Disclaimer: I don't own them. And Square wouldn't even lend them to me
for the holidays. sulk Maybe that's a good thing, though, because
Jane's been sending me death threats for what I do to her around the
holidays in my stories.
Author's Note: I know it's only Thanksgiving, but Christmas is right around the corner, as every store and radio station seems to be taking great delight in reminding us. This is my first attempt at something humorous. Jane's a little out of character near the end, I think, but I thought it was sweet! And yes, that really is what Hein's gun is called.
CHRISTMAS SPIRIT
It really wasn't fair, Neil thought peevishly as the snow-capped mountains receded behind the Copperhead. Once again, he was stuck in the cockpit alone while the rest of the Deep Eyes squad dozed in the ship's rear. And he knew they were asleep; he could hear three sets of rhythmic breathing through his earpiece.
Yay. Snoring in stereo. Neil toyed with the idea of sounding a Phantom alert so he'd at least have some company. But the thought of an angry Captain Edwards putting him on Kitchen Patrol over the holidays was enough to stop him. The soldiers tended to get rowdy with the seasons, and Neil didn't like the thought of scrubbing up their messes with a toothbrush. They'd probably make him use his own toothbrush, too, he thought grimly. Then the supplies officer, who happened to be the type who held a grudge, would refuse to give him another one and he'd have to go without brushing his teeth. And that meant no kissing under the mistletoe.
Not that he'd ever succeeded in that pursuit anyway. No one ever wanted to kiss scrawny little Neil Fleming. Hey, what he lacked in muscle he more than made up for in brains. But did anyone ever see that? No!
The Copperhead shuddered during his moment of distraction, and Neil quickly corrected the controls. The ship jerked sideways before straightening out, and the small metal box under his chair slid forward and clanged against his boots. Behind him, one of the Deep Eyes snored even louder, and Neil gritted his teeth and began to hum a Christmas carol to drown it out.
He absently kicked the box out of sight again. He didn't want that little object discovered any time soon, especially not by his teammates. He had big plans for the contents.
Dang, he was bored. The ground around him was the same barren landscape found almost everywhere on the planet. There weren't even many, if any, Phantoms around. Apparently, they took time off for the holidays. Not like certain military squads who had earned their superior officer's ire.
They hadn't even done anything! Major Elliot was just too touchy. So the Deep Eyes had been forced to dump some cargo during the rescue of a downed freighter and its contents. Big deal. That was no reason to send the Deep Eyes on a useless mission to an empty military base that didn't even have Phantoms on Christmas Eve.
Neil's hums turned into words and he burst out singing "It's the most wonderful time of the year!" as he considered the box under his seat. It was a refrigerating unit he'd found at the abandoned base, which he'd secretly snatched and filled with that rarest of commodities: snow.
Neil grinned as he realized he could be the first person I years to initiate a snowball fight, and his singing rose to a fevered pitch with excitement. Maybe he couldn't spend the holidays with his family, but he would have fun.
"Neil?" Jane's voice crackled over the speaker. "I really hope you're making that racket because you're being killed by a Phantom."
"I'm just singing, Jane!" Neil called back, delighted to finally have someone to talk to.
"Maybe you'd better shut up before I kill you, then," Jane advised.
Neil pouted, though there was no one around to see it. "Jane-" he began, then stopped as she began snoring over his earpiece. And he'd had such a good comeback for her, too!
Neil began to wonder how he could use his frosty new weapon on his so- called friends.
* * *
Jane had been saving the bottle for months. The bottle of wine had been a birthday gift from her older brother, and it was an excellent vintage - pre- Phantom infestation, and probably worth a small fortune. She intended to savor it for a Christmas spent blissfully alone. She wasn't the type to spend the holidays with family or friends; the solitude was all she wanted.
So she took her bottle and crept away from the women's barracks to a secluded spot on the roof, where sprawled out on the edge, the open bottle and a glass by her side. She had just closed her eyes and taken a deep, relaxing breath when a wet splattering noise caught her attention. Her eyes jerked open just in time to see her bottle teeter and fall off the edge of the building. She almost lunged after it before realizing falling three stories might hurt her military career. So instead she gave a frustrated cry and whirled, just in time to see a figure disappear down the fire exit.
She knew right away who it was; she'd recognize that scrawny butt anywhere. "Neil! I'm gonna kill you!" she cried furiously.
She thought about chasing him, but decided against it. Revenge was a dish best served cold, after all. She sat back down with a huff, wistfully eying her empty glass and the melting. snowball? Jane's eyes narrowed. Yes, revenge would be cold indeed.
* * *
He'd almost broken his neck climbing down the fire escape, but it had been worth it. Though he'd missed Jane, he had at least made her yell. But he'd had to run as fast as he could away from the women's barracks before he was caught. Neil didn't think it would look good on his record to have been found twice on that roof for no apparent reason.
He'd had his reasons! No one listened to them, was all.
He ducked down an alley and examined the contents of the little freezer he'd dragged along. It was almost empty, he thought mournfully. He'd placed some snow in the captain's shoes, thrown two snowballs at a pair of irritating officers who had blamed each other, and tried to lob one at Ryan, who had ducked in time. Then he'd made Neil an offer he couldn't refuse.
And Neil realized he had just enough snow left for that one last task. He couldn't contain the evil chuckle that slipped past his lips.
* * *
"What are you doing?" Jane said to Neil's back. Neil jumped, clutching his hand to his chest. His eyes widened when he saw her.
"Oh! Jane!" he said in a loud whisper. "Look, um, sorry about the snowball and all-" he said quickly.
"It's all right, Neil," she said, matching his whisper. "It's not like you got me." She gave him a grin she hoped wasn't too savage. "What are you up to?"
"Up to?" Neil was all innocence.
"Don't give me that. I know you too well."
"Really?" Neil's face lit up.
"Yes. And it scares me," she said. "Don't avoid the subject, Neil."
Neil sighed and showed her the box at his feet. "I've got one more snowball left," he said. "And it's gonna be good."
"Who's the target?" she asked suspiciously.
"Just wait," Neil whispered.
"Neil." she warned.
"Just wait. He's coming now, I think."
Jane had a bad feeling about this, but she had to admit that she was curious. They were in a corridor that linked to the one leading to the military command room; only the top brass used it frequently.
"There," Neil's voice was barely audible as footsteps echoed down the hallway and Major Elliot walked by.
"No." Jane began. Neil motioned her to be silent and crept to the end of their hallway. He scooped the last of the snow out and balled it up in his hand.
Voices came down the hallway. Apparently, Major Elliot had stopped to talk to someone. Neil grinned at Jane, then peeked his head around the corner, aimed, and threw. Jane, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, peeked around the corner too. She saw the snowball leave his hand, arc towards the target, and hit.
She yanked her head back just as the first outraged cry echoed towards them, and saw Neil had already sprinted a ways down the hall. He'd probably started to run as soon as he'd thrown it. Jane raced towards him, catching up easily.
"What did you think?" Neil crowed.
"I think you'd better run like hell," Jane said, grabbing his shirt and pulling him behind her.
* * *
Neil met up with Ryan in the overcrowded mess hall, Jane walking behind him with the oddest look on her face. Ryan had saved seats for the entire team and was already digging into the questionable Christmas dinner.
"Oh, goodie. They're celebrating the holidays by giving us bigger portions of the same junk they usually serve. Are they trying to poison us?" Neil wondered.
"Did you do it?" Ryan asked.
"Did I do it? Do you doubt me, Serge?" Neil said, pretending to be hurt. "You shoulda seen it. I came. I threw. I hit. Major Elliot made the most marvelously undignified noise, didn't he, Jane?"
Jane just smiled at him crookedly, an odd gleam in her eye. At that moment, Gray joined them at their table.
"Glad you could make it, Captain," Neil said impishly. "I was worried you might have cold feet."
Gray glowered. "That was you, Fleming?" he growled.
"Just spreading a little Christmas cheer," Neil grinned. "Speakin' of which, Serge, I believe you owe me for a package I delivered." Neil held out his hand expectantly.
"You two weren't making bets again, were you?" Gray asked, exasperated.
"Just a small one," Neil said defensively.
"He threw a snowball at Major Elliot," Ryan supplied, counting out ten dollars for Neil. "You know, sort of a repayment for sending us out for no reason."
Gray groaned, and Jane suddenly began to chuckle.
"You shoulda heard him yell," Neil continued as Jane's chuckles became uncontrollable.
"I'm sure I'll hear all about it," Gray said unhappily.
"What's your problem?" Neil said suddenly, as Jane continued to laugh.
"You!" she gasped. "You missed Elliot!"
"I.missed?" Neil wailed, and Ryan snatched his money back from Neil's hand. "But my aim was perfect! It should have been on target!"
"It was a direct hit," Jane laughed. "But you ran off before you could see Major Elliot shift his position. You hit the person standing next to him!" She was now laughing so hard she had to bury her face in her hands to keep the tears from her eyes.
Neil felt the blood drain from his face. "You're. joking, right?" he pleaded.
"Who was with Elliot?" Ryan asked.
"You got him right in the back of the neck," Jane said.
"Got who?" Gray demanded.
If Neil hadn't been sitting, his weak knees would have given out from under him. He muttered the name under his breath, hoping Gray wouldn't hear him correctly.
No such luck. "Let me get this straight. You.threw a snowball. at General Hein."
Ryan's eyes went huge. "Here, man," he said, returning the money to Neil. "You're gonna need this."
"I didn't mean it!" Neil squeaked.
"You threw a snowball at the highest-ranking military officer in New York?" Gray went on.
"It was a small one!"
Gray buried his face in his hands.
"He didn't see me!" Neil said. "He'll never know!"
"Yes he will, because you're going straight to his office to apologize."
"Sir!" the cries of protest came from all three of them as they stared in shock at their captain.
"You can't do that," Ryan said.
"It's a death sentence, sir!" Jane added.
"It's Christmas Eve! Have mercy!" Neil wailed.
"It's hard to be merciful when you're sloshing around in wet shoes," Gray said pointedly. "Go apologize now before the general finds out on his own and punishes you."
Neil shakily got to his feet, ignoring the respectful salute Ryan tossed him and the death dirge Jane was humming. Neil slunk away from the noisy mess hall, wondering if he'd be lucky enough to get off lightly and do Kitchen Patrol.
* * *
It was dark. Really dark. Really, really dark. And empty, too. The wing where the general had his office was nearly deserted, except for one or two smaller offices where the secretarial staff worked. Neil wanted to turn and leave, but he'd been told that Hein was still in his office.
Neil wasn't so sure. General Hein's door was directly ahead, and no light or sound leaked from the room. Swallowing nervously, Neil raised his hand and knocked on the door. There was no answer for a few moments, and Neil was about to turn and leave when a low voice snarled, "Go away."
"General Hein, sir?" Neil squeaked, wishing he could obey the general's command. "I - I have to talk to you. Sir," he added hastily.
Another moment of silence, then, "About what?"
"The, uh, snowball, sir," Neil managed to lower his voice to a more reasonable tone, but it still quavered.
Great. It wouldn't be long at this rate before General Hein had Neil down on his knees sobbing for forgiveness. He could just imagine the guys laughing at him for such a thing. Neil tried to strengthen his resolve.
"Come in," the voice said. Neil slowly opened the door, shocked to find the office was almost completely black within. Even the windows had been tightly shuttered, allowing no trace of light to filter through.
Neil left the door open to allow a little light in and walked cautiously towards Hein's desk, where he could faintly see a sheen of light reflecting off Hein's black leather coat.
Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind him and a hand grabbed his shoulder. Neil shrieked and whirled to face his nearly invisible attacker.
"I hope you don't react this way around Phantoms," General Hein's cool voice came from the vicinity of his ear.
"Sir!" Neil gasped. "You startled me!"
"Hmm," Hein grumbled, releasing Neil. Soft footfalls headed away, and suddenly the light on Hein's desk snapped on.
Neil blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the sudden light, then turned to Hein, who was studiously ignoring him. "Sir," Neil said, snapping a hasty, and belated, salute, "I just wanted to apologize for hitting you with a snowball. You weren't my intended target, sir."
Hein grunted again and sat in his desk chair, which was already occupied by his coat. He seemed to be ignoring Neil, focusing instead on a dark bottle and a glass resting beneath the light.
Neil took in the general's distracted features and the glazed look in his hard blue eyes - and the fact that Neil himself was still alive - and suddenly realized Hein was drunk! Neil wasn't sure if this was bad or good. Please be good.
"So, if I wasn't your intended target, who was?" Hein asked idly as he filled the glass with the liquid from the bottle. Whatever it was, it had a strong smell he thought, wrinkling his nose. Neil didn't know alcohols very well, so he couldn't identify it. But how could someone drink something that smelled like that? And why?
"I." How could he admit this? "I was trying to hit Major Elliot, sir."
"Yes. We'd all like to hit Major Elliot sometimes," Hein said distantly.
Neil almost grinned. This would be good after all! The general was too far gone to care! "If that's it, sir, I would like to leave. It's Christmas Eve, and I have things to do, sir." Hein's nonchalance was making Neil bold. He couldn't believe how this was going!
"Sit, soldier," Hein said suddenly. Neil's heart sank and he collapsed into the seat in front of Hein's desk. "What's your name?" Hein asked absently.
Here it goes. Kitchen Patrol, here I come. "I'm Corporal Neil Fleming with Deep Eyes. Under Captain Gray Edwards." He wondered if this would get the others in trouble. It would be kinda fun seeing Jane do dishes and scrub floors.
"Neil?" Hein asked, now finally trying to focus his eyes on Neil's face. "You mean you're a man?"
Okay. This was something he hadn't expected. "Yes, sir," Neil said, trying vainly to deepen his voice. He wondered how long Hein had thought he was female, then decided he really didn't want to know. He didn't want to think about why Hein had cared, either.
"How'd something as scrawny and pathetic as you ever get into the army?" Hein mused.
"Look, sir, if you don't need me any more." Neil hinted.
"Would you like a drink?" General Hein held up the now-empty bottle, then stared at it in puzzlement. "I could've sworn it was full," he muttered to himself, then shrugged and tossed it on the floor to join two identical bottles.
Neil was starting to feel really uneasy. Just how far gone was the general, anyway? And did he do this often? Neil shuddered to think about what it would be like to serve under an alcoholic. He grimaced as Hein pulled another bottle out of a desk drawer.
"Maybe I should leave?" Neil suggested hopefully.
"How do you celebrate Christmas?" Hein asked suddenly.
Neil blinked. "Oh, uh, I sometimes go home to my family - they live in New York - but this year I was going to attend a party with the other soldiers."
"Oh," Hein said absently. "I forget." Neil tried to figure that one out for a moment. Had he forgotten what he was going to say? Or. A thought struck him suddenly. Did Hein spend his Christmases drinking to forget? That was a sad thought.
"I polished up my sonnet, too," Hein rambled on.
This was getting surreal. "You write poetry, sir?" Neil asked incredulously.
Hein gave him a disgusted look and pulled his handgun, pointing the muzzle straight at Neil, who squeaked. He scrambled to get out of the chair, expecting at any moment to be shot by the drunken general.
Then Hein set the gun on his desk and Neil got a better look at it. Oh. Hein's handgun was called a sonnet. That explained things, but it wasn't comforting. Should a drunk even have a gun? Neil grabbed the gun and pulled it out of Hein's immediate reach. Hein watched with a bemused expression.
"Maybe you should get going," Hein suggested. "You seem a little tense."
"Do I, sir?" Neil yelped as he jumped to his feet, ready to race out of the room.
General Hein cocked his head, then stood up, grabbing his now-full glass as he did so. "One moment, Fleming," he said coolly.
Neil froze; Hein's voice had suddenly sounded chillingly sober. "Sir?"
"There's still the matter of the snowball." Hein stepped towards him, taking a sip out of the glass in his hand before stopping to leer down at Neil. "I can't just let you get away with it, you know."
Oh, God, here it comes! Neil braced himself for whatever duty his drunken general was about to assign him. What if he wants me to clean the sanitary facilities? While naked? Using only my tongue? Neil squirmed.
The general's hand shot out, over Neil's head. Suddenly a cold, thick, sticky liquid flowed down over Neil's face, and he stared at the general incredulously. He'd just dumped the contents of his glass over Neil's head!
"I'm sorry it's not frozen," Hein smirked, "but it's the best I could do on short notice. Now get out of here!"
Neil scrambled towards the door, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process.
"Oh, and Fleming?" the general's voice drifted towards him as the desk light abruptly shut off. "Merry Christmas." Neil just ran as quickly as he could down the corridor.
* * *
"So you survived?" Jane asked. Neil was in the crowded mess hall again, the safest place he could think of going. He hadn't heard Jane come up behind him until she'd spoken. He jumped, still wary of revenge. She came closer and wrinkled her nose. "And you smell! What happened?"
"We talked, and then the general and I shared a drink," Neil mumbled. He hadn't bothered to wash the sticky fluid off. His hair must be a mess.
"Well, I'm glad you made it out safely," Jane said, tugging Neil out of the shadows towards the center of the room. He didn't notice how Jane kept her right hand tightly fisted and close to her side.
"Are you in trouble?" Jane asked.
"Nope. I guess Hein's being reasonable for the holidays." Neil wasn't sure he wanted to talk about the general's questionable state of mind.
"There's a first time for everything," Jane mused. There was an odd look on her face as she scanned the room. Neil wondered who she was looking for.
"Look up," Jane said suddenly. Neil obeyed, and stared at the mistletoe directly overhead. He grinned at Jane.
"You know what that means," Neil said wickedly. "Don't resist, it's tradition-" He was stopped when Jane abruptly pressed her lips to his.
Neil almost spoiled it by gasping. No way! This had to be a dream! But Jane's hands were wrapping around his neck, toying with his shirt collar-
-and dropping a chunk of ice down the back of his shirt. Neil shrieked and jumped away, dancing around to try to dislodge the ice that was sliding down his spine and into his pants. Jane grinned as she licked the taste of alcohol off her lips and turned away. "Merry Christmas, Neil!" she called back.
"Wow," a young private commented as she passed by. "You must be some kisser."
Jane chuckled. "Actually, I'm the Ice Queen. But the holidays always bring out my softer side," she said, heading towards her room.
Author's Note: I know it's only Thanksgiving, but Christmas is right around the corner, as every store and radio station seems to be taking great delight in reminding us. This is my first attempt at something humorous. Jane's a little out of character near the end, I think, but I thought it was sweet! And yes, that really is what Hein's gun is called.
CHRISTMAS SPIRIT
It really wasn't fair, Neil thought peevishly as the snow-capped mountains receded behind the Copperhead. Once again, he was stuck in the cockpit alone while the rest of the Deep Eyes squad dozed in the ship's rear. And he knew they were asleep; he could hear three sets of rhythmic breathing through his earpiece.
Yay. Snoring in stereo. Neil toyed with the idea of sounding a Phantom alert so he'd at least have some company. But the thought of an angry Captain Edwards putting him on Kitchen Patrol over the holidays was enough to stop him. The soldiers tended to get rowdy with the seasons, and Neil didn't like the thought of scrubbing up their messes with a toothbrush. They'd probably make him use his own toothbrush, too, he thought grimly. Then the supplies officer, who happened to be the type who held a grudge, would refuse to give him another one and he'd have to go without brushing his teeth. And that meant no kissing under the mistletoe.
Not that he'd ever succeeded in that pursuit anyway. No one ever wanted to kiss scrawny little Neil Fleming. Hey, what he lacked in muscle he more than made up for in brains. But did anyone ever see that? No!
The Copperhead shuddered during his moment of distraction, and Neil quickly corrected the controls. The ship jerked sideways before straightening out, and the small metal box under his chair slid forward and clanged against his boots. Behind him, one of the Deep Eyes snored even louder, and Neil gritted his teeth and began to hum a Christmas carol to drown it out.
He absently kicked the box out of sight again. He didn't want that little object discovered any time soon, especially not by his teammates. He had big plans for the contents.
Dang, he was bored. The ground around him was the same barren landscape found almost everywhere on the planet. There weren't even many, if any, Phantoms around. Apparently, they took time off for the holidays. Not like certain military squads who had earned their superior officer's ire.
They hadn't even done anything! Major Elliot was just too touchy. So the Deep Eyes had been forced to dump some cargo during the rescue of a downed freighter and its contents. Big deal. That was no reason to send the Deep Eyes on a useless mission to an empty military base that didn't even have Phantoms on Christmas Eve.
Neil's hums turned into words and he burst out singing "It's the most wonderful time of the year!" as he considered the box under his seat. It was a refrigerating unit he'd found at the abandoned base, which he'd secretly snatched and filled with that rarest of commodities: snow.
Neil grinned as he realized he could be the first person I years to initiate a snowball fight, and his singing rose to a fevered pitch with excitement. Maybe he couldn't spend the holidays with his family, but he would have fun.
"Neil?" Jane's voice crackled over the speaker. "I really hope you're making that racket because you're being killed by a Phantom."
"I'm just singing, Jane!" Neil called back, delighted to finally have someone to talk to.
"Maybe you'd better shut up before I kill you, then," Jane advised.
Neil pouted, though there was no one around to see it. "Jane-" he began, then stopped as she began snoring over his earpiece. And he'd had such a good comeback for her, too!
Neil began to wonder how he could use his frosty new weapon on his so- called friends.
* * *
Jane had been saving the bottle for months. The bottle of wine had been a birthday gift from her older brother, and it was an excellent vintage - pre- Phantom infestation, and probably worth a small fortune. She intended to savor it for a Christmas spent blissfully alone. She wasn't the type to spend the holidays with family or friends; the solitude was all she wanted.
So she took her bottle and crept away from the women's barracks to a secluded spot on the roof, where sprawled out on the edge, the open bottle and a glass by her side. She had just closed her eyes and taken a deep, relaxing breath when a wet splattering noise caught her attention. Her eyes jerked open just in time to see her bottle teeter and fall off the edge of the building. She almost lunged after it before realizing falling three stories might hurt her military career. So instead she gave a frustrated cry and whirled, just in time to see a figure disappear down the fire exit.
She knew right away who it was; she'd recognize that scrawny butt anywhere. "Neil! I'm gonna kill you!" she cried furiously.
She thought about chasing him, but decided against it. Revenge was a dish best served cold, after all. She sat back down with a huff, wistfully eying her empty glass and the melting. snowball? Jane's eyes narrowed. Yes, revenge would be cold indeed.
* * *
He'd almost broken his neck climbing down the fire escape, but it had been worth it. Though he'd missed Jane, he had at least made her yell. But he'd had to run as fast as he could away from the women's barracks before he was caught. Neil didn't think it would look good on his record to have been found twice on that roof for no apparent reason.
He'd had his reasons! No one listened to them, was all.
He ducked down an alley and examined the contents of the little freezer he'd dragged along. It was almost empty, he thought mournfully. He'd placed some snow in the captain's shoes, thrown two snowballs at a pair of irritating officers who had blamed each other, and tried to lob one at Ryan, who had ducked in time. Then he'd made Neil an offer he couldn't refuse.
And Neil realized he had just enough snow left for that one last task. He couldn't contain the evil chuckle that slipped past his lips.
* * *
"What are you doing?" Jane said to Neil's back. Neil jumped, clutching his hand to his chest. His eyes widened when he saw her.
"Oh! Jane!" he said in a loud whisper. "Look, um, sorry about the snowball and all-" he said quickly.
"It's all right, Neil," she said, matching his whisper. "It's not like you got me." She gave him a grin she hoped wasn't too savage. "What are you up to?"
"Up to?" Neil was all innocence.
"Don't give me that. I know you too well."
"Really?" Neil's face lit up.
"Yes. And it scares me," she said. "Don't avoid the subject, Neil."
Neil sighed and showed her the box at his feet. "I've got one more snowball left," he said. "And it's gonna be good."
"Who's the target?" she asked suspiciously.
"Just wait," Neil whispered.
"Neil." she warned.
"Just wait. He's coming now, I think."
Jane had a bad feeling about this, but she had to admit that she was curious. They were in a corridor that linked to the one leading to the military command room; only the top brass used it frequently.
"There," Neil's voice was barely audible as footsteps echoed down the hallway and Major Elliot walked by.
"No." Jane began. Neil motioned her to be silent and crept to the end of their hallway. He scooped the last of the snow out and balled it up in his hand.
Voices came down the hallway. Apparently, Major Elliot had stopped to talk to someone. Neil grinned at Jane, then peeked his head around the corner, aimed, and threw. Jane, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, peeked around the corner too. She saw the snowball leave his hand, arc towards the target, and hit.
She yanked her head back just as the first outraged cry echoed towards them, and saw Neil had already sprinted a ways down the hall. He'd probably started to run as soon as he'd thrown it. Jane raced towards him, catching up easily.
"What did you think?" Neil crowed.
"I think you'd better run like hell," Jane said, grabbing his shirt and pulling him behind her.
* * *
Neil met up with Ryan in the overcrowded mess hall, Jane walking behind him with the oddest look on her face. Ryan had saved seats for the entire team and was already digging into the questionable Christmas dinner.
"Oh, goodie. They're celebrating the holidays by giving us bigger portions of the same junk they usually serve. Are they trying to poison us?" Neil wondered.
"Did you do it?" Ryan asked.
"Did I do it? Do you doubt me, Serge?" Neil said, pretending to be hurt. "You shoulda seen it. I came. I threw. I hit. Major Elliot made the most marvelously undignified noise, didn't he, Jane?"
Jane just smiled at him crookedly, an odd gleam in her eye. At that moment, Gray joined them at their table.
"Glad you could make it, Captain," Neil said impishly. "I was worried you might have cold feet."
Gray glowered. "That was you, Fleming?" he growled.
"Just spreading a little Christmas cheer," Neil grinned. "Speakin' of which, Serge, I believe you owe me for a package I delivered." Neil held out his hand expectantly.
"You two weren't making bets again, were you?" Gray asked, exasperated.
"Just a small one," Neil said defensively.
"He threw a snowball at Major Elliot," Ryan supplied, counting out ten dollars for Neil. "You know, sort of a repayment for sending us out for no reason."
Gray groaned, and Jane suddenly began to chuckle.
"You shoulda heard him yell," Neil continued as Jane's chuckles became uncontrollable.
"I'm sure I'll hear all about it," Gray said unhappily.
"What's your problem?" Neil said suddenly, as Jane continued to laugh.
"You!" she gasped. "You missed Elliot!"
"I.missed?" Neil wailed, and Ryan snatched his money back from Neil's hand. "But my aim was perfect! It should have been on target!"
"It was a direct hit," Jane laughed. "But you ran off before you could see Major Elliot shift his position. You hit the person standing next to him!" She was now laughing so hard she had to bury her face in her hands to keep the tears from her eyes.
Neil felt the blood drain from his face. "You're. joking, right?" he pleaded.
"Who was with Elliot?" Ryan asked.
"You got him right in the back of the neck," Jane said.
"Got who?" Gray demanded.
If Neil hadn't been sitting, his weak knees would have given out from under him. He muttered the name under his breath, hoping Gray wouldn't hear him correctly.
No such luck. "Let me get this straight. You.threw a snowball. at General Hein."
Ryan's eyes went huge. "Here, man," he said, returning the money to Neil. "You're gonna need this."
"I didn't mean it!" Neil squeaked.
"You threw a snowball at the highest-ranking military officer in New York?" Gray went on.
"It was a small one!"
Gray buried his face in his hands.
"He didn't see me!" Neil said. "He'll never know!"
"Yes he will, because you're going straight to his office to apologize."
"Sir!" the cries of protest came from all three of them as they stared in shock at their captain.
"You can't do that," Ryan said.
"It's a death sentence, sir!" Jane added.
"It's Christmas Eve! Have mercy!" Neil wailed.
"It's hard to be merciful when you're sloshing around in wet shoes," Gray said pointedly. "Go apologize now before the general finds out on his own and punishes you."
Neil shakily got to his feet, ignoring the respectful salute Ryan tossed him and the death dirge Jane was humming. Neil slunk away from the noisy mess hall, wondering if he'd be lucky enough to get off lightly and do Kitchen Patrol.
* * *
It was dark. Really dark. Really, really dark. And empty, too. The wing where the general had his office was nearly deserted, except for one or two smaller offices where the secretarial staff worked. Neil wanted to turn and leave, but he'd been told that Hein was still in his office.
Neil wasn't so sure. General Hein's door was directly ahead, and no light or sound leaked from the room. Swallowing nervously, Neil raised his hand and knocked on the door. There was no answer for a few moments, and Neil was about to turn and leave when a low voice snarled, "Go away."
"General Hein, sir?" Neil squeaked, wishing he could obey the general's command. "I - I have to talk to you. Sir," he added hastily.
Another moment of silence, then, "About what?"
"The, uh, snowball, sir," Neil managed to lower his voice to a more reasonable tone, but it still quavered.
Great. It wouldn't be long at this rate before General Hein had Neil down on his knees sobbing for forgiveness. He could just imagine the guys laughing at him for such a thing. Neil tried to strengthen his resolve.
"Come in," the voice said. Neil slowly opened the door, shocked to find the office was almost completely black within. Even the windows had been tightly shuttered, allowing no trace of light to filter through.
Neil left the door open to allow a little light in and walked cautiously towards Hein's desk, where he could faintly see a sheen of light reflecting off Hein's black leather coat.
Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind him and a hand grabbed his shoulder. Neil shrieked and whirled to face his nearly invisible attacker.
"I hope you don't react this way around Phantoms," General Hein's cool voice came from the vicinity of his ear.
"Sir!" Neil gasped. "You startled me!"
"Hmm," Hein grumbled, releasing Neil. Soft footfalls headed away, and suddenly the light on Hein's desk snapped on.
Neil blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the sudden light, then turned to Hein, who was studiously ignoring him. "Sir," Neil said, snapping a hasty, and belated, salute, "I just wanted to apologize for hitting you with a snowball. You weren't my intended target, sir."
Hein grunted again and sat in his desk chair, which was already occupied by his coat. He seemed to be ignoring Neil, focusing instead on a dark bottle and a glass resting beneath the light.
Neil took in the general's distracted features and the glazed look in his hard blue eyes - and the fact that Neil himself was still alive - and suddenly realized Hein was drunk! Neil wasn't sure if this was bad or good. Please be good.
"So, if I wasn't your intended target, who was?" Hein asked idly as he filled the glass with the liquid from the bottle. Whatever it was, it had a strong smell he thought, wrinkling his nose. Neil didn't know alcohols very well, so he couldn't identify it. But how could someone drink something that smelled like that? And why?
"I." How could he admit this? "I was trying to hit Major Elliot, sir."
"Yes. We'd all like to hit Major Elliot sometimes," Hein said distantly.
Neil almost grinned. This would be good after all! The general was too far gone to care! "If that's it, sir, I would like to leave. It's Christmas Eve, and I have things to do, sir." Hein's nonchalance was making Neil bold. He couldn't believe how this was going!
"Sit, soldier," Hein said suddenly. Neil's heart sank and he collapsed into the seat in front of Hein's desk. "What's your name?" Hein asked absently.
Here it goes. Kitchen Patrol, here I come. "I'm Corporal Neil Fleming with Deep Eyes. Under Captain Gray Edwards." He wondered if this would get the others in trouble. It would be kinda fun seeing Jane do dishes and scrub floors.
"Neil?" Hein asked, now finally trying to focus his eyes on Neil's face. "You mean you're a man?"
Okay. This was something he hadn't expected. "Yes, sir," Neil said, trying vainly to deepen his voice. He wondered how long Hein had thought he was female, then decided he really didn't want to know. He didn't want to think about why Hein had cared, either.
"How'd something as scrawny and pathetic as you ever get into the army?" Hein mused.
"Look, sir, if you don't need me any more." Neil hinted.
"Would you like a drink?" General Hein held up the now-empty bottle, then stared at it in puzzlement. "I could've sworn it was full," he muttered to himself, then shrugged and tossed it on the floor to join two identical bottles.
Neil was starting to feel really uneasy. Just how far gone was the general, anyway? And did he do this often? Neil shuddered to think about what it would be like to serve under an alcoholic. He grimaced as Hein pulled another bottle out of a desk drawer.
"Maybe I should leave?" Neil suggested hopefully.
"How do you celebrate Christmas?" Hein asked suddenly.
Neil blinked. "Oh, uh, I sometimes go home to my family - they live in New York - but this year I was going to attend a party with the other soldiers."
"Oh," Hein said absently. "I forget." Neil tried to figure that one out for a moment. Had he forgotten what he was going to say? Or. A thought struck him suddenly. Did Hein spend his Christmases drinking to forget? That was a sad thought.
"I polished up my sonnet, too," Hein rambled on.
This was getting surreal. "You write poetry, sir?" Neil asked incredulously.
Hein gave him a disgusted look and pulled his handgun, pointing the muzzle straight at Neil, who squeaked. He scrambled to get out of the chair, expecting at any moment to be shot by the drunken general.
Then Hein set the gun on his desk and Neil got a better look at it. Oh. Hein's handgun was called a sonnet. That explained things, but it wasn't comforting. Should a drunk even have a gun? Neil grabbed the gun and pulled it out of Hein's immediate reach. Hein watched with a bemused expression.
"Maybe you should get going," Hein suggested. "You seem a little tense."
"Do I, sir?" Neil yelped as he jumped to his feet, ready to race out of the room.
General Hein cocked his head, then stood up, grabbing his now-full glass as he did so. "One moment, Fleming," he said coolly.
Neil froze; Hein's voice had suddenly sounded chillingly sober. "Sir?"
"There's still the matter of the snowball." Hein stepped towards him, taking a sip out of the glass in his hand before stopping to leer down at Neil. "I can't just let you get away with it, you know."
Oh, God, here it comes! Neil braced himself for whatever duty his drunken general was about to assign him. What if he wants me to clean the sanitary facilities? While naked? Using only my tongue? Neil squirmed.
The general's hand shot out, over Neil's head. Suddenly a cold, thick, sticky liquid flowed down over Neil's face, and he stared at the general incredulously. He'd just dumped the contents of his glass over Neil's head!
"I'm sorry it's not frozen," Hein smirked, "but it's the best I could do on short notice. Now get out of here!"
Neil scrambled towards the door, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process.
"Oh, and Fleming?" the general's voice drifted towards him as the desk light abruptly shut off. "Merry Christmas." Neil just ran as quickly as he could down the corridor.
* * *
"So you survived?" Jane asked. Neil was in the crowded mess hall again, the safest place he could think of going. He hadn't heard Jane come up behind him until she'd spoken. He jumped, still wary of revenge. She came closer and wrinkled her nose. "And you smell! What happened?"
"We talked, and then the general and I shared a drink," Neil mumbled. He hadn't bothered to wash the sticky fluid off. His hair must be a mess.
"Well, I'm glad you made it out safely," Jane said, tugging Neil out of the shadows towards the center of the room. He didn't notice how Jane kept her right hand tightly fisted and close to her side.
"Are you in trouble?" Jane asked.
"Nope. I guess Hein's being reasonable for the holidays." Neil wasn't sure he wanted to talk about the general's questionable state of mind.
"There's a first time for everything," Jane mused. There was an odd look on her face as she scanned the room. Neil wondered who she was looking for.
"Look up," Jane said suddenly. Neil obeyed, and stared at the mistletoe directly overhead. He grinned at Jane.
"You know what that means," Neil said wickedly. "Don't resist, it's tradition-" He was stopped when Jane abruptly pressed her lips to his.
Neil almost spoiled it by gasping. No way! This had to be a dream! But Jane's hands were wrapping around his neck, toying with his shirt collar-
-and dropping a chunk of ice down the back of his shirt. Neil shrieked and jumped away, dancing around to try to dislodge the ice that was sliding down his spine and into his pants. Jane grinned as she licked the taste of alcohol off her lips and turned away. "Merry Christmas, Neil!" she called back.
"Wow," a young private commented as she passed by. "You must be some kisser."
Jane chuckled. "Actually, I'm the Ice Queen. But the holidays always bring out my softer side," she said, heading towards her room.