiss me again…

This was the worst Christmas ever.

After a few hours, the anger set in, mixing in with the ache and pain I was feeling. It had been bad enough that Dimitri hadn't spoken to me all day, not even wishing me a 'Merry Christmas', but now, knowing what Tasha had proposed, thinking about how attentive he'd been to her hurt a hundred times worse. It made it feel like I was nothing at all…that I didn't matter in the slightest now that a Moroi woman wanted him and was willing to give him children—the one thing I never could. A deep, hot burning rage welled up inside me, and at that moment I hated Tasha Ozera more than anyone—even more than Victor. I wanted to strike out and hurt her, to confront her with the things that had happened between Dimitri and I, making her feel the same pain I was feeling—but I knew if I did it would hurt Dimitri too, and that's something I would never, ever do. Even if that wasn't a factor, my attacking her wouldn't change a damned thing. I couldn't make him love me, and if I hurt her it would just drive him further away from me, alienating him even more.

That was when the hopelessness set in, and a strange sort of numb felling took over me. It as almost like I was in a daze—everything seemed hazy and unreal, as if I'd been woken up too fast from a really deep sleep. I had to practically force myself to get up off the bed—even walking the brief distance across the room to grab a night shirt out of my dresser seemed like a monumental effort. I was completely drained emotionally, which is probably why what happened next hit me like a punch in the gut. There in the drawer, underneath the shirt was a small wrapped package that I'd tucked away for safekeeping. Between what we'd found at the Badica house and my own drama, I'd completely forgotten all about it. For a moment, standing there, staring down at it, with the things my mother had said about Tasha echoing through my head, I'll admit I was tempted to just scoop it up and throw it in the trash—because I sure as hell didn't feel like giving it to Dimitri anymore.

Hot, angry tears pricked my eyes as I pulled it out, removing it from its hiding place and cradling it to my chest. I returned to my bed where I flopped down on the mattress., staring up at the ceiling. I'd gone to so much trouble to do something special for him… for someone I thought cared about me just a little. I'd never bought a Christmas present with my own money before, I'd always borrowed from Lissa to get the things I needed. Yeah, I could have just done the same thing again and hit Liss up for a loan, but that would have led to questions that I couldn't answer since in all the time she's known me I'd never bought a Christmas present for any of my instructors—not even for Alberta who had practically raised me. Even more important than that was the fact I'd wanted to buy Dimitri something with my own money, not with someone else's—and I'd known exactly what I wanted to get him—a new book to replace the one I'd seen him reading over and over again. When I teased him about reading even slower than I did, he smiled and corrected me, saying he was re-reading it because it was one of his favorites before catching himself and instructing me to finish my warm up. I'd been almost done when he'd muttered a quiet curse in Russian, drawing my eyes over to the corner where he sat reading. Biting my lip to keep from laughing at the distraught look on his face, I watched, amused as he bent down to collect a few pages that had worked their way free of the binding and scattered across the floor.

"You know Comrade—when the pages start falling out of the book, it might be time to replace it."

I was surprised to see the faintest hint of a blush on his tanned cheeks as he sat up and replaced the pages in the book; as far as I was concerned my statement hadn't contained anything that should embarrass him. Averting his eyes to the book, he didn't answer right away—he just sat there, running his fingers across the tattered cover with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"It's a very special book Rose, and a very old one, so replacing it would be expensive… and I don't have the money to spare."

I opened my mouth to complain about how little guardians were paid, but a thought flickered across my mind, making the words die on my lips. I stared across the gym at him, slightly amazed by my revelation. He wouldn't spend the money on himself to replace a book he obviously loved—but he'd gone out of his way to buy the lip gloss I'd bitched about just to make me happy. It was right then and there I decided I'd find a way to replace his book—even if I had to sell a kidney to do it.

Lucky for me, I didn't have to resort to anything quite so dramatic. I may be poorbut I did have something that a lot of the girls around campus would kill for—the kind of clothes their parents refused to let them buy. Clothes that were tight, with low plunging necklines, that were sexy and stylish—and I knew that unlike Mia, the majority of them wouldn't care that I'd bought them second hand when I was on the run with Lissa. All it took was mentioning to Camille that I had a few things I wanted to get rid of and the next thing I knew my dorm room was flooded with Moroi girls pawing through the stuff I'd set out, discussing how they could alter them to fit their much taller, slimmer figures. Within a half hour every single item was goneand I had a wad of cash that I'd earned all on my own. As soon as I'd herded them out the door I practically ran to the library, shoving the scrap of paper I'd scrawled the title and author on across the circulation desk and begging the librarian to find out how much the book would cost. That's when my brilliant plan hit a little snag.

The book was out of print.

Not only that, but we couldn't even find a copy of it for sale on the internet despite almost an hour of searching. For a moment I was stumped, but as I leaned on the counter, staring off into space it hit me—librarians don't just check out books and stock the shelves; they have to know how to maintain the books too. Giving the Moroi woman the most pleading expression I could muster up, I asked her how much it would cost to fix a book that was falling apart at the seams. Twenty minutes later my eyes were glazed over—she'd been very detailed in her explanation, walking me through the steps and explaining what it entailed—but I had my answer—and she'd agreed to repair the book, only charging me for the materials. I had just enough cash to cover it—all I had to do was get my hands on the book without him catching on. Which was easier said than done.

After two days of trying—and failing to distract him long enough to get him away from the chair where he always deposited his duster when we were training, I finally faked an injury and swiped it when he went for the first aid kit. I hid it down in the depths of my gym bag beneath a hoodie and a sports bra—if he decided to look for it I figured the bra would stop him in his tracks, embarrassing him enough to get him to abort the search. After that I just had to bite my lip and try and ignore the guilt that ate at me when he frantically searched the gym for it after our session had ended.

It wasn't until I picked up the finished product and flipped through the pages to check the reinforced binding that I realized why he'd been so upset to find it missing. The answer was right there in front of me, inscribed on the title page in elegant flowing handwriting, and once I read it I was glad I'd had the book repaired instead of trying to replace it. The book in my hands was a gift from Ivan Zeklos, and reading what he had written made me realize exactly how priceless it was.

To Dimitri Belikov—the best friend a man could have.

I didn't pick this book because it was a best seller; in fact, it's not particularly entertaining at all—but it has a deeper meaning that I know you'll understand. It's about two brothers and how one spends his life protecting the other—just the way you do for me.

I love you brother,

Ivan

Sitting there on my bed, staring down at the package, I felt a rush of shame that I'd even considered tossing the gift. It was something irreplaceable, and even as hurt and upset as I was over Tasha, I did want Dimitri to have it. I wanted him to be able to hang on to that little piece of Ivan forever. Scrubbing my face in my hands in an attempt to erase the tear stains, I made my way down to the dorm matrons desk, explaining that I'd forgotten to give my mentor his present. She wasn't very helpful—to say the least—telling me to leave it with heror it could wait until morning. I was gearing up for an epic argument when a hand on my shoulder stopped me, and I looked over, surprised to find Alberta standing next to me, staring down at my crappy wrapping job with a strange little smile on her face.

"Newspaper Rose?"

"It's all I could find," I said defensively. "Not like I could run to Wal-Mart and grab a roll of gift wrap."

She reached over, taking the package from me, chuckling softly as she saw the way I'd sealed it. "Very inventive. You know… you could have asked me for tape."

I shrugged, ignoring the hot flush of embarrassment I felt at not having thought of that. "Band aids work just as well and I had them on hand. So can I go give it to him? Please?"

Alberta studied my face for a moment, reaching out to push a strand of hair out of my eyes the way she used to when I was little. "It's nothing horrible is it? Not laxative laced chocolates or anything like that?"

"I wouldn't do something like that—not to him. He's gone out on a limb to help me," I said impatiently. "It's just a book… his book. I had it fixed in the library."

"Straight there and back. No detours." She handed the package back, walking me over to the stairwell that led to the wing that housed the guardian dorms. "I'm timing you. No dawdling."

I ran, not wanting to take advantage of her generosity for a second more than I had to, but when I got there… I couldn't make myself knock on the door. I wasn't ready to face him yet—not with the things my mom had said still circling in my brain. I just leaned the package up against the door and sprinted back to where Alberta was waiting. And the funny thing was, as soon as I did it… I felt a little better. Don't get me wrong—I was still upset over the situation with Tasha, but somehow, knowing that whenever he read that book, he'd also have a little piece of me with him just like he had of Ivan made me feel a little less heartsick inside.

As I fell asleep that night I didn't think about the things my mother had told me or torture myself by imagining Tasha replacing me in Dimitri's arms. Instead, I imagined my mentor smiling when he saw my gift—a gift that I hoped would let him know exactly how much he meant to me, even if he no longer felt the same way about me. Staring up at the ceiling, my lips curled up in a sad smileand I whispered the words I could never ever tell him, no matter how much I longed to.

"Merry Christmas, Comrade. I love you."