A/N: Hey everyone! Yeah, out of the hospital, and thanks for all the PMs with well-wishes; they helped a lot. Now, hopefully, I can get both this tale and "Vampire" finally finished!

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Trembling, Kris stood in the kitchen, watching as Joe sliced open the wrapping paper. She would not run.

A woman must be brave. A woman must act with honor.

Maybe that was the Navajo way, but they'd never put up with Angie Thompson's crowd…and then Kris bowed her head, arms crossed tight. She could imagine the potential lecture if she said anything like that out loud; Mar had told stories about being forced to go to a white boarding school to become "assimilated", and what she'd been subjected to there.

Both Mar and Charlie were watching her, and Kris felt her face get hot. Hopefully they hadn't picked up that thought; Charlie was supposed to be Gifted just like Mar was. Charlie's weathered face was kind, but even though he was close enough, he didn't try to touch her, like most adults would've. Definite points in his favor.

Hearing Frank identify the little gift box, though…and when he said that, Kris recognized it, too: one of the boxes that Peterson's used for the homemade taffy sold in the café. And Peterson's Café was right next to Bell Book and Candle…

"That's really weird," Joe said. "It can't be connected to what's going on there, can it?"

"I doubt it," Fenton said. "You're jumping to a conclusion, and a very circumstantial one, at that."

Kris swallowed. "I saw a lot of our class out shopping in the square. Even Angie." Memory made her scowl. "People kept calling me an elf."

"Exactly. Er…not about you being an elf, Kris." Fenton's mouth twitched. "You could call every store there 'near' Bell Book and Candle. Don't get hung up on a coincidence, Joe."

But Mar sat back, scowling, though she said nothing.

"Elf," Joe said to Kris, in that tone she'd learned meant he was teasing. "Maybe we should get Phil to make you a pair of Spock ears…" He grinned at her Implacable-Indian-Warrior-Imitation glare.

"Box," Frank said, pointing, and Joe raised his arms in surrender.

"Probably time to get her a new coat, Mama," Charlie said, then grinned at Kris himself. "Wonderful. I've got an elf for a kid sister. I'll need pics, because no one in my squadron'll believe it. An Injun with a Settler's elf."

Didn't anyone know anything about elves? "Elves are big and mean," Kris said to Charlie. "And they stink. They never take baths."

Mar laughed; Charlie raised an eyebrow.

"She's always saying stuff like that," Frank told him. "You'll get used to it. Though judging from Rudolph, they are big. I mean, they're the same size as the reindeer and those things are huge."

Charlie's eyebrow somehow got higher; he glanced at Mar. "I can imagine the fun you've been having with this one next door."

"I've gotten used to it," Mar said.

At that point, Joe got the box open with the knife, and silence fell on the kitchen.

"Okay," Fenton said. "This is no kid's prank."

"Agreed." Mar pushed to her feet. "Given yesterday — Gert, Fenton, pardon me for a bit. I'm going to call San Francisco."

"Of course, Mar," Gertrude said, as Mar left; Gertrude was blushing. "Fenton, should we notify the police?"

"I don't see a note." Joe prodded at the small bright-colored packages with the blade, moving them aside, then lifting the box to check between it and the wrapping paper. "I don't get it. What's the big deal?"

"Jeez, Joe…" Frank said, red-faced. Then he looked at Kris, his eyes widened, and he looked down at his feet.

Memory was a sledgehammer: pain, fear, the stench of cheap beer and Old Spice. Shaking, Kris only stood there. She would not run. She would not.

"The school principal, definitely," Fenton said to Gertrude. "Go ahead and call Chief Collig. I'll talk to Captain Maguire in New York tomorrow morning."

"Leave those alone, Joseph. Don't you dare open one." Gertrude's open embarrassment had turned to righteous outrage. "Whatever pervert did this — they'd better not show their face here! I'll beat them six ways to Sunday with a broom!"

"Evidence, Gert," Fenton said firmly, before Gertrude could sweep the box into the garbage can.

Joe looked at Kris, then at his father. "Trojan…that's Greek, right? That war with the wooden horse? What's so bad about that?"

That got a round of coughs from the adults; Kris couldn't look at either Frank or Joe. Charlie stood up, put his hand on Kris's shoulder. "Okay, little sister, let's go home for a few. I wouldn't mind saying hi to a few folks in San Francisco myself."

"I'll handle the gift," Fenton said, now as red-faced as Gertrude was. "Under lock and key, until the cops get a chance to see it. No, Joe, we'll let the police handle fingerprints this time."

"I'll let Mama know. We'll be back in a bit." Charlie grinned at Gertrude. "I'm starving for that pot roast, just so you know."

Charlie steered Kris out the door. It was only five o'clock, right before dinner, but it was dark already, snow falling thick and fast.

"Under other circumstances," Charlie said, "I'd've loved to sit there, acting totally ignorant, while Fenton tried to explain those things to Joe."

Unexpectedly, a giggle bubbled up. Despite…that…Kris could see it.

"Good, you can laugh. I was starting to wonder." Charlie patted her shoulder. But then his face darkened. "The horrible fact that you're not asking, though — I've heard your story from Mama, little sister. And I tell you now, from the heart, any stinking ape who would do that is no man. He is less than the lowest beast. And if he dares show face around here, he'll find out exactly what it means to run up against a 'Nam soldier." Then Charlie considered a moment. "I'd inflict some old-fashioned Injun Torture on the cockroach, but I've got a feeling that would draw an audience of one Joe Hardy, and torture just doesn't have the same effect when you're constantly answering questions from an Injun-crazy white kid."

"Ask Shimá about the garden last year," Kris said, looking at her feet. "She got him to plant three rows of corn as a traditional rite of spring before Joe caught on."

Charlie laughed. He had a great laugh, deep and from the belly. "Yeah. I could see that." He held the front door open for her; Mar leaned into the hallway, waved them back to the kitchen with her, then pointed to the table when Kris came back.

A package sat there, postmarked with an APO — Joshua! Kris half-listened to Mar talking on the phone (Charlie taking it from her at intervals to chatter and laugh at whoever was on the other end) and opened the box; at least this would be safe, fun, and wonderful. The box was stuffed with crumpled newspaper with funny Asian lettering, and nestled deep in the paper, an elegant wooden carving of a seated woman surrounded by bamboo and odd-looking flowers.

"Wow," Charlie said, his attention caught. "That's from your Army friend?"

Kris nodded, found Joshua's letter. "Mẫu Địa Phủ," Joshua's letter called the carving, the Vietnamese Mother Earth. Kris sat down at the table, engrossed in the letter and the pictures he'd sent of Saigon; something to share with Frank and Joe. Joshua's letters were always full of adventure and all the wild things he encountered.

Charlie touched the carving. "That's what I hate about this war. Whether it's right or not, I don't know. But we're destroying the lives and culture of a truly spiritual people." Then, quieter, "Again."

Kris looked up. "That's what Josh says. He loves what he does, but he hates the reason he's doing it."

"Yeah. That's exactly it. When you're out there, you can't think of stuff like that." Charlie looked away. "There's no honor or glory in napalming a poor village just because they might be spying for the other side…but if you don't, and there is, it may cost the lives of you and all your buddies down the road. It's kill or be killed out there."

Kris looked back down at the letter, at the carving. She'd heard folks arguing at Bay Area Center over the war with reasons just like that, though with a lot more hate and yelling. She was proud of her hero big-brothers, both Joshua and now Charlie…but seeing the news on the TV of children screaming and running after a bombing run had given her nightmares on top of the ones she'd already had.

Then something clicked, and Kris stared at Charlie. Bombing runs…bombs dropped from airplanes…oh no. Oh no.

"I know," Charlie said, head bowed. "Believe me, I know."

"But…" Kris choked, swallowed. "They were kids. Like…like me. Like Joe and Frank!" The last nightmare had been vivid, horrifying: kids she knew, screaming, running, as the fire fell from the sky.

Charlie said nothing, wiping at his face.

"Okay," Mar said at that point, hanging up. "Squirrel, do you remember Drake and Harold?"

Trembling, Kris nodded. She'd stayed wary of both in the few months she'd been at Bay Area; they were tough-looking men, Drake former Israeli security, Harold an ex-Marine.

"Downs is still there, huh?" Charlie said, shaking his head.

"Respect, my son," Mar said. "You didn't see him take on our little squirrel's former father. The whoring jackal ran so fast, he caught the grass on fire."

"Hmph," Charlie said. "Downs let him get away."

"San Francisco is settler's country. They frown on murder."

"Vermin eradication is perfectly legal," Charlie countered.

Mar's mouth quirked. "Anyway, they'll both be running those…people…down. Between them and Fenton's contacts, it may take a few days, though." But now Mar frowned. "Given this, though, until we can confirm, I'm hesitant over allowing you to spend the night at Bell Book and Candle, shiché'é."

Oh no — that meant Frank and Joe's dad would sink their doing the same, too, since Joe had gotten the first gift. "Shimá, no! There's a phone there, and Frank said they'd have the police checking up on us, and they'd be calling home every half-hour, and…and…Frank and Joe and Sharon'll all be there…"

Mar sighed.

"Bell Book and Candle?" Charlie said.

"Our bookstore," Kris said, not looking at him. "It's this old house that Mrs. Bell turned into a bookstore and her dead husband haunts the place but stuff's been disappearing, so I asked if Frank and Joe could investigate and she said yes. It's my Christmas gift to them, because they love mysteries because their dad's a detective — Shimá, Papa wouldn't…um…that man, I mean…him…he wouldn't be there. He hated places like that because they sold heathen unbeliever stuff."

Charlie waited out the flood of words. "One of those. Gotcha." Then he looked thoughtful. "Y'know, Mama, she's right. You shouldn't let that cockroach ruin such a true gift of the heart." His mouth quirked, and he looked so like Mar with that expression that Kris stared. "How about if I spend it with them? I'm sure my new kid brothers won't mind."

"That's the understatement of the century," Mar said.

Kris blinked. Understatement was right, especially if Charlie was calling them his "kid brothers". But now she wasn't sure she'd want to, not if Charlie had…not if he'd… "Um, Shinaái…me and Sharon — you haven't met her yet — we were going to do a ghost hunt while Frank and Joe looked for the thief. Because of Mrs. Bell's husband being there."

Now Charlie laughed. "Even better. I've done a few of those. My friends in school were into all the paranormal spooky stuff and they were all over anything remotely haunted-looking. I didn't have the heart to tell them that most of their spooks were rats and stray dogs."

"You and Frank will get along like a house on fire," Mar said. "Okay. Bring that up to Fenton, and I'll call Mrs. Bell tomorrow and explain the situation. Shiché'é, understand, she may say no, anyway."

"Couch it as 'adult supervision'," Charlie said. "That always worked when I was pulling things over on you and Dad."

"You only thought you were pulling things over on us," Mar said, smiling sadly.

Charlie grinned back. "You only thought you were catching me out."

Kris caught the sly glance Charlie gave her; great, he'd joined Frank and Joe's conspiracy to get her to smile. She picked up Joshua's letter and the carving, walked with Mar and Charlie back over to the Hardys. Between Charlie, the ghost, Tina's brown man, and the supposed thief, her big brothers' bookstore mystery was turning into the absolute-est best gift that she could ever have given them.

Now if only whoever was doing the other stuff would get caught quick…