Disclaimers: don't own any of the characters from Relic Hunter or make any money from my fiction writing. I don't own any of the Xmas songs referenced either!!!

For my friend, Tanya Reed: Syd, Nigel, friendship, shippiness, Christmas emotion, cats and a touch of death…I hope you enjoy! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

Chapter One

'Remind me again, Syd,' sighed Nigel. 'Why exactly is it we have to go and find the sacred scrolls of some Second Century Indian monk right now, on Christmas Eve?'

Sydney laughed as she accelerated their car along the main road out of the city, her eyes dancing between the busy traffic and her despondent-looking assistant, who was resting his head forward in his hand. 'This isn't about it being Christmas Eve, is it?' she teased. 'This is about it being 4pm and you being worried we won't be back in time for dinner! Are you hungry already – or have you got a hot date?'

Nigel shot her a mildly indignant glare: 'No, I haven't, and you know it! All nice girls have somewhere to be on Christmas Eve, and for none of them is it with me…' He trailed off, his fingers trailing lugubriously through his hair, and then flushed slightly. Sydney was now observing him with a modicum of concern.

'I am hungry though,' he added, steering the conversation back to safer ground. 'I wish we could have at least got takeaway or something before we left town.'

'Relax, Nigel,' grinned Sydney. 'If Penelope has done her research right– and she is a top student – this should just be a case of finding the right place, maybe negotiating one or two rivals and, uh, simple traps, and we'll be back in time to be toasting chestnuts in front of an open fire way before midnight! And, if you're interested, it's 'open house' at my place tonight, as well as tomorrow. I've enough food and wine to have us both stretched-out on our backs and clutching our stomachs until next June! Care to join me?'

Nigel scrunched his nose. 'Nah, its okay. To be honest, I'm not even sure about tomorrow. After all, you'll have your Dad, Jenny, Karen and her brother, and I've got a lot of studying to catch up with and…'

'Hey! You said you'd come! Besides, as I told you before, I'm not taking no as an answer!' Sydney glanced in the rear-looking mirror, and then indicated for the verge, pulling over with a crunch on the breaks. 'What is this all about Nigel? You, uh, well…don't quite seem yourself.'

'Oh, I'm sorry!' Nigel pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'I really don't know what's come over me! Its just that…well…well Christmas seems to have been more to do with bad than good for me that past few years! At least, before I got to the States, it mainly consisted of lonely bed-sits or throwing crockery at Preston and…well, that just makes the memories of the good ones all the more painful and distant. I guess I was expecting to have an evening alone just to…well…'

'…mope by yourself in the moonlight?' Sydney finished the sentence lightly, but she reached over and squeezed his knee affectionately. 'Hey, come on, Nige. Seeing as you've no place to be, hadn't you might as well be on a hunt with me?'

Nigel forced a lop-sided smile. Being on a hunt after a fascinating relic with Syd was as good as life got, he told himself - despite the dangers, temptations and infinite frustrations!

'You know, as ever, you're completely right! I'm…I'm sorry. Sometimes, I don't even know what I'm on about!'

'I do. It's okay to hurt.' Sydney cast him a sympathetic glance, started the engine again and pulled out into the traffic. 'Hey, Christmas can be a difficult time, when you've lost someone close. I shed a tear for my Mum at this time every year. I really miss her.'

Nigel said nothing, merely giving a little cough. Sydney strained her eyes sideways, silently cursing that his face was cast in shadows.

After a moment, he asked: 'So, um, you never answered my question. Why the big rush to find this thing on Christmas eve?'

'Well, for a start, somebody was snooping around Penelope's research in her study earlier today – none of her research was taken, but a shadowy figure was seen running away – so we can't let a rival beat us to this! But, more to the point, the texts of Banasidol's scroll only become visible once a year, on the date of an ancient Janelian festival, which just happens to be today - so nothing to do with Christmas!'

'Hmmm,' Nigel sounded unconvinced. 'If it does only become visible once a year, how are we going explain a blank scroll when we get it?'

'Tricky, yeah - but we can read it tonight, and aren't you just a little curious to know what it says? Legend claims it holds the key to the connection between the soul and the body, and the passage of the soul between earth and Nirvana…'

'…which is no doubt why some American Mafia boss ordered it to be plundered it from its resting place in an Orissan temple in the 1930's,' jutted in Nigel sardonically. 'I'm supposing he wanted to ease his passage to a pretty afterlife!'

'I don't know what Alfred Hostler wanted with it,' admitted Sydney. 'But I doubt it did him much good. You need a bit of decent Karma to get into heaven…but, anyway, it should be a good find. And its time that Banasidol's followers were given their scroll back, so at least next year they can read it for themselves!'

Nigel took a deep breath and stroked back his fringe. It was an amazing relic, and an exciting sounding hunt – this was what he lived for. Why was he behaving like a fool?

'Look, Syd, I'm sorry. Really, honestly, there's nowhere else I'd rather be with on Christmas Eve – and, um, nobody I'd rather be with.'

Sydney beamed, her shiny, plum-coloured lips slightly parted. 'I really appreciate that Nigel. You know, I think we're going to have a great time!'

Nigel returned the smile, now slightly embarrassed and, for want of anything better to say, muttered, 'Um, I hope you don't mind,' and turned on the radio.

Inevitably, the local station was blasting out an execrable selection of silly Christmas songs.

'Ugh! It's that one about 'I wish it could be Christmas Everyday!' cringed Sydney. 'I hate that – I mean, don't get me wrong, I love Christmas, but once a year is quite enough! I still haven't quite digested last years Turkey curry!'

'Oh God, yes! It's the bit where the children's choir comes in that always has me reaching for the sick-bag,' gulped Nigel. 'But at least you don't have so much Cliff Richard over here. 'Christmas Time, Mistletoe and Wine…'' Nigel's little song trailed off into a truly heartfelt shudder. 'It sends a shiver down my spine every time!'

In a few seconds, however, the seventies rock faded out and the car stereo began wafting forth crackling strains of lush strings, and the unmistakable, tremulous tones of Judy Garland.

'Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Let your heart be light,
From now on, our troubles will be out of sight…'

'Ah, at last, a real classic,' observed Sydney, cranking up the volume a little to accommodate the quietness of the aging recording. 'This was from the movie, Meet Me In Saint Louis, made in 1944, at the height of the dark days of World War Two.' She paused, her expression misting with empathy as she reflected on the lyrics. 'These words must have meant so much then to families who were without their loved ones, and to the soldiers, away fighting in Europe…'

Sydney was about to say just how much she liked the song when Nigel suddenly spluttered: 'Oh, Jesus Christ!' and violently slammed off the radio.

'What the heck?'

'Stupid, saccharine, over-sentimental Americana! Oh, oh bloody hell, I'm sorry…I didn't mean to offend…'

'Uh, okay!' Sydney, momentarily incredulous, pulled the car over onto the verge, an easier feat than before as they had reached a much quieter, forested side-road. It was now quite dark. She switched on the light, only for Nigel to look away quickly, shading his eyes as if it were far too bright for him.

Sydney wasn't having any of it. Placing one hand on his shoulder, she gently pried away his hand. He inhaled sharply when she placed two light fingertips on his far cheek, and tilted his face towards her.

'It's a ridiculous, sappy song,' he groaned. 'I don't know why it set me off like this…but…but…my mother used to sing it, at the piano…and…'

'Oh Nigel,' whispered Sydney, catching his single tear on her thumb. 'It's okay to cry…it's good to cry, honestly.'

'Is it?' sighed Nigel, raising his glistening eyes towards the clouded heavens. 'It never seems to do me any good.'

Sydney leant over, her chin practically resting on his shoulder. 'That's because you don't let it. I've never even seen you cry before, despite everything we've been through.'

'There's been time when I've been close,' he confessed, with a maudlin half-smile. 'And I…I cried in the Russian Steppes, when I was all alone and I thought you were dead.'

He jumped again as two moist lips brush lightly against his cheek. 'Thank you,' whispered Sydney. 'I appreciate that.'

This time, Nigel couldn't resist a genuine laugh, if just to break the tension. 'Well, what did you expect? I was hardly going to do a rain-dance, was I?'

'No! I guess not.' Sydney laughed too. Yes, this was the Nigel she knew and loved - Christmas blues or no! She threw her arms around his shoulders for a quick hug, before she started the engine again, and shoved the car into gear.

'Come on, Nigel,' she grinned, 'let's forget Christmas for now and just go Relic Hunting.'

Thanks for reading, please review and FOR THE START OF THE ADVENTURE please go onto the next!