Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Warnings: Ano... Spoilers I guess, Slight Angst, Sap, Fluff

Notes: I know this is sort of seasonal, but it wanted to be written. To some, it may seem OOC, since they see Ran's parents, more specifically, his father, as a cold man, but the anime seems to reveal a better side to them. This is one of my rare sap fics, so enjoy it while it lasts.

Soundtrack: Once Upon A December - Disney, Uragiri - Weiss, Memory of Fanelia - Escaflowne

Sweet December

"I'll be back soon, Ran-nii!!" Aya's high voice piped, carrying easily through the mostly empty apartment. Hearing the door close behind her, Ran sighed, going back to unpacking the boxes of items that he had taken from the wreckage of their house, and reminders of his life in Weiss. A singed photo of their parents, both of whom were smiling, his otousan's arm wrapped around his kaasan's shoulders, her head resting on his chest. A wistful smile twisted the red head's lips as feathery ash fell from the edge of the picture. The paper was brittle from the heat of fire, and eventually the picture would be gone, crumbled away like the ashes of his house. The picture was carefully set aside as he drew a long, narrow package from the box next, already recognizing it despite it's covering. His katana. The double edged sword that had revenged his family's death, his sister's injury, then continued on to drink the blood of dark beasts, even when he no longer had the need to kill. Newspaper was unwrapped, revealing the polished wood surface of the sheathe and hilt, then the light hit the blade as he stood, drawing it. The worn grip molded to his hand perfectly, the sword an extension of himself as he moved through a few basic kata steps, aware of the delicate and not so delicate objects around him. Memories of his team mates-- former team mates, he forcefully reminded himself-- flitted through his mind. Ken, mock saluting him before entering a darkened compound, instantly transforming from carefree to concentrated killer. Omi, his genki and caring attitude clear even in desperate or dark situations. Yohji, relaxed playboy, smoke balanced between his lips even as he tightened the harrigane around a target's throat, face solemn only when the time called for it. But those were darker memories, the ones that he sought to forget and leave behind. He was a killer no longer.

Kritiker had released him, on the grounds that he had too many connections to his past now, ones that were better off left unsevered. They meant his sister, though in no way had she ever been mentioned, or her existence even noticed. The organization was annoyed to be losing one of their best operatives, but everyone he knew, or had heard from agreed. There would be hell to pay if Aya suffered because they didn't wish to release her brother.

There were few items in this box, and it was the last to be unpacked. He reached in, already knowing what the last item that remained was, and drew out a large, plain album. Pictures, a farewell from Weiss, decorated it's pages, a reminder that he had people to turn to, should he need them. It was tempting, to turn back, to return to the arms of Weiss, to his team mates; no, friends. But to do that, he would have to take up the guise of Abyssinian again, stain his hands with blood. He was tainted enough as it was, how could he return to that now that he had been offered a way out? With a sigh, he stood, setting the album aside, but bending to pick up a photo that fell to the ground before moving to look out the window at the darkening December sky, softened by cotton-like clouds, and drifting snow. December was a month of death, the end of a year, but it was also a month of return, and birth. He knew, and he couldn't deny it, that he would never fit into the cast that society would portray him in now. He was too jaded, too used to destruction and death.

Glancing down at the image in his hand, he drew a breath sharply. This one was one he hadn't seen before, not a happy reminder of his life with the other men. The image was blood stained, though not literally. All four of them were battered and bleeding, supporting one another as they stumbled through the rubble of a burning building that they must have been caught in when it exploded. But the look in their eyes was far from pain and exhaustion. It was humor, and triumph, at having defeated nature and death to emerge alive once more, and together. This picture changed everything, it showed him what Weiss had been, not a team, not just friends. Family. Aya would understand.

Setting the photo down on the window sill, he gathered his mission jacket from where it lay draped across the back of the couch, shrugging it on, face pained as the scent of blood surrounded him, but his eyes opened, resolute. He wouldn't allow himself to destroy Weiss. The katana was slipped into loops on the inside of his jacket, hidden from the sight of innocents. Brow creased, he scribbled a quick note to Aya, three words, and his name before moving to the same door she had exited earlier. Turning back to look around the apartment once more, he heard the echo of memories, saw the phantoms of his parents, Aya, and himself, younger, as they decorated a room near mirror image to the one he was leaving for the holiday season, Aya laughing delightedly as their father set a small ring of gold tinsel on her head, proclaiming her an angel lost on earth, only to meet his wife's loving gaze as Aya flung her arms around his neck and he scooped her up. His own phantom watched from atop a ladder where he perched, decorating a small tree that was part of their tradition, an evergreen specially imported for the season, and remarking that his imouchan was hardly and angel, more like a little lost devil, and receiving a grimace from the girl in reply.

He dispelled the images from his mind with a quick shake of his head, striding out the door. He would no longer live in memories. He had too much to live for. His family as Weiss, his family as Aya, his own wishes, dreams and goals.

No, December was not a month of death, nor was it exactly one of rebirth. It was a month, merely quiet, sweet December.

~~~

Well, there's my monthly sap contribution. Bah humbug. :P